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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Burden

Characters: Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,261

Warnings: None

Premise: Xiao fell in love with your goodness, with your selflessness and generosity towards others. Perhaps, however, in doing so he had misunderstood your own complexities.

In which the reader feels they are a burden.

Author’s Note: I feel like I should note that there are going to be some relatively extreme emotions, mostly negative. I don’t feel like it’s enough or specific enough to be given a warning, but if anyone wants to tell me to tag it for something I will gladly. That being said I’m pretty proud of this one

Xiao

Ever since your first interaction you had been helping Xiao. It had seemed so natural, even then, even when nothing seemed natural about interacting with a human, those strange people from who Xiao must always be separated. Yet there you were, asking if this perfect stranger was alright. And there Xiao was, suddenly seeing his world opening up before him.

Perhaps it was for this reason that your relationship had developed in the way it had. To Xiao your selflessness, your never ending kindness, the fact that you would stop to help someone regardless of circumstance, all of that was normal. It was innate in your personality, and perhaps that was why Xiao never questioned what effect having that kind of personality might have on you. It is easy to assume that a kind and selfless person is also one with a short memory. After all, how could they stand it otherwise?

So when the first, barely noticeable, traces of that burden which Xiao saw so often began to swirl around you the yaksha’s initial reaction was that of utter panic. Was this not the exact reason that Xiao had chosen to disconnect himself from humanity? Was this not proof, right before him, that the chains he carried could not be contained. Though Xiao generally thought of humans as vaguely useless, deserving of protection because Rex Lapis proclaimed it be so, the idea of harming any one of them with the legacy of his own sins, it was something that he could never stomach, no matter how many times he feigned apathy. That you should be the person upon who his burdens should be transferred, how could he bear it?

Of course a small, more logical, part of him urged the adeptus to stop and think. The miasma that Xiao attracted in such high concentration was everywhere, and humans were not exempt from this burden by themselves. After all, did humanity not channel great evil as well as good? Did not the most ordinary human, dejected by their lot in life, become swarmed by little wisps of evil? Yet those were other, ordinary humans. Ordinary humans couldn’t understand the sheer capability to love that you seemed to possess. No, if Xiao could sense such a miasma around you then it was surely his fault.

Still the idea of leaving you was something quite painful to Xiao, to the adeptus who had so recently learned what it meant to love someone wholeheartedly. He told himself that it was best to leave immediately, best to disappear with the wind and never look back. Yet a part of him couldn’t seem to bear the idea; and that was the part that won out as Xiao approached you later in the day, as if in a desperate last attempt to prove himself wrong.

“Are you alright?”

“Xiao!” You jumped slightly, having evidently been lost in thought. Smiling widely you shook your head. “Of course I’m alright! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I…” Xiao paused for a moment as the idea of telling you what was going on flitted through his head. Almost immediately the thought was squashed. After all, would the knowledge not worry you more? “I was just asking.”

“Well thank you Xiao, it’s very kind of you to think of me.”

“It’s my duty.”

“Still,” your smile never faltered. “You deserve thanks for what you do nonetheless.”

Xiao tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, tried to block out the emotions that crashed over him like great waves as you leaned in to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. Was this not a good thing? After all, if Xiao was what cause this miasma to float around you, then was that not your salvation? Xiao knew how easy it was to drown in the burdens that one must shoulder. He knew how easy it was for humans to sink to the bottom of their despair and never once more emerge for water. Why should it not be a blessing that you would never have to fight to keep your head up, to keep yourself from a life full of burdens? Why, why did it hurt so much?

During the night, Xiao would leave during the night. After all, you deserved one last evening of happiness, if the yaksha could even believe that he brought you happiness. Or maybe it was for his sake that he refused to leave before the world was plunged into darkness. Maybe it was simply that Xiao could no longer imagine a world without you, and that such nightmares came out easier at night. Lying on top of the roof, eyes closed, ears focused on the familiar tread of your feet, Xiao willed himself not to think. He could regret when he was far away from you, when you were once more safe. For now he could only follow that ritual which had so long kept him sane, kept him from joining his brethren. For now he thought only of the contract he had once made.

The sound of your feet on the ground below came all too soon, as the sun finally began its descent across the heavens in earnest. Keeping his eyes closed, as if to stall the darkness for a little longer, Xiao took a deep breath in. He needed to steel himself for this evening; if not, well, Xiao had no wish to cry for the first time in a millennia.

Only once these thoughts finished flitting around in his head did the yaksha finally recognize the change in your footfall. Usually you were very light on your feet, dashing this way and that, stopping to ask Goldet or Yanxiao some mundane question, inquiring after the old lady who had basically set up permanent residence on the bottom floor of the Inn. This time, however, you seemed to drag, as if you were indeed carrying something very heavy. Alarm flashing through him, Xiao willed himself into perfect stillness. He wished to hear more, wished to understand what had caused such a change in you.

What he certainly hadn’t expected was the labored breathing of someone seconds away from tears.

The moment Xiao heard the door to your room close the sobbing began in earnest. Though you certainly seemed to be trying your hardest to hide your tears the sound of your muffled sobs rang through Xiao like a siren, flaring up every bit of alarm he had to offer. Jumping off of the roof Xiao catapulted his way through the hallways of the Inn, not bothering to hide his presence to the few, very confused, residents that were out. Reaching your room he didn’t allow himself a moment’s hesitation before grabbing the knob and opening the door.

Your head snapped up, eyes a mixture of dark emotions as you stared at him. For a moment you seemed ready to flee, to run and hide somewhere, or perhaps to throw him out. However almost immediately you seemed to sink back into yourself, and though Xiao could still sense your distress, at least the initial shock of his arrival seemed to have passed as quickly as it would otherwise.

“Xiao! I, I didn’t expect you. I, could, could you leave? I don’t, I don’t want, I don’t want to be seen right now.” It was all you could get out before another round of sobs wracked through your body.

Trying to remember what you had done for so many people, for himself, Xiao grabbed the pitcher that sat at one of the tables in the room. Pouring some water into a glass he crept towards you as softly as possible, hoping that he could convey his worries in these odd, brusque actions. He knew that he didn’t have the talent you had to comfort people, knew that all his gestures of kindness inevitably came out cramped and awkward. Nevertheless he shoved the glass into your hands, staring just past you as you tentatively downed the water. Taking the glass from you Xiao then reached out one of his palms to you. His relief when you placed your own palm on top of his was indescribable.

“I guess you probably would like an explanation,” you rasped out.

Xiao said nothing, waiting for you to act on your own. If he knew anything the yaksha knew that attempting to force the truth out of anyone would never worked. Hadn’t his own years as a pariah taught him that.

“It’s just,” you finally continued, taking in deep, labored breaths. “It’s just so hard. It’s so hard Xiao, I can’t stand it anymore!”

“Stand it?”

“Stand the… the hurt!”

Your eyes filled with tears, and you went to grab the handkerchief that you left on your nightstand. You always needed one with you, as your eyes stung terribly whenever you began to cry. Xiao said nothing as you sobbed once more, only moving to draw small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

“It hurts so much, to see other people. To hear their problems. Not that it’s their fault, or that I don’t want to help them. I do, I really do. I look at all the people suffering near me and I just want to take all their burdens and give it to myself, after all they don’t deserve all their sufferings. But it’s so hard Xiao, it’s so hard to take on people’s burdens, even a little bit. And I feel so selfish when I think that, so selfish and so worthless. How can I say that? But it’s true, it’s really, really true. And when I think about that, when I think about all the other people suffering worse than me, it just makes me feel so horribly selfish. Like, like all my problems are so stupid and selfish and telling others would only hurt them, and didn’t I want to take everyone else’s burdens away? I’m so stupid. And it just, it hurts.”

Xiao sat there quietly once more, waiting as you cried. At one point you seemed to collapse in on yourself, leaning against his shoulder as if to support yourself. Only then did Xiao allow himself to move. Carding his hands through your hair he said nothing, he merely waited.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. You already have enough burdens, I know. I shouldn’t be complaining to you of all people. I, if you want you can tell me if something is wrong. I mean, you always can, I, just. I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“My burdens are my own,” Xiao replied softly, finally letting the emotions swirling through him try to string together as words. “It has nothing to do with you. It never will. You, you should come to me when you feel burdened.”

“But then I’m only passing my problems onto you!”

“I told you, my chains are my own. They are the payment for my contract. They aren’t what you tell me or push on me. If you feel these burdens then give to me. That is my duty.”

“But Xiao, I, I don’t want to. I don’t want to be a problem.”

“How can you say something so stupid,” Xiao scoffed. Bringing his hand to your cheek he sighed softly. “You will never be a problem. You will always be dear to me. Let me help you. You help so many humans. I want to help you.”

“I, I don’t know,” you spoke, voice faltering.

Though Xiao could still feel the tension in the air, could still see the miasma which swirled around you, there was something fragile about it. It was as if Xiao could reach through the tangled threads and pull them away, if only he could find a way to do so. Stroking your cheek softly Xiao pressed his forehead to yours. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath in. After a few moments he heard you do the same.

The rest of the evening Xiao stayed vigilant by your side, listening as you finally let yourself say all the things that had been weighing down upon you. It was painful, listening to you. Xiao constantly had to fight the urge to tell you how wrong you were, how much you mattered and how far he would go to bring you all the happiness he could possible gather in his stained hands. Still he said nothing, for if you had taught him anything it was that simply listening could do infinitely more than promising to fight or trying to shoulder each burden as you lay them out in the daylight.

Eventually you grew exhausted, a combination of the crying and the talking and the reliving. As Xiao listened to your breath even out, softly shifting your head from leaning on his shoulder to resting in his lap, the yaksha thought about all that had happened.

Xiao had assumed that you were somehow above all the humans around you. Purer, gentler, kinder. He hadn’t stopped to think how that might have affected you. Now that he knew that wasn’t true, now that Xiao knew how deeply you felt, how sometimes your mind too chased after darkness or found itself struggling to keep above water, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d missed something before. Perhaps you shouldered these burdens and perhaps you were just as human as the rest. You were still kind, kind and selfless and utterly beautiful. And Xiao still loved you in a way that continued to burn brightly through his soul.

#genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao #alatus #genshin impact fanfiction #requested #oneshot #my writing

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yolkyeomie · 3 years

Text

Humanity of the Inhuman | Kim Sunwoo

summary — legends are meant for the wild fantasies of the dream world, but when one myth suddenly comes true, you find yourself tangled within its webs of reality.

word count — 5.9k words

pairing — sunwoo x female!reader (ft x juyeon)

genre —college au, gumiho au

disclaimer —!! light mentions of death, blood, and injury !! lol happy birthday to my favorite writing muse in the world, sunwoo :)

part I | part II | part III | part IV?

You close the door behind you, a deep sigh falling out your mouth as you try to recount the events from today. Though you didn’t get very much time to yourself before you were rudely interrupted by banging coming from you bathroom door and an irritated voice shouting at you. “Hey! I know you’re here, I heard the door open and close! Are you going to let me out now or what?”

You glanced down the hall that led to the bathroom and saw the yellow paper talisman stuck on the door, completely untouched since you had placed it there to keep the gumiho in one place. “Wow, it actually works.” You mumble to yourself, slowly approaching the door knowing that the boy inside was struggling to escape.

You didn’t know how effective the talisman would be since nine tails were said to be rather powerful beings but it was truly working wonders to keep him in one place. Maybe he wasn’t very strong in reality? “Hey fox boy! I’ve got some questions, if you answer at least one of them I’ll let you out.”

You could hear the boy scoff from the inside, probably in disbelief that he was being held hostage by a human with no power to their name. “Doesn’t that sound fair?” You continued, “your freedom for information that I want, good deal right?”

“I don’t think I’m understanding correctly,” the boy began, slamming his fist against the bathroom door one last time to try and break free. You jumped back on instinct, the gumiho’s strength shaking the door on its hinges. Yet the paper talisman stood strong and refused to budge, making it hard for you to not break a smile a few moments later at the gumiho’s struggle. “What information could you, a human, possibly need from a gumiho, huh? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I’m curious,” you admit, sitting down in front of the door and watching the boy’s shadow underneath the small gap in the door. “I'm taking mythology as a fun little elective class and we were just beginning to learn the lore behind nine tailed foxes, I just wanna see which type of myths are true and fake.”

“And you had to lock me,” the door handle jiggled for a moment to show the gumiho’s distress, “in your bathroom to do this?”

“You tried to kill me! What else was I supposed to do?” You complained, frustrated with the boy despite not even being face to face with him. “I was lucky enough to have a talisman sitting in my house that my parents had gotten me weeks ago! If I didn’t push you in there and put the talisman on the door, you probably would have eaten my liver or something.”

“I wouldn’t have eaten your liver,” the boy argued, a loud thump hitting the door as he spoke. It didn’t sound like a punch, more like he had put his back on the door and leaned ups against it. “Even if I wanted to, you made the dumb decision of saving me so now I’m in debt to you.”

“What? I’m sorry, can you run that back for a second?” You questioned, scooting up toward the door eagerly at this new piece of information. “What do you mean you're in debt to me?”

“The other day, when you told me you had saved me after I was attacked? You’ve binded me to you for doing me that favor, leaving me in debt to you. I cannot harm you while I’m debt to you unless I repay you for it.”

The silence between the two of you let a cold shiver run down your spine, though you were too busy processing the information he had given you. “It’s kinda like… an honor code but for gumihos. It was put in place by higher spirits in hopes of lessening the attacks caused by us. It never really worked though, no one dares to approach a fox in fear of being eaten.”

“I’m guessing that’s how it was centuries ago or something…,” you snorted, crossing your arms as you reminisced upon you accidentally stumbling across his injured body.

“Because no one tried, the message never got passed down to the next generations,” he explained, “so it’s become a lost piece of our mythos. Honestly I would have liked to keep it that way as well, but here you are bringing this rule back to fruition. Either way, I’m not going to kill you until I repay you, so there’s no need to keep me in here anymore.”

“You promise you’re not going to jump out and eat my liver the moment I open the door?” You questioned him, getting off the ground as you spoke.

The other side of the door was quiet for a moment before the boy finally answered, “you have my word.”

Cautiously, you put one hand on the door handle and took the talisman within the other. With silent prayer to any otherworldly being that might be watching you and the gumiho from above, you snatched the talisman off of the door and braced yourself for the unforgiving claws of the nine tailed fox you had trapped in your bathroom.

Though all you were greeted by was the grateful smile of the boy you had rescued, a hint of mischief sparkling in his ever changing amber eyes before settling to a deep dark brown to blend in with the mortals of your world. “That wasn’t that hard was it? Now if you excuse me—“

Before you even had the chance to retaliate, the boy darted between you and the door like a quick breeze in the air. He was much faster than you had anticipated, though it should have been expected from a creature such as a nine tailed fox. “Wait, where are you going? I had questions to ask!”

The boy stopped in his tracks, struggling to comprehend where the exit to your home was. He may have been in your house, but the most he had seen was your living room and bathroom. He cursed under his breath for finding himself trapped in an unfamiliar surroundings once again. You watched as the gumiho let out a deep sigh of frustration, turning around to face you with an annoyed yet sweet smile on his face. “Of course… the questions. How could I forget! Tell me, what is it that a human wants to know about gumihos?”

You held up the talisman as a warning sign, not knowing if it still had any useful power to it but it was definitely enough to get the nine tailed fox on his best behavior. “First off, who are you? Or more like… what’s your name? And why were you bleeding to death in rain when I found you?”

“Asking for a lot already, aren’t you?” He mumbled, snorting to himself as he threw himself onto your small couch. “My name is Sunwoo and as you know I am a nine tailed fox. As to why I was bleeding in that alleyway… I was attacked, like I told you before.”

“Okay, Sunwoo, I get that you were attacked but why?” You continued to pester, your curiosity of the gumiho’s situation overtaking your thoughts. The more he tried to hide what was going on, the more curious you became. Though you shouldn’t get close thanks to Juyeon, who knew what he’d do to you if you got closer. “A small argument doesn’t just lead into nearly murdering a person! Or well… fox.”

“My apologies…” he trailed off, looking to you for information.

“Y/N,” you answered him, “it’s Y/N.”

“My apologies, Y/N, but that sort of information is classified,” Sunwoo shrugged, flinching slightly as you threatened him with the talisman, “I just don’t think you’d want to involve yourself in gumiho business. It’s not something a human should be sticking their nose into either way.”

You roll your eyes at his excuse, pointing to yourself as you exclaimed, “have you already forgotten? I am your savior and you’re in debt to me! I should at least know why the victim was keeping attacked in the first place don’t you think? Just think of it as… you repaying your debt to me now.”

“That’s not how that works.” The boy explained, slightly cringing at your actions as he watched you place yourself upon a pedestal to ring information out of him. “I’m in debt to you, yeah, but it means I quite literally owe my life to you. You saved my life, now under whatever circumstances that might occur, I will save yours.”

“Tell me why happened, Sunwoo,” you urged, a little more aggressively this time.

“I stole a fox bead from another gumiho.” He admitted, crossing his arms as he leaned back into the couch. You could almost feel Sunwoo’s hair on his skin rise as he recalled the events prior, trying to decide what he wanted to say and what he’d keep from you. “They had found me and attacked in an attempt to get it back and as a result, left me there to die when they thought they had retrieved it. Luckily for me, they took a fake instead.”

“Fox bead?” You questioned, trying to wrack your head around in an attempt to remember if you had heard of such a thing before. Though you’re not sure if your mythology class had gotten far enough into your gumiho lesson to cover it. “What is that, fox beads?”

“It’s a bead for foxes, everyone has one,” Sunwoo teased, though quickly adding the actual explanation before you could threaten him again, “it’s a bead that provides most of the power and future knowledge that a gumiho could ever ask for, making them one of the most popular beings alive. The only way to obtain this amount, though, is by absorbing the energy of a human.”

“By kissing them?” You questioned, and Sunwoo nodded his head in reply. “My god, I can’t believe he was actually right…” you realized, recalling the information that Juyeon had given you. Nine tailed foxes feed off of a human’s existence, but who would have known they gain more power as a result of taking an innocent human’s life.

Instinctively, you cover your mouth as defense against Sunwoo, not completely trusting the gumiho as he laughed at you. “Have you already forgotten, Y/N? You’re my savior, I owe my life to you. I can’t harm you until that debt has been paid off.”

“Why would you steal a fox bead if every gumiho has one? Just go fill up your own bead you… sicko…” you glare, the vivid image of the gumiho in front of you snatching the life out of humans prevalent in your mind.

“I stole it because the gumiho who had this specific one had almost filled it all.” Sunwoo explained, he held his hand out for you to see as a flash of light sparked in his palms, an object beginning to form within his grasp as his eyes turned the same amber yellow as before. You watched as a glowing bead appeared in his hands, the same color as his foxish eyes and making a light jingle sound every time it moved.

“This is…,” you mumbled, mesmerized by such a beautiful crystal being presented to you.

“The fox bead, the nearly completed fox bead.” Sunwoo nodded. “There hasn’t been a fox bead of this variety in many, many millennia. If the gumiho I stole this from gets his hands on this again and gives it the last bit of human energy it needs? All hell will break loose. That’s what I stole it, or was instructed to steal it. A fox bead of this strength cannot be destroyed by just any gumiho, but by a—”

“Shut up for a second,” you interrupted him, putting the talisman down as inching closer to the fox bead. As the object moved around in Sunwoo hands, the jingling continued to get louder and louder in your head. It got to the point where it finally clicked in your head as to why you were drawn to fox bead in the first place. “I’ve heard this before, the ringing… jingling sound it makes.”

“The fox bead?” Sunwoo questioned, his eyes shooting up to yours at an alarming speed. When you nodded your head his amber yellow eyes snapped back to the natural dark browns and the fox bead disappeared from his hands. “What do you mean you heard the fox bead?”

“Before I found you, I heard jingling. Like… bells or wind chimes or something like that. I followed it because I was curious and it led me straight to you.” You explained yourself, recalling the events rather easily. “And it happened again earlier today when I was on the phone with my friend. It led me outside of my room which brought me straight to where you were. I guess what I was hearing all along was the fox bead.”

“Y/N…” he mumbled, struggling to father his thoughts as he spoke. “Y/N, the fox bead doesn’t make any noise. Or at least, humans cannot hear the jingling of a fox bead unless they are the gumiho’s next target. And we already know it couldn’t have been me because I’m in debt to you.”

You thought to yourself for a moment before replying, “are you saying that the gumiho you stole from… he was planning on using my energy to complete his fox bead?”

II.

“Okay, I understand this is a serious situation, but is all of this really necessary?” You turned your wary gaze toward Sunwoo, fidgeting with the sleeves of your jacket as you watched the boy wander not too far behind you.

Despite your cautious tone, the gumiho was a lot more relaxed than you were. Dressed brand new clothes you had bought specifically for him the day before, Sunwoo took in his surroundings with his keen dark eyes in search of the gumiho that was targeting you. “Of course it’s necessary. If I leave you to your own devices, the gumiho targeting you may try to strike and you will be gone before anyone finds out what happened… if they find out what happened that is.”

You shouldn’t be feeling this anxious about everything. After all you are on your turf, the college campus, and you have a mythical nine tailed fox following your move. You're more safe here than you could be anywhere else. Maybe it’s the fact that you can’t believe any of this is actually happening, it feels like you're in some sort of twisted fairytale than reality if you had to be honest.

Seriously, nine tailed foxes? Fox beads? Being the final victim for the beast? None of that is believable if you were simply hearing it but here you are experiencing it all.

“Well, at least don’t stick around so close,” you scold him, shooing him as far away as you could. “What if I come into contact with the nine tailed fox, and he sees you? He thinks you’re dead after all!”

“Actually...” Sunwoo trailed off, trying to word his next sentence as gently as possible. “Not exactly…? I mean… maybe like a day or two ago he would have believed I’m dead but—”

You stop in your tracks immediately, spinning on your heel to face the gumiho with a furious glint in your eyes, “—What do you mean ‘but’, Sunwoo?”

“It doesn’t take long for a gumiho to realize when they have a fox bead that’s not theirs,” he explained leaning up against the wall and fiddling with his hair as he spoke. “It’s an innate ability we all have, the one that the gumiho took was mine and that thing is completely empty. It was enough to give me time to get out of the city but then…”

“I found you and we figured out that the nine tailed fox was coming for me.” You finished off, wanting to curse yourself for ever stopping for the boy in the first place. You almost wish you didn’t get yourself involved with the nine tailed foxes, almost. “What's the point in doing all of this then?”

“It’s so I can find out where exactly the gumiho is hiding and keep him from you,” Sunwoo grinned, “and then stall him just enough so that I take his fox bead and destroy it.”

You stared at him for a few moments more before letting out an intensely deep sigh. For some reason, the plan that Sunwoo had created didn’t seem very fool proof. But what could you do? After all, you were the human and he was the gumiho. He knew a lot more about nine tailed foxes then you could ever imagine. He, unfortunately, held your life in the palm of his hands.

“Well you can’t stay beside me all of time,” you hissed, finally approaching the room that held your mythology class. “I don’t think I really want to explain to my class how I found and saved a nine tailed fox right after we started the course for your mythos.”

“You can let me in, it’s fine!” He grinned, trying to weasel his way past you and into the class before you could catch him. “I want to know what humans learn about gumihos! You know, give them a few pointers and let them know what’s true and what’s not true.”

“Sunwoo, no!” You snapped, your hands wrapping around his shirt collar and pulling him back as hard as you could. He lurched backward and nearly tumbled to the ground, shocked by your sudden burst of strength. “Are you really trying to keep me safe or are you in cahoots with the other nine tailed fox, him?”

The boy frowned at your accusations, forcing himself back into his feet as he opened his mouth, “Y/N—“

“Y/N!” You turned your head with neck breaking speed to see Juyeon approaching you from down the hall, his gleeful and generous smile beaming down on you once he got your attention. In a panic you turned back to Sunwoo, wanting to give your last attempt at shooing him away before realizing he had disappeared within an instant. The last hint of the gumiho’s mere existence was the faint jingle of the fox bead he had stolen echoing in your ears, so at least you knew he was still around.

You spun on your heels to face Juyeon as relaxed as possible, anxiously fumbling with your hands as he stopped in front of you. “You’re rather early aren’t you? Who were you talking to?”

“I was on the phone,” you quickly responded, your mind running miles as you tried your best to give him an excuse, “with Kevin! He was just checking up on me after the whole… spirits in my house fiasco.”

“Oh, I remember you coming to me about that,” he nodded, nervously adjusting the bag slung over his shoulder. “Are you okay actually? You never gave me an update on the sounds you were hearing and it… worried me, I guess.”

You slowly begin to smile at Juyeon’s kindness, jokingly punching him in the shoulder as you said, “aw, how sweet! Checking up on your good ol’ school friend, huh?”

“School friend…,” he trailed off, hesitating for a moment before smiling at you with the tips of his ears burning a slight shade of red. “Of course I’m worried about my school buddy! Mythology isn't fun without you there with me after all.”

You pat his back in reassurance, “don’t worry, everything is fine for the most part. Though…,” you stopped, wondering how you could discreetly mention Sunwoo’s existence and his warning of you being hunted by a nine tailed fox to the boy. Did you need to tell him actually? None of that was actually of Juyeon’s concern. But… he did say he was worried about you.

“If I needed to go somewhere… somewhere away from my home…,” the jingling from the past few days echoed in your ears as you spoke to him. The fox bead, Sunwoo, was nearby again. You should finish this conversation as quickly as you could. “Would you open your dorm to me? Just for like a day or so! I wouldn’t overstay—“

“Of course!” He blurted, his eyes wide with glee but quickly glistening over with embarrassment. Juyeon cleared his throat as he tried to continue the conversation as normal as he possibly could. “I mean— uh— I’d be happy to, don’t worry. I’d have to clean up a lot and move Hyunjae out so he won’t bother you so just… make sure to give me a heads up, okay?”

You blinked once, then twice, then once more just in case you were seeing what you were seeing. After a few moments of awkward silence after the boy’s rambling, you grinned at him. “Why didn't you question me for not asking Kevin first?”

“I…,” Juyeon struggled to reply, his face flushing as he realized what he had done. “You’re my school friend, Y/N! I’m going to help you when I can, of course. What type of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

You couldn’t tell if the awkward silence between the two of you was because of Juyeon’s terrible lie or the fact that both of you were still astonished by what came out of his mouth. Though you didn’t have time to ponder on it any longer when the fox bead jingled in your ears again and the boy finally piped up, “I’m gonna go ahead and head inside now. See you, Y/N, in like… three minutes or something, I don’t know—“

“—I’m gonna make a call back to Kevin first,” you added on, finally gaining control over your body again as you pulled out your phone and gestured to it. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

He nodded a few more times than needed before skipping into the mythology class, not even daring to look back at you as he disappeared within the class. You couldn’t tell whether Juyeon’s genuinely just being his normal kind self to you or if his actions were motivated by something deeper, you honestly didn’t want to find out at the moment. Not when there was a gumiho out for your head at the moment.

“Alright, Sunwoo, you can come out now—“ your breath hitched as you felt a hand tug aggressively at your wrist, practically snatching you away from the doors to your mythology classroom and into a more secluded hallway.

When you looked up Sunwoo loomed over you, his dark eyes turning into its mystic amber yellow and his nails digging into your skin as his grip grew tighter and tighter. “Are you crazy?” He questioned, though the jingle of the fox bead he had stolen nearly drowned out his voice. “Why were you talking to him?”

“Juyeon?” You question, yanking your arm away from him and taking a giant step away from him. “He’s… he’s my friend, why would I not talk to him? I’ve been taking this class with him since the semester started. He’s a good guy, don’t worry about him.”

“He’s not some good guy, Y/N,” Sunwoo warned, holding out his fist for you to see. Curiously you watched as the fox bead began to form in the palm of his hand, gleaming a much brighter light and practically pulsing with the energy of humans trapped within it. For something so morbid, you sure found it beautiful. “Juyeon is a gumiho, why are you trusting him?”

“Huh?” You respond, unsure of whether or not you had actually heard him correctly. “I’m sorry, repeat that one more time for me.”

“Lee Juyeon,” Sunwoo answered, reciting his full name without you even needing to tell him, “is a gumiho, the very gumiho I stole this fox bead from. Juyeon is targeting you.”

III.

“Y/N!” Sunwoo yelled, banging his fist against the bathroom door like he had been doing for the past couple of days. He was in time out for telling such a ridiculous lie and assuming you’d believe him right off of the bat just because he was a mythical creature. “Y/N, why are you being like this? Can you at least talk to me again.”

You didn’t respond as you laid face first on your couch, struggling to block out the gumiho’s voice from your head. Did he really think you’d believe that Juyeon, the boy you’ve known for nearly the entire semester, was a gumiho? Nine tailed foxes may be master manipulators, but there were some lies that were outrageous enough for even the most simpleminded folk to see past.

“Y/N, you can’t keep me in here forever! Juyeon will come after you when least expect it and—“

“Shut up!” You finally snapped, grabbing a hold of one of the cheap decorative pillows laid across your couch and throwing it as hard as you physically could at the bathroom door. Though the pillow only made it halfway across the room before crashing to the ground without a sound, leaving your sigh of frustration to fill the gap left by the silence.

“I just… I don’t understand. You humans make no sense at all! Why is it so hard to accept the fact that Juyeon is a gumiho?” Sunwoo complained, forcing you to get off the couch and march your way toward the bathroom door. “You wanted to figure out why you heard the fox bead make noise and now you have your answer, Juyeon has been targeting you this entire time! Why are you defending him so hard—“

You snatched the talisman off the door and swung the door open with the ferocity of a tiger, taking the nine tailed fox off guard and watching him stare up at you with a wide eyed and frazzled expression. “Maybe I’m defending him so hard because I’ve been him much longer than I’ve known you! Juyeon has been nothing but… but sweet and kind to me all semester, he’s been looking out for me for who knows how long, and you just want me to believe that he’s out to take my life?”

Sunwoo blinked at your words before vigorously nodding his head, “yes, of course!”

An angry growl of frustration escaped your mouth, getting ready to slap the talisman back on the door and lock the nine tailed fox back inside. “Aren’t gumihos literally trickster spirits? I can’t believe I’ve believed everything that’s come out of your mouth so far. Who knows how many times you’ve already lied to me? Next thing I know you’re going to try and eat my livers when I least expect it!”

However the boy was much more sly and quicker than you could have ever been, so he easily slipped out of the way before you could do so, “I thought I already explained I’m not going to kill you? I physically cannot do so. I have an honor code to follow, genius!”

“How do I know that’s not a lie too, hm?” You questioned, crossing your arms like a child as you walked away from him. “You have no proof of this… this nine tailed fox honor code. How should I trust the words that come out your mouth, hm?”

Sunwoo frowned, the corners of his mouth going as low as they possibly could. “Do you like him or something? Suddenly all the trust we’ve built up has crumbled into nothingness, it’s really getting on my nerves.”

“I do not like Juyeon, he’s just a really good friend!” You shouted, retaliating sharply to the nine tailed fox. The boy nodded his head slowly, clearly not believing your words and rolling his eyes not long after. “But the stuff you’re saying? Unbelievable, this entire situation is unbelievable as is!”

“How do I make you believe what I say, without you accusing me of being a ‘master manipulator’?” Sunwoo mocked, though genuinely trying to find a solution to your disagreement. “I could tell you that I can’t lie to save my life, but you’d think that’s me trying to manipulate you or something again. You know, not all gumihos are good at lying! Some of us are—“

“Prove it,” you demanded, gesturing around your living room as you waited for him to respond. “Prove that you’re not going to harm me and prove that Juyeon is actually a nine tailed fox. I need cold hard facts and visual evidence before I can go on and trust you with my life again.”

“Y/N,” Sunwoo whined, trying to get you to let him off the hook just this one time. Yet you shook your head, sat down on the couch, and simply waited for him to somehow prove he wasn’t just being the stereotypical nine tailed fox she had been learning.

“Go on,” you urged him, “I’m waiting.”

The gumiho looked around in a frenzy, unsure of what exactly he could do to win your trust. You sat and watched him struggle, trying to wrack your own brain around why you had trusted Sunwoo so easily. Was it because you found him while he was injured and dying? But you should never trust strangers in the street anyway, whether they were at death’s door or not!

Maybe it was that cursed fox bead, it’s soft ring echoing in your ears and clouding your judgement each time you needed to make a decision. Were you even sure that the fox bead wasn’t actually his? He could have been lying about that whole situation too…

“I got it!” Sunwoo exclaimed, catching you off guard and shaking you from your thoughts. You look up to see the boy holding his hands out in front of him, his eyes beginning to shift into that familiar amber yellow and an object forming in his hands.

“Hey! No gumiho powers can be used!” You yelled, leaping up from your seat to stop him. Though the gumiho only stepped out of the way, raising his hands straight up so that you couldn’t reach him. “How do I know that it doesn’t amplify your ability to manipulate or not?”

“This can’t be done without the power of a gumiho in the first place,” he hissed, lowering his hands once the stolen fox bead finally materialized in his hands. “Do you want me to prove that I can’t harm you or what?”

You hesitate for a moment and a large smile begins to grow across Sunwoo’s face. “Then this is the only way I can prove it to you. I’ve told you once before that the fox bead is used to absorb human energy, so I’m going to use it on you to show that I genuinely cannot hurt you.”

“Use the fox bead on me…?” You repeat, letting his words slowly process before Juyeon’s words begin to blare through your head. “Wait… doesn’t that require like… kissing me? No, absolutely not! What if this is just a plow to kill me or something?”

“Y/N,” Sunwoo held the fox bead in his hands, it’s glow shining through the crevices of his hands as he spoke, “do you trust me?”

“No!” You quickly replied, “no, I do not!”

“Perfect, that’s the whole point of us doing this then!” He grinned, opening his mouth and dropping the fox bead in like a piece of candy. “It’ll be like two seconds, don’t worry! Well, it’ll feel like two seconds depending on whether or not the fox bead actually absorbs your energy...”

“Sunwoo!” You snap, finding yourself trapped behind the couch and the nine tailed fox in front of you. He took two enthusiastic steps forward before you put your hands in front of you, pushing him to arms length as you quickly spilled, “are you sure this is the way we have to do this? Can you figure out any other way?”

“No I can’t,” Sunwoo hissed between clenched teeth, urging you to put your hands down. “Can we please get this over with so that we can move on to other things? This will take like two seconds.”

“Ugh, fine!” You finally comply, tapping your lips and growling out, “let’s just… get this over with, if you end up actually killing me with this I will haunt you in the afterlife!”

The gumiho leaned in close, his hands hovering over your shoulders and his breath fanning across your face while the sparkle of the fox bead glistening in the corner of your eye. It gleamed in between the roof of his mouth and tongue before you no longer could catch sight of its glow, Sunwoo’s lips pressed fully onto yours without warning of his sudden roughness.

You yelp at his actions but it was entirely eaten up by the gumiho pressing his hands into you, engulfing the fleeting moment as quickly as he could. Somehow you found the strength to separate yourself from him, taking a moment to inhale just once and let out a “Sunwoo—“ before the boy dove right back in again.

He moved from your shoulders to cup your face in his hands while his weight pushed the both of you onto the couch below. You were practically drowning in the gumiho’s desires, too engrossed in Sunwoo’s kiss to notice the fox bead rolling out of his mouth into yours. Though the boy pulled back suddenly, breaking kiss and leaving the two of you breathless and in silence. If you didn’t have the willpower to hold yourself back, you probably would have pulled him back in again… how embarrassing.

His amber yellow eyes twinkled for a moment before shifting back into its illusion of a dark brown and he finally spoke to break the stillness of your home, “look to the sky, look to the land, and then look the people,” Sunwoo explained, having deep breaths after each sentence, “then swallow the fox bead.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before the gumiho kissed you again, filling you up with the same adrenaline from not even a few seconds ago then retaking the fox bead from your mouth. You blinked a few times to bring yourself back to reality, wanting to ground yourself before speaking another word out your mouth, “why?”

“That’s how you defend yourself against a gumiho and destroy the fox bead all together.” Sunwoo responded, rising off of the couch and taking a few steps away from you. “The only reason you didn’t feel your energy being drained was because that wasn’t my fox bead and I am obligated to protect you, not harm you. You just need to know in case Juyeon takes his back and comes for you.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me instead of—,” you cut yourself off, covering your mouth with your hands and hoping desperately that Sunwoo didn’t catch the intense burning of your ears or beating of your heart, “instead of… showing... me...”

Sunwoo grinned, a grin so eerily similar to a real fox that you almost scoffed. “Because you thought I was manipulating you and wanted me to prove my innocence. Oh and don’t worry about me proving Juyeon is a gumiho, I’ve got something planned that will help.”

He stopped talking for a moment, licking his lips as you finally found the strength to sit upright on the couch and turned his piercing dark eyes toward you. “Of all the things, I didn’t expect you to taste like strawberries? How… interesting.”

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skekheck · 3 years

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Theory: UrVa’s Arrows Were Originally Meant To Incapacitate, Not Kill, skekMal

Maybe this is common consensus, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. On the surface, it seemed like urVa had wanted to put an end to skekMal at the Circle of the Suns and the Hunter escaped before he could finish the job. But then there was this line in episode 10 that always felt odd to me:

urVa: I had a dream that I was one that became two that became one again. I looked through my dark half’s eyes and knew Aughra was right. [...] ...The Hunt must end.

It’s just “but urVa, weren’t you doing just that a day or so prior?”. But then after rewatching their standoff again it hit me: maybe urVa’s intentions were not to kill skekMal but to incapacitate him.

Let’s look at the scene again

SkekMal was shot a total of three times: the first one through his upper arm, the second around the bottom right of his torso, and the last through his upper leg (possibly thigh?).

(Sorry couldn’t find a better pic of his leg shot)

Weird places to aim for if urVa had wanted to kill him, right? Wouldn’t he have gone for targets that would more likely result in death, like the throat or through the eye sockets? It’s not like he would miss: urVa’s a master marksman. Instead, all three shots prevented (or at least was an attempt to stop) skekMal without taking his life.

The first shot prevented skekMal from harming Rian. The second was retaliation for ignoring the Archer’s warning. UrVa flat out told him to not approach the Gelfling but you see the Hunter take a step forward anyway, prompting him to release the second arrow. The final one was an attempt to stop skekMal from escaping with Brea. Seeing as how urVa immediately collapsed after firing that arrow, it would have worked. However, he underestimated how committed skekMal was to the Hunt, considering he pushed through the pain to get what he needed done.

Those arm and leg wounds aren’t inherently life-threatening. The arrow in his torso, though, is more concerning. It’s possible it could have had or at least be at risk of damaging his organs. Now, the Skeksis have weird-as-fuck anatomy (that goes without saying) so we have no real way of knowing if it was endangering him or not. But considering the nature of his other two wounds, I don’t think it was a kill shot. A more serious wound, but not deadly if tended to. And that’s probably what urVa intended: he aimed for that spot in the hopes skekMal would stop to take care of his wounds.

But Weren’t Both skekMal and urVa In Critical Condition?

Oh yeah, they still were and skekMal’s partially to blame for it. It’s not a great idea to move around too much with arrows lodged in you. The arrow heads and shaft could move around and cause more internal damage. SkekMal moving made what would have been minor to moderate wounds way more serious. Not to mention, he never stopped to pull them out and heal himself: he kept those things in.

And let’s not forget how far of a distance between the Circle of the Suns and the Castle is. There are multiple versions of maps of Thra that have some siginifcant differences, but the main point is those two locations are pretty far from each other. Even if he used Bennu to fly all the way over to the Castle, skekMal would still have to deal with Brea thrashing around on his back. And it looks like he took a detour to grab a cage for her, which he then dragged through the Castle’s corridors. Baiting Rian and his friends just so he can fulfill his Hunt was apparently more important to him than his well-being (which is ironic if you believe skekMal’s philosophy surrounding the Hunt is his own way of self-preservation).

EDIT: Wanted to add that skekMal was in a difficult position in terms of what he wanted. He would know that if he’d pull those arrows out he would have to treat them right away otherwise he’d bleed to death. At the same time, he would also had to keep Brea from escaping. I think he weighed his options and found that he’d had more success just pushing through it and keeping them in then treat them later. SkekMal might had also thought the other Skeksis would be able to treat him if it was serious enough?

And SkekTek Made It Worse

SkekTek is no doctor. He can cut up and research on animals all he wants, but that doesn’t count as medical knowledge. It’s painfully obvious he has no idea what he’s doing: his diagnosis and treatment of skekMal’s condition is enough proof of that. And speaking of which, skekTek’s diagnosis is full of nonsense:

Skektek: Subject suffers severe exsanguination. Extreme distress to the humus. [...] Imbalance of intrinsic fluids. Manifold ruptures in corporeal morphology. [Checks for a heart beat] Ah. Ah... . Expiration... is... [dramatic pause] inevitable.

Literally he’s saying skekMal has multiple holes in his body and he’s bleeding out. You know, pointing out the obvious. Also, I tried finding out if “humus” related to anything biologically, but all I could find was it’s a term for... soil made of organic matter. I’m not sure what he was trying to refer to, I think he was just misusing it to make himself sound smart.

EDIT: I have been told by a few people that skekTek might be referring the humerus, which is a bone found in the upperarm that’s forms joints at the elbow and shoulder. This would make more sense and would mean skekTek made a proper diagnosis. However, at least to me, it still sounds like he’s saying humus. Another skeksis repeats him and they also say humus, not humerus. Turning on the captions also has it as humus. This could either be a typo or skekTek did mean humerus, but said humus instead.

And how he actually treats skekMal is atrocious.

He pulls the arrows out without making any attempts to stop the bleeding, clean the wounds, or apply stitches. He’s letting him bleed out and he should at least know they need blood to live. Do you know what happens when someone loses too much blood? Among other side effects, organ failure and falling into a coma. SkekTek did eventually made an effort to heal skekMal by giving him essence, but it was too little too late. SkekMal’s condition was so far gone at that point he really needed Aughra’s essence to survive.

UrVa’s Intentions

And now we’re going right back to urVa. While thinking over on urVa’s actions, I started wondering if he anticipated skekMal wouldn’t stay put and that the Hunter would do his own self in by moving around with the arrows lodged in him. I mean, urVa is a mystic, an indirect kill would make sense. But giving it more thought, I don’t think that’s the case. A lot of his actions during the series suggests otherwise.

UrVa was very contemplative, even saddened, about having to end the Hunt for skekMal. He is not like his other half: he respected and appreciated all life on Thra. He also sees the cycle of life as well as the wilderness as something untamable. This is implied while he was talking with Aughra in episode 4:

urVa: We do not get to decide when our part in the song is finished.

While urVa is one of the more proactive Mystics, he still is... a Mystic. He doesn’t believe he should manipulate or control what goes on around him and let things be. The Bestiary book points to the fact that while urVa did keep tabs on skekMal, he never interfered with his hunts. So it was a big deal when Aughra quested him with the task of stopping skekMal.

Also I’d like to point out urVa and Aughra’s final conversation because it’s also important for this discussion:

urVa; And where does my path lead? Aughra: Into the sands to face the Hunter. urVa: [sighing and looks away from Aughra for a moment] I cannot defeat my dark half. Aughra: You will find a way. But not without sacrifice. urVa: And if I fail? Aughra: The heroes of Thra will be lost. urVa: Mm... [pauses and takes a deep breath] I will end the hunt. Aughra: Good. Get a move on. You Mystics are not known for your swift speed. We have much to do. [...] urVa: [pauses and looks at Aughra] Will we meet again, Aughra? Aughra: [stops walking, saddened] Hm... [faces him] Some things... even Aughra cannot see, old friend. [urVa pauses and then groans, walks away from Aughra as they both parted ways for the final time]

He shows a lot of hesitance in completing this task. I’m sure he knew what Aughra was implying: that he may have to take skekMal’s life away but he still went and asked if they would meet each other again anyway. I think he was hoping for a positive answer, that it wouldn’t have to come to that, and seemed disheartened by her answer. But he still tried. He tried to stop skekMal in a way that, while not exactly peaceful, was not meant to be life-threatening. UrVa even pleads for him to stop... twice! The first time as skekMal was making his get-away and the second time while urVa helplessly watched him go after Rian again through the Hunter’s eyes.

These two only had one scene together so we don’t really know the extent of their relationship. But if there’s one thing that’s clear was the conflict between them. I mean, during their whole duel, the characters were purposely placed on opposite sides of the room while making sure to show that skekGra and urGoh, a pair who were able to find harmony, were always side by side. It’s also in the way they address each other: while urVa does refer to him as his dark half, he also called him by his name. SkekMal, meanwhile, only ever referred to urVa as his title and nothing more.

But I don’t think urVa had any ill-will towards his Skeksis. He seemed understanding of him and valued his life as much as he valued all living beings on Thra. I think if they both didn’t end up in a near-death situation, he’d try incapacitating skekMal again. However he understood and accepted his situation towards the end: with skekMal on an essence high, incapacitation method was no longer possible. If he allowed it to go on, all of Thra would be at risk. It was a desperate situation, but he knew Aughra was right. She gave up her life for the preservation of the world and urVa knew he had to do the same: for her and for Thra. The Hunt had to end and in order to protect the world he cherished he had to make the ultimate sacrifice.

#the dark crystal #skekmal #urva #I might go back into this and edit/add things but HERE YOU GO

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everything-laito · 3 years

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damn the brain be out here going BRRRRRR here’s the Laito and Cordelia Analysis (with a little bit of Karl sprinkled in) Part III

wow my fingers are freezing but my brain sure isn't!

aaaanyways, iiiiiit’s trauma time!!! Am I a productive member of society by writing these analyses? No. Do I gain anything by writing them? Kinda, my brain gets exercised and they’re fun to research for. But if you haven’t read the first part or the second part for some reason (I recommend reading them in order), there they are.

Once again, trigger warnings still apply; mainly about trauma, isolation, etc

I’m gonna talk about the trauma and effects it had on Laito and to attempt to extrapolate why he is the way he is. I have a lot of examples I want to go over and stuff to talk about, so I think the trauma part is going to be split between two (or maybe three) parts. I also have a little bit to say about Karlheinz.

As always, big ass rant under the cut!

Section 6: Neuroplasticity and Trauma

Oh???? More science vernacular??? You BET! Ok, neuroplasticity. I know I’ve talked about it on this blog. But, I seriously doubt that there is a madlad who has read all of my analyses (speaking of which, I should update the master list lmao) and I don’t expect anyone to do that LOL! Anyways, this neurological concept is the ability of neurons to adapt to certain circumstances or stimuli by creating new neurological pathways (through synapses). This basically relates to memory and learning. It’s why we don’t stay the same person as we grow and develop. It’s responsible from mindset changes to response to traumatic events. It plays a huge part in trauma, which is why “repressed memories” occur as well.

Trauma, taken from Psychology Today, is defined as:

...the experience of severe psychological distress following any terrible or life-threatening event. Sufferers may develop emotional disturbances such as extreme anxiety, anger, sadness, survivor’s guilt, or PTSD.

It’s a basic definition. And although I’d assume people would know what trauma is already, but knowing the lexical definition of something can be good to know before going into it.

Obviously, Laito has trauma, there’s literally no refuting that. But, the point I’m getting at, is the reason why he is the way he is today is because of neuroplasticity. As previously stated, we are going to assume the DL vampire brain works similarly or the same as a human brain. So, because of the stress put upon the brain (Cordelia’s actions and Laito’s general upbringing in a stress filled household), Laito’s brain was rewired (neuroplasticity). This section doesn’t really have much new information, but I wanted to give a baseline since there’s many people who don’t know what neuroplasticity is.

Laito’s definitely different than what he was as a kid. He still kind of had his smarts, and might have been but as we’ve deducted from the first part of this series, he might have been groomed. On top of that, the brain is easily moldable when you’re a child (which is why grooming makes sense for Laito’s case), and continues to snip brain cells off and form new connections.

Section 7: Little intermission about Karlheinz

I know I haven’t really talked about Karlheinz yet. So this will be the section that I do it in. I know this part is about Laito’s trauma, but it’s so hard to not just weave other characters into it. Nothing is stand-alone, which is why it was so hard for me to plan this out. I was debating about saving this for another analysis, but I feel like it fits.

I referenced this in Part II, Section 5 of this analysis series. Basically, Karlheinz throws Laito into the dungeon and locks him up. Not Karlheinz personally, but he ordered someone to do it. We don’t explicitly know why, but there’s several implications. A huge one is that it was part of Karlheinz’ experiment. Before Dark Fate, I was like “wait, so did Karl find out about Laito/Cordelia? And got like jealous or was like ‘nah this shit fucked up no thanks’?” I was really scratching my head on that. But in Dark Fate, you find that Karlheinz knew about Cordelia and Laito, and even really wanted it to happen. Which is all sorts of fucked up. This really put Laito in for a loop. Here’s a scene from Dark Fate:

Laito: That woman always, always believed in Karlheinz. Laito: She believed he married her because he loved her, wanted her. That’s why she was sure that one day... he will give his love only to her. Laito: But she was tricked. She wasn’t loved from the start... Laito: -And I’m a victim of this unbelievable mistake... That’s how it is. Laito: I was treated as a vent for her feelings. Yui: ...Laito-kun... Laito: I’m sure he knew that something like this will happen... He is a god after all... Laito: I was hoping that... He just overlooked it up until now... Laito: But... I was naive. Laito: I was only planned a scapegoat.

God, when I played this, that just freaking struck me to my core. That’s so awful. Ironically... Karlheinz probably has some high level of emotional intelligence. I don’t believe he could be labeled as a sociopath, considering he has this high level understanding of pathos. He’s not god in a sense that he controls everyone individually himself. He’s so good at manipulation that he basically creates fate itself (whether you believe in it or not). He’s generally intelligent and cunning, and it also just helps with the fact that he’s immortal and can time travel. He knows cause and effect by now, and I believe Lost Eden said something about how he’s done so many different “timelines.”

The definition of a god in a philosophical sense can be broken down into three words: omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent. More wicked cool jargon! Yay! Here’s what they mean for extra clarification:

Omniscient: All knowing Omnipresent: All seeing Omnipotent: All doing

Sure Karlheinz doesn’t absolutely know everything, nor can see everything, and he definitely has limits to his power, but he has gained knowledge through living for so many years and time traveling; he has familiars which add to the whole “all seeing” part; and he has a lot of power. So basically, in the most semi-”realistic” sense, it would definitely be the closest being to any kind of god.

Karlheinz is probably the reason why Laito himself has such contempt towards religion, and the existence of a god in general. Sure, the boys are like “that shit’s made up by humans” in general, but it would make sense for Laito himself to have that specific hatred. It makes sense that these vampires would be like “oh that’s made up by humans” when they’ve been around forever and have seen multiple religions come and go. (I’m mainly talking about in DL’s lore case, not starting a religious argument; please don’t take it as such––just to clarify)

Section 8: Isolation

Originally, the previous part was going to be about Laito’s isolation being locked up. However, I went off the rails and it turned into that little intermission. This is going to be a shorter section, but I still wanted to talk about, and it will weave into the next section.

There is no implications about how long Laito was locked up (and tortured) in the dungeon. There’s also no implications about why he was tortured. But torture and isolation puts such stress on the brain that there’s definitely going to be some kind of outcome if persisting for a good period of time. So let’s take a look at what that does to a person.

Once again, taking this with a grain of salt. I imagine vampires don’t need to rely on social interaction as much as humans do, considering they live forever. But we don’t know. However, throwing Laito into a state of isolation implies that it would be some type of torture or harsh punishment for a vampire, which therefore implies that social interaction is a necessity for emotional function. It’s just sound, inductive logic.

So now, as for isolation, I’m using this article as reference. It’s a pretty interesting one to read. Here’s another extensive article as well. Basically isolation can cause:

Depression/anxiety

Immune system deficiencies (basically more likely to get physically ill)

Sleep cycle changes (if put underground or with limited natural light)

Hallucinations

Paranoia

Issues with processing information and more susceptible to persuasion/manipulation

We have no clue if Laito’s experience fits all of these. Also, the second one can be crossed out because vampires in DL can’t get physically sick in the way we can. Also, unsure about the sleep cycle stuff considering they are used to being in the dark. Hallucinations and paranoia can’t be crossed off nor proven.

Being isolated physically and mentally exhausts the mind, which is why it’s also a way of torture. Laito implies that he was tortured with physical devices, but regardless, it’s still stress on the mind. This type of stress definitely goes along with what was mentioned with neuroplasticity and trauma, which also supports the last bullet point: issues processing information and being more susceptible to persuasion/manipulation. Take this flashback from Maniac Prologue in HDB that I used in Part II section 5 (but here’s even more context):

Laito: ーー Let me go!! Let me out of here! Butler: I can’t, young lord. We’ve received strict orders from your father. I am deeply sorry, but please stay put for a while. Laito: What’s the point in having me chained up in here!? Butler: ーーI am very sorry. Laito: Hahahaha…You stupid old man! Do you think that this will make repent!? How foolish! That demon! Has his brain finally rotten from spending too much time with humans!? ー Cordelia appears Cordelia: ー Oh? Laito: …!? Have you come to save me? Cordelia: Oh dear. Ufufu…I’m sorry Laito, that isn’t it. Laito: Eh? Richter: ー Why are you here? Laito: …That’s my line. Cordelia: Okay, okay. No fighting! More importantly, Richter…Come here. Laito: …!? Cordelia: Nnn…Hey, Laito. You are a good boy. Laito: …!! Cordelia: Right, Laito? Laito: Yeah, that’s right. I’m…I’m a good boy after all. ーー Besides, I’m the type of person who only get more aroused from this kind of thing.

Although I also use this to support the whole Stockholm syndrome point, this could also be supported with the trauma isolation also holds. His mind is being re-molded into the facade he holds. Also, note the whole “do you think this will make me repent?!” part. Just a very interesting thing. The word “repent” implies that there’s something to feel guilty about or the person knows that what they’ve done is bad. It just goes to show that Laito has some part of guilt or moral compass still in tact.

You can also argue that this scene was when Laito just got locked up, or he’s been here for a while. Either way, he could have also been socially isolated before this too, just hanging around Cordelia like it’s implied when he was a child. Remember the whole not being in bed 9/10 times when he was a child? Yeah, controlled social isolation. We also rarely see Laito with other characters in his flashbacks. I don’t believe we see him with his brothers in any of his flashbacks from what I can recall; he’s usually with Cordelia. Just implies (to me) that he’s around her a lot. And being locked up is also a more extreme case of that, which would mold the brain even more.

I know that was a LOT to process and read. I sure hope this still is cohesive for you all. I’m pretty bad at organizing this kind of stuff; it’s a bit difficult since it all just goes together. Which, kudos on the writers of DL, because that’s just good writing. I was going to put something about gaslighting in this part, but that might be too long, so I’m going to make that a separate part or include it in the next part.

If you have any questions, feel free to just put it in the inbox. I’m planning on making the last part of this series answering all the Laito/Cordelia questions I’ve received, or just general questions pertaining to this analysis in general, whether it be tangential questions or clarifying questions.

Hope you all are still enjoying this ride as much as I am! -Corn

#analysis #diabolik lovers analysis #diabolik lovers #dialovers #dialover #laito sakamaki #sakamaki laito #raito sakamaki #sakamaki raito

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vietzuko · 3 years

Text

if we used to share a discord server, this post is for you!

hello! i am going to try to do this as anonymously and non-confrontationally as possible. i do not want this to be a spectacle or call out post, but i will say that i am quite disturbed by the way situations have transpired on the server.

in case you didn’t notice, i left! when i left, i wrote a little goodbye post in #general, which has since been deleted. either the mods deleted my goodbye or they banned me from the server (which automatically would delete my message). in case you didn’t see it, here was my goodbye message:

hi everyone, i’m leaving the server. if you’re a POC who is interested in joining an ATLA server where POC can talk about ATLA and critically discuss race, feel free to PM me for a link! otherwise, this is goodbye. see you all around.

i won’t rehash everything that happened in the events leading to this, nor will i name names in this post. if you were on the server, you probably saw what happened publicly or you can message me personally, either here or on discord. if we know each other through the server and you want some clarity over names/events in this post, please PM me.

if you are a POC in the ATLA fandom who is concerned by the events of this post and you would like me to clarify which server i’m talking about, please PM me.

i just wanted to share the very long message that i sent to the mods (on their prompting!) because i feel that it shows my perspective on what transpired. unfortunately, this message did not result in any meaningful change, except for me getting banned/my messages removed from the server. i suppose that’s a type of meaning! haha.

anyway. here’s the message. cw for racism, yellowface

hi MOD 1 (and presumably the other mods who will read this message)! thanks for reaching out. i’ve had some time to dwell on the situation and discuss it with other people in the server who witnessed it and reached out to me personally. this is going to be an unbelievably long message, so i apologize in advance and thank you for your time in reading it.

i think the first thing i’d like to do is give some context for the incident and to give my perspective on why i said the things i said.

i have PMed a mod about a racist incident in the server exactly once. it was when i first joined, and i saw a picture of a white person in yellowface in the cosplay channel. i didn’t know any of you personally yet (and this was before some of you even joined on as mods). i have since told SERVER MEMBER 1 about this incident and i’m pretty sure they mentioned it to you because i noticed you’ve changed the yellowface rule. but i think that the context of me pinging a mod about a racist incident and then witnessing another (although less egregious) instance of racism by the mods might explain why i am, in general, hesitant about talking to mods about racism on the server. i am just trying to live my life and experience as few micro-aggressions as possible.

i also think the fact that i regularly educate and push back against white people’s racially harmful messages in the server is also important context. i realize none of you likely know this, but about every two weeks i receive an unsolicited PM from a different white person apologizing/asking for forgiveness/asking for reassurance/asking further questions about their racism on the server. i’m glad people are learning from me, but this is a huge amount of emotional labor that i put into the server and its members because of course i have to reply and explain things and tell them not to worry and thank them for apologizing, etc. i know that these messages aren’t your fault, nor am i asking you to do anything about this. but it feels important that you know the price that i (and perhaps other poc in the server, although i can’t speak to that) pay in order to share space with you.

MOD 2 has even messaged me personally to thank me for educating people in the server and responding to racist messages, saying: “really appreciate how much effort you put in and everything, i was trying to type something up but floundering badly.” it was a nice message, and i appreciated it a lot! it also led me to believe that the mods would prefer if i engage with racist messages myself, rather than ping them, because it felt like i was just going to be more able/willing to articulate a response anyway.

so when SERVER MEMBER 2 messaged the zukka channel “thought that lives in my head rent free: Sokka's hairstyle in canon is just a warrior's hairstyle and has meaning because of that. Sokka wearing the same hairstyle in a modern AU is undisputably queer-coded” and nobody replied for a while, i assumed that it was because they had seen what i had seen-- a racially insensitive message that totally ignores sokka’s indigenous heritage and the history behind indigenous hair-- so i decided to step in with what i thought was a balanced response.

SERVER MEMBER 2 then replied with a cheery “Fair enough! I will defer to your greater knowledge,” which i couldn’t tell was sarcastic or not, but i decided to be generous and to believe they were genuinely thankful for my reply, so i responded with a “you too can have great knowledge. i only know things because i read things. anyone can read things and learn,” which is something i firmly believe and also a way to divert the conversation away from SERVER MEMBER 2’s mistake, which i felt was the most dignified solution for them. i suppose this message could be read as aggressive because i didn’t use exclamation marks? but that feels unfair and ungenerous because i genuinely did not mean this message in a harsh way.

then SERVER MEMBER 3 jumped in and asked a few questions, which i read as a request for clarification, so i tried to continue to explain my point. it felt like SERVER MEMBER 3 wasn’t understanding what i was trying to explain, or at least i wasn’t able to articulate myself well enough, which was making me a little tired and stressy (and i was also thinking about my own race and queerness in stressful and triggering ways), so i decided to tap out of the conversation.

me: dude i love u and i respect u and i truly believe that u are trying very hard to understand, but this conversation is making me kinda heated

SERVER MEMBER 3: I’m gonna step back from it because it’s not my conversation to insert myself into, which is what I did initially and apologize for

me: i think it's so important to engage + ask questions & i appreciate that u respect my opinions on these things, but i think i'm just. i have said what i need to say and now must sleep. much love to all.

to me, this felt like me expressing that i was feeling tired and upset and leaving the conversation, while still attempting to reassure SERVER MEMBER 3 that i still admired him as a friend. i felt like the conversation had ended peacefully!

i hope this helps explain why MOD 3’s message came as such a surprise.

“the escalation to defensiveness and accusation regarding the original (relatively benign) statement was unnecessary and exaggerated. There’s an atmosphere of purity policing that’s been growing, which is why I took away the squick channel, as I assumed that a space that encouraged no repercussions was facilitating irresponsibility aggressive arguments. “

i truly didn’t believe i was being defensive. i was very careful not to accuse anyone of anything. in fact, i tried as far as i could to coat my language in “i” statements-- “i would personally not choose…”, “i would just. stay away from…” in order to avoid “accusations.” i was also trying very hard not to be aggressive, and i (and other poc that i have spoken to about this) believe that the idea that my messages were aggressive is racialized. just because a poc is upset about racism, it doesn’t mean they’re attacking you personally!

i feel so hurt that my messages were wilfully interpreted in this way, instead of being read generously and from a more compassionate perspective, especially since i voiced my own upset and discomfort during the conversation. it distresses me to think that me expressing negative emotions is seen as aggressive, rather than a cause for empathy or care, and i do believe that this is because of my race.

if a mod had asked me to take the messages to the DMs or to squick or even just let me know that someone was interpreting my messages as aggressive, i would have changed my behavior. (like i said earlier, i spend a HUGE amount of energy coddling white people on this server. i am very used to it.)

instead, i got the shock of 45 minutes after the fact, being publicly chastised and labeled as aggressive and being told that my conversation was “something nasty or unwanted.”

the idea that SERVER MEMBER 3 was de-escalating a “clearly escalating situation” feels untrue to me. i was ready to move on after i sent my message to SERVER MEMBER 2, but he kept engaging me on the subject! (no hate to SERVER MEMBER 3 on this.)

i think one of the most painful parts of this whole situation is the implication that i was attempting to “purity police,” as though i am a person who picks fights just because i want to feel good about picking fights?? or to act holier-than-thou???? i do not do this. if you have witnessed ANY interaction i’ve had with a racially insensitive white person on the server, you will know this.

i am simply a person of color trying to live my life. i do not want to fight about racism. i want to chill out and watch my cartoons. unfortunately, sometimes, someone will say something that i consider racially insensitive and i will do my best to engage and explain why i find this insensitive. that is all. (it is important to note that most of the time, when i see racially insensitive things on the server, i do not say anything because i am tired and it is a lot of effort to engage. i truly only engaged this time because nobody had replied to the message and i was just like, oh, fine, i guess i’ll educate, since no one else has!)

this whole incident has honestly made me really hurt and disrespected. i have enjoyed my time on the server and i have made some good friends there. however, it feels clearer and clearer to me that the server is a space where white feelings of safety (not being criticized for their racist content) are prioritized over poc’s feelings of safety (not having to witness and experience racist content). i sincerely considered myself to be an active and enthusiastic member of the server, maybe even friends with some of you, but it feels to me that all of our previous positive interactions have been displaced by this idea of me as an aggressive, overzealous purity cop who calls things racist for fun.

i don’t even know how to repair my relationship with the server after this because i really do feel horrible and sick about the whole thing. i have spoken to other poc who also expressed their concerns about the way the mods handled the situation, even if these other poc weren’t directly involved, and some of us are considering leaving the server, if we haven’t already. (i would also like to note that these people reached out to me, unprompted, to make sure i was doing okay after what they and i interpreted as a micro-aggression by the mods. like, we independently read the situation in this way.)

(also, not sure if this matters, but i talked to SERVER MEMBER 3 the morning after the incident because i wanted to make sure he was okay, and we both ended up apologizing to each other and having a really good and productive talk.)

thanks again for reading this. i hope that you’ll be able to better understand my perspective on what occurred. i truly appreciate the work that you put into the server (especially as someone who also puts work into the server lol), and i know it’s difficult to mod a large server (i also mod an atla server!), but i continue to feel hurt about this. i know it’s hard to read tone over server messages, but i really wish that my (and SERVER MEMBER 4′s and SERVER MEMBER 5′s ) server messages had been read with greater compassion.

...

and that’s all folks! i’m going to be remaking my blog soon, partially because this whole experience has exhausted me and partially because i have been meaning to anonymize my internet presence for some time.

#felix.txt

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werevulvi · 3 years

Text

I'm starting to slowly understand that this de-transition I'm doing will probably always be pretty rough on me. I'm re-watching "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" for the millionth time. I guess, for being about a hyper-feminine, conventionally attractive girl, it's pretty empowering. And Giles is definitely my favourite, British dork. Buffy is empowering because she really doesn't need anyone to help her out, except when she wants help. She's the furthest thing from a helpless damsel in distress, but she's also vulnerable and in many ways, like any other teenage girl.

I guess I can relate to that, on the level of depths I rarely swim in. Except in reverse. Like I look really masculine, male, and very different from other women, but on the inside I'm still vulnerable, and understanding the world from having been socialised female, like I guess most women are, to various degrees. And I guess I'm holding onto that. Sometimes too much. Sometimes... even to my detriment.

But when your womanhood is almost literally hanging by a thread, and you treasure it... it's easy to clutch too damn hard at it, as if your life somehow depended on that grip. And I guess that's how Buffy got me thinking, really a lot. Thoughts that have been passing through my mind for a while now, finally stuck around long enough for me to grasp.

It feels like there's just no ideal solution for me. I'm still generally at a pretty good place with my gender and presentation now. There's nothing I really wanna change, except from going back on testosterone. But how satisfied am I really? That's the difficult question. I get these moments here and there, when I get... you know, sad. I guess I get jealous of women who still look like women. Like Buffy, and all those other female characters that I relate to (all three of them, lol.) Their ability to blend into society as one of the females. That which I once used to take for granted, and barely even was aware of, and did not even like.

As a teen and throughout most of my 20's, I didn't like the idea of "blending in" or looking "normal" as I saw that as equal to disappearing and becoming insignificant. I liked standing out, to look like a someone, instead of a no one. But for the past couple of years? Not so much. I don't have that same mindset anymore. Now I understand that when people don't pay attention to what I look like... they finally notice my personality. And I really like that. I feel no need to have an alternative style for the sake of expressing myself anymore, although I'm still drawn to tattoos and piercings. If anything, it rather hinders people from truly listening to me, because they're too busy judging my appearance!

Whether I stand out now or not, well... I do have kind of a choice over. Just not so much in my favour. Or well, it is, but at the same time not. I can blend in among men as a "normal" looking guy, which takes no effort and has become my go-to, but I can never do that as a woman. I mean, I'm not just recognised as a woman who is ugly or looks weird, or "too" masculine. I'm not recognised as a woman at all.

And yeah, sure, I'm fine with that. Not a big deal.

But sometimes I still mourn the loss of my ability to be seen as a woman, and not look like trash while doing it. Sometimes... I can't help but struggling to look at myself. It just gets so raw sometimes, and I feel ugly. Society's beauty standards still has a certain choke hold on me. I can't break free from that over night. Especially since I was a makeup addict for a really long time and only just recently stopped wearing makeup altogether. Especially since I struggled with an eating disorder, which I only just recovered from a few years ago. Especially since I previously used sex with men as a way to seek value and worth, but found the opposite, yet still crave that harmful lifestyle. I'm barely a stone's throw away from being the slave of femininity I once was. Perhaps transitioning was my unconscious way of attempting to break free from it. Yes, I think there could be some truth to that. I revel in my masculinity now, but the wounds femininity caused in me, still hurt. It took me about this long to even understand their existence.

My mind still makes these connections, that by "woman standards" I look... absolutely hideous. Bearded, balding, scars for tits, hair all over my body. Yeah, great. I feel disfigured. Like some kind of abomination. I'm just gonna have to live with that knowledge, and what it does to me.

Because sometimes I get lost in what I think other people must think I look like, as soon as I tell them I'm actually a woman. I've gotten looks of disgust from that, and I guess I just haven't quite figured out how to handle that sorta thing yet.

I know that every time I've tried to "present as female" again, I've regretted it and felt absolutely horrible. On one hand it's tragic, because societal beauty standards still make me break down over my appearance sometimes, in desperate attempts to make myself look beautiful again... and that's when I feel the claws of femininity scratching me up from within, all over again. That endless chase for unobtainable, so called "beauty" and the failure that's bound to follow. And I guess it's a little bit sad, that I think I look a lot hotter as a man, than I ever even could as a girl or woman, and that could be part of why I hold onto my male-like appearance as a comfort in my newfound masculinity.

But is that so bad?

This harsh weather of self-discovery demands a comfort blanket. But on the other hand, most days I actually feel great about the way I look, and I can even manage to still feel good about the way I look when I see myself as a woman. That is great progress!

I'm actually starting to be able to connect my womanhood with my masculinity, and when I do, I feel great. That's my "good days" and I have a lot more of them than those "bad days" when I feel disfigured. Because that feeling is relative, not objective. It's relative, not only to social gender norms for men and women respectively, but also to my own inner norms of my own gender, which are highly influenced by the norms of the society I live and grew up in. And I've noticed I actually have the power to adjust that broken compass within me that struggles to connect my appearance with my mind.

I think my dysphoria broke quite badly, when I started poking around in it. I mean, not only do I get envious of other women (who have not transitioned) but as soon as I present as female, I instead get jealous of men again, and feel even worse about the way I look! It's a catch 22!

I do not know what my tired, dysphoric heart craves, or if any physical change would really help me feel better. I still regret my top surgery, but no kinds of reconstructed boobs would be able to fill that empty void. Because it's not nearly as much physical as it is psychological. It's missing and grieving something very specific, which cannot ever return. And that too... I just have to live with.

However, I'm again trying out wearing fake boobs. Small sock tits in sports bras. As often as my deformed ribs can handle. It quickly gets very painful in the dents I caused by binding pre-op. I ordered some oversized sports bras and gel insertions, that I'm impatiently waiting for to arrive! In the mean time I try to make do with what I have, which is too small and too tight, but for an hour here and there, is alright. I feel good with the illusion of small boobs, something like barely a B-cup at most. It feels more like my body when it's not board flat, and it makes me feel better about being curvy as well. Otherwise I still wear the same men's clothes I'd usually wear. Flannels, jeans, hoodies, suits, etc. That's perfect. It feels a lot like me.

I really should have left my chest be. But I didn't. And that's okay. I'll manage.

I reach out to testosterone again for comfort. Familiar comfort that always made me feel better, and badass. I know it won't take my pain away. But honestly, that's okay. I actually want to keep my pain, anyway. Because it helps me heal and feel stronger again. I don't like being in pain, but I feel like it's rebuilding me, strengthening me from within, and forces me to re-think what's not working. Pain is my guide to comfort. That fire in my ass that keeps me moving.

So yeah, I'll live.

I'll keep breaking down sometimes, and feel like I made myself into the ugliest woman on Earth, but even that, I can draw some kinda power from. Being proudly ugly is definitely something I can do! And then I feel untouchable. When I remind myself that my "ugliness" is not only entirely subjective, but also... entirely deliberate. That I choose to not try to salvage my thinning head hair, because I do not need it. That I choose to let my beard grow out, because it brings me comfort. That I choose to keep my chest flat, despite all my difficult feelings I have about it, because it allows me to go topless and braless. And so on.

My deliberate ugliness, worn with pride and survival... I'd say is quite beautiful. That's what keeps me going. Dated: January 7th, 2021.

#detransition #femininity #gnc female #transition regrets #ugliness and beauty #female masculinity #gender dysphoria #deep thoughts #reflecting on my gender struggles #ok to rb #i try to add the date to all my posts now #because how else will anyone know in the future when it was posted

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babysizedfics · 4 years

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do you think you can talk about what age dreaming is?

Of course! I go through what age regression is first as you need to understand that to get to age dreaming!

I am speaking from what I learned from the agedre and agere community, plus from knowing a fee people who fall into either or both groups, and also from researching age regression online as well as with my previous therapist!

...

First let's recap what age regression is. According to healthline:

Age regression occurs when someone reverts to a younger state of mind. This retreat may be only a few years younger than the person’s physical age. It could also be much younger, into early childhood or even infancy.

People who practice age regression may begin showing juvenile behaviors like thumb-sucking or whining. Others may refuse to engage in adult conversations and handle issues they’re facing. (x)

Age regression, by definition, involves a completely encompassing mental shift. In regression, your brain almost rewinds to an earlier state and struggles (or more rarely is wholly unable) to draw upon memories and knowledge from more recent years. The mental state is incredibly visceral and convinces the person that they are indeed the age that their mind has reverted to. For example, if there was a 25 year old regressor who had regressed to the mental state of a 5 year old, when asked how old they are they would say they were 5 years old.

Age regression can occur as a symptom of a personality disorder, though it can also be a defence mechanism that the brain employs as a response to extreme distress and trauma, both physical and emotional. How I explain it is that your mind struggles to cope with a traumatic situation (such as being exposed to an intense fear or being attacked or maybe a high level of anxiety) because the emotions caused by it are so complex and distressing. As a way to cope, your mind reverts to a younger state as at the age it has shifted to, you would not have felt such complex emotions. It is also an attempt to make you feel safe and comforted, as hopefully most people were supposed to feel at that age.

Note that it is also possible that your mind reverts to a the specific age that you did experience trauma. This is often a subconscious attempt to understand the situation better, though is understandably distressing as it can cause flashbacks and distress. This is what is colloquially known as impure age regression, purely on account of how uosetting it can be. Age regression also does not need to be triggered by trauma or distress, it can be triggered by anything, it is all dependant on the individual. Sometimes I myself regress from extreme happiness!

So age regression is a full mental shift, it is often involuntary though can voluntarily be triggered.

Age dreaming is a branch off from age regression. It likewise involves acting younger than you really are, though unlike age regression it is not as a result of a mental shift. It is as a result of a conscious decision on the age dreamer's behalf to act younger. Due to this very nature, age dreaming is always voluntary.

If you asked a 25 year old age dreamer how old they are when they are acting like a 5 year old, internally they would be very aware that they are 25 years old. Though they may reply 5 years old as a way to encourage their own behaviour. It is not a full mental shift for them, but they can 'get into character' and try to convince themself of it if they wanted. Still, it is a conscious and aware state.

There are many reasons someone may choose to voluntarily be 'little' - it could be as a way to cope with trama and distress, it could be as a way to cope with ordinary life stressors (letting go of adult responsibilities for a while) or it could simply be as a way to relax and have fun! Nostalgia plays a big part in the littlespaces of the age dreamers that I have known, though everyone is different and you cannot make a group assumption from a few examples.

My friend Duckie @duckies-little-pond described it quite succinctly as:

Age regression is behaving like a child with a child's thoughts.

Age dreaming is behaving like a child with an adult's thoughts.

Though it is also important to note that age dreaming and age regression do not have an age limit. You can be a 13 year old age dreamer who acts like a 4 year old. You can be a 45 year old age regressor who behaves like a 13 year old. There is no limit to the variations, and it does not have to be a big age gap. I started regressing at 7 years old to the mental state of a 1 year old.

For age dreamers, it is completely up to them how they want to act - and it does not have to be a certain age group either, for example Roman in my fic does not fuss over labelling his age range, he simply acts however childish he would like to act depending on the situation. Age regressors do not have a choice what age they regress to as we have previously established that it is involuntary. Usually their regression can be defined by developmental stages and thus have an age or age range, though the regressor themselves may struggle to label it on account of not being fully aware of their behaviour. For example Virgil in my fic thought he reverted to the mental state of a 4 year old because he had memory gaps when he regressed, when in fact it is more like 3-18 months.

It is also essential to understand that age regression and age dreaming are both completely non-sexual without room for debate. In age regression, due to being in a literal child's headspace, the regressor is legally unable to give consent. Age dreamers are not in that unaware headspace, however the sexual variation of behaving younger than you are for k!nk purposes already has a name: age-play. They are two separate things.

I hope that I explained this well, I'm not confident I covered everything but I will leave it here as it is getting quite long. Please please feel free to ask any follow up questions and I will do my best to answer them well!

#little/big advice #asks #anon #age regression #age dreaming

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flutteringphalanges · 3 years

Photo

Summary: It is public knowledge that Zoe Van Helsing is the last of her blood line. Not to mention that, in a sense, Count Dracula is too. However, after an unexpected night of passion, both their lives dramatically change when Zoe becomes pregnant. Two unconventional parents, one extraordinary pregnancy. What could go wrong?

Rating: M

Pairings: Zoe Van Helsing/Dracula implied Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Love you all! -Jen

Chapter Eight

It was the blaring of a car horn that brought Zoe back to reality. Her head was spinning as she blinked wearily around, trying to gauge her surroundings. The events that led to this moment had yet to resurface as she realized that she was oddly strapped into the backseat of someone’s car. Trying to sit up, the doctor squinted at the tall figure who sat almost hunched in the driver’s seat. It was dark and the heat was blasting at an ungodly, uncomfortably high level. Where was she and what the hell was going on?

“La naiba!” The familiar voice hissed, hitting the steering wheel hard. “Ticăloși englezi!”

Zoe’s brows knitted together as she eyed what was causing such a fuss. The red glow of a light. A stop light. They were stuck in traffic. Fighting her dizziness, she managed to prop herself up on one of her elbows. When the back seat creaked in response, the man suddenly whipped his head around. Dracula. He frowned deeply, his expression almost frightening. Try as she might, the doctor couldn’t discern the vampire’s current emotion. Whatever the case, he was less than thrilled.

“Stop moving and just stay still.” He finally spoke authoritatively. “We’ll be at the hospital in just a few minutes if all of these damn cars get out of the way!” He slammed his fist against the wheel and Zoe could almost swore she heard something crack. “Lay back down.”

“Hospital?” She mumbled, brows knitting in confusion as she tried to piece together what happened. When she suddenly remembered, her stomach sunk. The pain was indeed gone, but she felt nothing. Was she supposed to feel something? “I fainted…”

“You’ve been out cold for over five minutes.” Dracula replied, faint anxiety lacing his tone. “I didn’t trust the emergency medical services to get to the Foundation fast enough. It seemed only fitting I do so myself.” When the light turned green, the vampire hit the pedal hard causing the car to lurch. “What happened?! Are you in any pain?! I don’t smell blood. But I’m not writing anything off simply because of that.”

Being bombarded with the man’s questions only aided in her growing headache. Not to mention she wasn’t fond of his probable “well intended” kidnapping. She placed a hand on her stomach and focused hard. How she wished they were big enough to where she could be put at ease feeling them move. But he smelled no blood and she didn’t feel wet. Weren’t those obvious signs of miscarriage? If she had only experienced pain, maybe…

“I feel fine.” She managed to muster out a reply. Surprised by how weary her voice sounded. “Just...out of it.”

“Evidently.” Dracula muttered, rolling his eyes. “Were you feeling ill at all today? Did something happen at your oncology appointment? I knew I should have had Frank gather intel--”

“Intel?!” Zoe said, her voice suddenly gaining volume. “How...you’re having your dotting lawyer follow my every move now?!” She attempted to sit up, but the motion made her nauseated. “You and I have an agreement, but that doesn’t extend to you spying on my every move!”

“Technically, you’re keeping tabs on me.” The vampire shrugged. “And I’m only concerned in the well being of yo…” He paused, lips pressing into a firm line. “I’m just taking an interest in the safety of my children and their development.”

“Oh, I assure you.” Zoe snapped as they pulled into the mostly empty parking lot. “When it comes to them, I take everything into account!”

“Well if that were the case, maybe we wouldn’t be here.” Dracula said coldly, taking a parking space close to the building. “Stay here while I get you a wheelchair. Try to walk, and I’ll carry you inside. Your choice.”

The doctor’s jaw dropped as the Count stepped out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut. Unbuckling herself, Zoe’s eyes watched as the glare from the street lights lit up his figure as he walked towards the hospital. Even though she knew it was him, it still was a little eerie. His size was intimidating. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if the babies would inherit that. That was, if they were still okay to begin with.

“At least you came to your senses and decided to wait.”

Zoe jumped in surprise at the sound of Dracula’s voice. Apparently, her mind had wandered far enough to where she hadn’t even realized his return. Reluctantly, she allowed him to help her into the wheelchair. Perhaps in any other circumstance, this display of obedience would’ve amused the Count. Yet right now, he felt anything but.

“If you’re not going to let me get up, at least take my license and insurance card to the front desk and sign me in.” The scientist frowned from their position in the lobby. “And don’t threaten anyone to get me seen faster. If you get kicked out, I’m not going to argue your case to get you back in.”

“No one could remove me from the premises if they tried.” And for the first time since she awoke, a flicker of a smirk crossed his features. “Public places don’t require invitations.”

“That’s a real pity.” She snorted, folding her arms over her chest. “I would’ve liked to see what would happen if they did. Would you burst into flames if you weren’t fast enough? Fly backwards…?”

Dracula gave her a lopsided sneer before taking a hold of her identification cards. Zoe watched him from afar, her hands now resting on her stomach. The longer she sat there in the clinic, the more concerned she began to grow. Before she had tried to push the worry aside, but now it felt real. She sucked in a breath as Dracula approached, her cards in one hand and a hospital bracelet in another.

“Hold out your wrist.” The vampire said, undoing the sticky side of the band. “They’re going to bring you back in a minute.” When Zoe opened her mouth, Dracula rolled his eyes. “I didn’t threaten them. Based on your medical history and symptoms, they want to get you checked out sooner rather than later. And,” he added lightheartedly. “It just happens to be a slow night. Just our luck.”

“Right…” She pursed her lips. “Luck.”

There was something unsettling being in the emergency ward at night. As she was strapped up to machines, an IV placed into her arm, Zoe found herself staring up at the ceiling trying to count the many tiny holes in the tiles. She could feel Dracula watching her from his seat. But much to her relief, he didn’t say anything. When the doctor entered the room--not her usual one, accompanied by a very tired looking resident luggy an ultrasound machine, they both perked up.

“Dr. Sahli.” The man smiled, reaching out to shake both of their hands. “I hear you had some concerns about your pregnancy?”

“Yes.” Dracula cut in before Zoe could. “There was an incident at work. She fainted for a few minutes.” His eyes flickered onto the scientist. “I thought it best we come here due to the circumstances.”

“I see.” The doctor nodded, beginning to set up the equipment. “I’ve pulled up your file, Dr. Van Helsing. I think you made a good call coming in.” He muttered something to the resident that Zoe couldn’t pick up. “Any other symptoms besides the fainting?”

“Just sharp pain.” Zoe admitted, inhaling as her abdomen was exposed. “That’s gone away, but the dizziness is still there.” She stiffened as the gel was squeezed onto her stomach, eyes unable to meet Dracula’s. “Do you think...something could be wrong?”

“Let’s not try to get ahead of ourselves and worry.” The older man smiled, placing the probe against her skin. Carefully, he began to move it around until the most reassuring sound in the world filled Zoe’s ears. Heartbeats. “Just what I was looking for.”

The scientist watched in awe as the two little humanoid beings moved about on the screen. At times, she almost swore they were kicking each other. She yearned for the moment where she could feel the movements back. But there they were. Wiggling. Alive. Still blissfully unaware of the world outside.

“I don’t see any fetal distress and amniotic fluid levels look fine…” Dr. Sahli mumbled, panning across the monitor. “I’d say this was nothing more than a scare. But based on your high risk pregnancy, I’d like to run some tests and keep you overnight.” The man stated, setting the probe down. “Overexertion and dehydration could have some part in what happened. I just want to make sure everything is fit as a fiddle before sending you off.”

“Am I allowed to stay with her?” Dracula inquired, Zoe throwing him a glare. “I am the father.”

“I don’t see why not.” The innocent doctor smiled, not noticing the furious stare the expectant mother was giving the vampire. “I’ll let the nurses’ station know once we get Dr. Van Helsing settled.”

“Oh, and one more thing.” The Count said, causing both the doctor and resident to glance up. “Is it too much to request a room without windows? I have rather sensitive skin, a rare condition, and I think Zoe will rest better with less light anyway.” He gave a wide smile. “I’d much appreciate it.”

XXX

“I don’t want to be here.” Zoe grimaced from her hospital bed. “And I don’t like you being here.”

“You’ve expressed that several times now.” Dracula sighed, flipping the page of the magazine he was reading. Family Life. She recognized the title from her visits to the doctor. Cast aside on some table with the hopes that someone would pick it up for a peek. “But as I have clearly stated each time, I have no plans to go anywhere. I’m staying put.”

“I need to tell Jack what’s going on and let him know I won’t be in tomorrow.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “And somehow explain that you won’t be. Not to mention that somehow someone is going to have to bring my work to me.”

“You will be doing no such thing until you’re cleared by a professional.” The vampire replied coolly. “The doctor said you need to take things easy. While I find science positively fascinating, you scrutinizing over papers about lab work you can’t actually go in and physically see doesn’t excite me. You’ll only stress yourself further by fixating on what’s out of your hands.”

“Since when did you become a psychologist?” The scientist snorted, looking bemused at the vampire. “And a simple laptop would suffice for me to do what I need. I’d just need the proper clearance to gain access to the files and contact the laboratory for a digital copy of the test results…” The more that she thought about it, the further she realized how tedious this all was. “I just need my work computer. That’s all.”

Dracula stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes fixed on her face. Then, without a word, he picked his magazine back up and started flipping through it again. It was as if their previous argument had never occurred. In retaliation, Zoe beamed an empty, plastic cup in his general direction. Without even looking up, the vampire gracefully dodged her attack.

“I should have never told you I was pregnant in the first place.” She grumbled, glowering as he seemingly ignored her. “Then I wouldn’t have to put up with any of this.”

“I would have found out eventually.” The vampire shrugged, still focused on one of the colorful pages. “I have a way of discovering secrets. A talent if you will. You learn as much when it comes to yourself.” The corners of his lips twitched into a small smirk. “We all have skeletons in the closet, Dr. Van Helsing.”

“And yours are supposed to be released from their confines!” Zoe shot back. “We have a legal binding contract to work together, and I don’t like games.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Especially right now.”

“Your great, great aunt would be so disappointed.” The Count chuckled. “She was rather talented at chess...well, in her mind.”

The scientist stiffened at the mention of Agatha. In a way, she felt as if saying the name would summon a demon. Or a ghost to say the very least. Glancing around quickly to make sure they were still alone, she turned back just in time to notice Dracula eyeing her oddly.

“Are you alright?” He inquired, any reminences of mocking having left his tone. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Fine.” She answered curtly. “Just tired.”

“Then try to sleep.” Dracula suggested, setting the magazine aside. “There’s no telling when your lab results will come back and the time of your discharge. You might as well rest as well as you can.” He paused, before adding. “If anything, sleeping will make the time seem to go by faster.”

“Am I to assume you’re just going to sit there and watch me the whole time?” Zoe inquired, her tone unpleasant. “That is possibly the least relaxing thing you can do for me right now."

"You won't even know I'm here." The vampire assured her as he readjusted his position. "Besides, I think you'd prefer I stay here with you rather than roam the halls of this fine establishment." He gestured to the air. "Who knows what smells might capture my attention. Why, if I remember correctly, I do believe we are over an operating theater. Surgical procedures can be rather bloody…"

Zoe narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't dare."

Dracula gave her fake, sheepish grin. "...Well now, knowing what I can and can't do, I suppose there is no harm or foul taking a quick trip to the blood bank. Technically I wouldn't be harming anyone so there goes any concern for breaching my contract."

"I should've let them destroy the house with you in it when I had the chance." Zoe spoke, fingers digging into the thin fabric of the blanket. "Fine. Be that way if you really are so desperate."

"Oh, there is no desperation." Dracula said with a content smile over his victory. "Just...well intentions…"

"Bite me." The scientist grumbled, letting her head fall onto her pillow.

"Not something I would advise you to say to a vampire." Dracula chuckled, his attention now on a new magazine. "Goodnight, Zoe. Get some rest."

If it weren’t for the twins and today’s exhausting events, Zoe would’ve tried her hardest to retaliate against the Count’s insistence. But her body betrayed her. The tendrils of sleep wrapped around her in a vice like grip.

No longer could the good scientist fight it as she found herself pulled down into the deep, dark abyss of unconsciousness. So far gone that not even her dreams could reach her. A place lost to her mind. A place lost to her. Only uninterrupted slumber. Something she truly needed.

XXX

Uninterrupted. If one considered a few hours of shut eye that. Zoe awoke to the sound of two people quietly talking--which clearly wasn’t soft enough as it woke her up. Blinking back sleep, she made out Dracula standing in the doorway speaking to Dr. Sahli. The vampire’s expression was unusually serious, similar to that of someone trying to absorb a lot of information at once. She noted the file folder in the doctor’s hand, the papers waving inside whenever the man made a gesture.

“So everything came back normal?” Dracula asked slowly. “No abnormalities?”

“None.” The doctor reassured him. “We ran multiple tests. It isn’t the cancer or something else. Just as I explained earlier, I think that after ruling everything else out, we can safely assume that what happened to Dr. Van Helsing was as simple as dehydration and overexertion. Does her job have a tendency to be stressful?”

“Only when she makes it that way.” The vampire replied, rolling his eyes. “So they’re all healthy? Her and the twins?” Even though Zoe was pretending to be asleep, she could feel Dracula’s gaze on her. “These are unusual circumstances.” And he wasn’t referring to her cancer or other risk factors. “Both babies are well?”

“Perfectly fine.” The doctor smiled. “I took the liberty of taking a few extra tests just to confirm. One I noticed hadn’t been done on her files was NIPT--a noninvasive prenatal testing. Since she’s high risk, I wanted to just check a few things out…” He paused. “There were a few things I noticed though.”

Dracula frowned. “I thought you said everything was fine?”

“It is, it is.” The doctor said, gesturing with his hands. “Just some of their genetics...well, they were a little odd. But nothing that seemed amiss. I could do further testing, put in an order for her to have an amniocentesis procedure done in a few weeks. But that carries some risks. And while I didn’t go into depth, nothing I saw was linked to any known diseases or disorders.”

The vampire nodded his head thoughtfully, processing every word the man said. After hearing the doctor speak about the twins’ DNA, Zoe decided it was time that she woke up. Forcing a yawn, she propped herself up in the bed. Both men turned to face her, the doctor looking rather surprised while Dracula seemed unimpressed. Evidently she wasn’t as good at playing pretend as she thought.

“I’m sorry if we woke you, Dr. Van Helsing.” The doctor apologized. “I was just discussing with your husband--”

“We’re not married.” She interrupted quickly. “Anyway, if these are my results, I’d like to be the one to hear them first hand.”

“Right. My apologies.” The man nodded, moving over to her bedside. Like the leech he was, Dracula followed close behind. “I’m not sure how much you heard, but all your test results came back clean. I ran some extra labs and saw some unusual genetic...well, I’m not sure what you’d call it. But it doesn’t seem to be anything harmful. I offered to run more tests--”

“That won’t be necessary.” Zoe said curtly, eyeing the folder as if she planned to snatch it at any given moment. “But if I could have a copy of the file, I’d much appreciate it.”

If there was an oddity in her children’s genetics, it wasn’t anything any medical professional would know about. Vampire DNA hadn’t been written into any textbooks. Zoe wasn’t concerned about them having a condition from these unknown markers. No. She needed to know what she was dealing with. What they had apparently inherited from Dracula.

“I can have one made.” Dr. Sahli promised. “...There was one other thing I was able to take a look at if you had any interest?” Dracula and Zoe looked at each other before the doctor continued. “I was able to determine your twins’ gender.”

Zoe looked taken aback. “This early? I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Well, when I ran the NIPT, it allows you to determine the gender based on what DNA found in the bloodstream. Or rather, their DNA found in Dr. Van Helsing’s blood. It’s more complex than it sounds, but that’s besides the point.” He smiled at the two wholeheartedly. “Are you interested to hear?”

Dracula and Zoe looked at each other once again. For the first time, it almost seemed as if the vampire was waiting to hear her opinion. She was tired, but Zoe felt a sense of eagerness begin to bubble up in her stomach.

“I suppose if you have them.” She said after a moment.

Dr. Sahli grinned. “Then, in that case.” He glanced from one parent to the other. “I’m pleased to inform you that you’re expecting boys.” The doctor chuckled, shaking his head. “And identical ones at that. Quite a handful indeed.”

And then, like a tsunami, a new wave of emotion hit her.

Anxiety.

Identical twin boys.

Two babies with unidentifiable genetic traits gifted to them by their vampire father.

Oh God.

#Dracula 2020 #Dracula #BBC Dracula #Zoe Van Helsing #Zoe x Dracula #Gemini

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Small Secrets II

Characters: Childe, Kaeya, Ningguang, gn!reader

Word Count: 3.717

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: It’s not that you wanted to keep it a secret from your loved one. It was simply that old habits are hard to break. But now people are talking, and it seems easier to go one as before.

In which the reader can transform into an animal.

Author’s Note: Had to do a surprising amount of research for this one.

Childe

Perhaps it was a cruel joke on Fate’s part that you were able to turn into a penguin. If so no one else was laughing.

It’d been jarring the first time it’d happened, an accident of stress. After that first incident you’d figured you’d never transform again, at least not willingly. Who wanted to be a greasy, flightless bird anyways? That had been your opinion, and you hadn’t intended on changing it. Until you learned how to swim.

Perhaps it was another joke, that you should become so enamored with the gliding that penguins could do when they finally waddled their way off land. The nearly soundless plunge as you dove beneath the water, not having to worry about running out of air as you sped along the lake nearby your Snezhnayan village. It was as if being trapped in a little pocket of paradise, one which you’d grown to love.

At first you didn’t really consider the repercussions of being involved with Childe in regards to your expeditions to the sea. So wrapped up had you been in the question of his Harbinger status that by the time you realized you might have a problem it was too late to think up any sort of plan. Of course, the days in which Childe was gone you could swim, could even find refuge in those frigid waters. But when he was there it was like walking on eggshells as you found yourself torn between your desire to swim and your need to keep your secret.

It didn’t help that winter was ending. Though Snezhnaya could be bitterly cold in the winter, and though your village was often considered next to inhospitable in the winter, the summertime brought with it a heat that made swimming near unbearable in your oiled feathers. After all, penguins only lived in the most southern part of Teyvat.

It was a beautiful day, the afternoon that you finally broke. The temperatures had plummeted during the night before, and those you shivered as you made your way to the stony beach that was your usual takeoff spot, you felt yourself brimming with anticipation, the prospect of a long overdue swim lying in front of you.

You thought of Childe only once, as you shinnied down the craggy slope that led to the beach. He’d said that there was a Fatui meeting going on at the town inn, and though it was sure to be dull and irritating there was truly no way to escape it. You sympathized with Childe, understanding the difficulties in sitting still for two hours, trying o act as if you weren’t aching to be somewhere else, but secretly you thought the meeting a blessing in disguise. Using the pretense of the Guild being somewhat slow – the Adventurer’s Guild in Snezhnaya was somewhat disorganized due to Fatui competition – you claimed the need for a trek in the snow, holding off Childe’s ill hidden words of worry with the knowledge that you’d lived here longer than he had. You felt little regret, knowing that you’d lied to him. After all you’d been drilled to keep this a secret since the moment you were made aware of it. And as much as you loved Childe, that would never change.

You stumbled a bit in your mad dash to the little cavern which shielded you as you transformed. You’d tried directly transforming in water once, but having pressure almost destroy your lungs was something you weren’t excited to repeat. So instead, you waddled about the icy gravel, silently cursing your speed. You could never get used to how slow penguins were on land, nor could you understand how once you hit the ocean you could speed along faster than any human might.

The water was clear and cool, the icy shock dulled by the layers around you. It was interesting to see the lake in this manner, eyes suddenly unclouded by passing sand and debris. You swam along lazily, staying in the middle layer of the lake. Though you knew that you were going up for breath more than was really necessary, you were feeling surprisingly lazy, and diving to the bottom felt like too much effort.

The sudden pull of your body upwards caused a shriek to escape you. Thrashing about wildly you attempted to dive deeper, mind suddenly clouded by confusion and panic. A voice was calling out to you from above, but you made no effort to comprehend it, too focused on keeping in the sanctuary of the water. Though you knew that you’d swum in the opposite direct of the village, the possibility of being discovered by a human, for your captor was surely a human, was no less terrifying.

As you broke the water you felt like your heart had seized up in your throat, if that was even possible for a penguin. Whirling around this way and that you pulled desperately for the water, for the place you’d be able to outswim this intruder. Your brain registered the familiar clothing of the person holding onto you, and your horror both eased and multiplied as their voice sang through the air.

“Woah there buddy. Calm down!”

You ceased your movements for a second, brain somewhat stalling. Partner. You’d just been dragged out of the water by your partner. If you hadn’t been a bird you would’ve certainly started screaming, or at least asking Childe what the fuck he was thinking skipping the meeting for this.

“There you go.” Childe’s voice was soft and soothing, using a tone that you knew was reserved only for nightmares, injuries, and emotional distress. “It’s alright, it’s alright buddy. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. It’s not normal for penguins to be this far north you know. Besides the villagers have been calling you some sort of malevolent spirit and let me tell you, being harpooned isn’t very fun.”

Ruffling your feathers, you let out a squawk of indignancy, the idea that you’d actually get caught appalling. Childe just let out a laugh in return.

“I know, I know. No appreciation for the natural world. But that’s what it’s like in a village like this, insulated and unquestioning. You’re not the only one who’s suspicious; but let me tell you it’s better to be suspicious and free then stuck in the same place.” He let out a small sigh. “Even when our freedom comes at a price.”

You stared at him for a moment, taking in the soft sadness that radiated off the man you’d fallen in love with. Though a small piece of you felt pity, pity for the life Childe had been forced to live, the rest of you felt a melancholy sort of empathy, and in the center of that a kernel of trust. Childe’s words spoke to you, his status as an anomaly amidst the people who couldn’t understand the yearning to get away. Perhaps it would’ve been better if Childe was more content, staider, perhaps things would’ve been easier. Yet would you have fallen in love with that version of Childe? Would you feel as you did now?

Waddling towards solid ground, not trusting the large pieces of ice which bordered the lake, you closed your eyes. Immediately your form changed, your other self now shed like a second skin. Keeping your back turned away from Childe you stared at the snowy forest.

“You’re not the only one who feels trapped sometimes. I’m sorry that this village isn’t kind to you.”

“Oh the people are nice enough.” There was a wavering sort of humor in Childe’s voice, though you couldn’t tell if it was from shock or sadness.

“Still, I’m sorry. I realize that being here is stifling. Thank you, for visiting because of me.”

“Always.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

“We all have our secrets.”

“Still. I’m sorry.”

You felt the damp press of a coat against your back, warm breath tickling the back of your neck as Childe let out a small sigh. Leaning backwards you closed your eyes. For a moment there was no sound but the gentle lapping off waves, as snow floated down onto your heads.

“Hey, you don’t expect me to keep this secret free of charge do you.” The mischief had returned to Childe’s voice.

“What’s your price then, Mr. Penguin Catcher.”

“Sparring every day for two weeks.”

“… I think I’m going to go back into the water now.”

“Don’t you dare!”

Your laughs entwined as you raced away from Childe, filling the cold winter air with silent warmth.

Kaeya

“I swear to fucking Barbatos if you don’t open.”

You kicked the door of your apartment, the muffled clunk doing little to sooth your raw nerves. Stupid, how could you’ve have been so stupid? You knew that Kaeya was working late, you knew that you were going to have to remember your keys. So how did you get here then, standing on the outside while your key was resting safe on your nightstand? How had you still managed to forget?

“You know darling sometimes your too reliant on me.” Kaeya had told you one day, voice singsong with amusement. “One day you’ll forget your head on your shoulders. At the very least you shouldn’t expect me to always unlock the door for you.”

Well sorry you couldn’t see into the future. Groaning you slid down the side of your door, face planted firmly in your arms. You needed to get inside somehow. You weren’t about to prove Kaeya right, not now. You would get in if it was the last thing you do. Lifting your head up you closed your eyes in thought. The two of your were sharing an apartment on the third floor, one of the perks being a mini balcony for flower boxes, not that you ever actually put flowers in there. You always kept that window unlocked in the summer, and though it pushed out you were sure you might be able to open it.

Scurrying back down the stairs and into the back alley of the building you glanced around you. Thankfully there was no one in sight. Praying that your pack wouldn’t be stolen off the hallway floor you sighed softly, letting a soft grin cross your face as your vision shifted to that of a cat.

Thankfully the building was made both of wood and stone, or you never would’ve been able to make it. The climb was perilous however, in your mind if not in real life. The world was so much larger around you, and though being light and having four legs to land on would certainly be an asset, minimal injuries was not something you wanted to bet on. Reaching up towards the final beam you hoisted yourself up onto the flower box, giddy with triumph as you went to paw at the window handle.

Your paws slid off the golden substance as if they were coated in oil. Letting out a hiss of frustration you tried again, letting your claws protract. Unfortunately, the handle still refused to move, as your paws slid off the shiny metal. Shit. Turning around agitatedly you let out a yowl of protest. You were stuck, you were absolutely stuck. What were you going to do now? Getting up was one thing, getting down Unfortunately, another entirely. Nor could you revert here, besides the flowerbox being somewhat small you didn’t want to test the weight of the plank that served as your impromptu floor. So what could you do?

“What’re you doing here?” A familiar voice quieted the shrieks which you were emitting, as the fur on your body stood up. Slowly the window began to open, as a familiar face peered down at you, smirk as brilliant as usual. “Don’t you want to come in?”

Though a part of you suddenly thought that being stuck three stories above ground was a lovely prospect, you leapt through the window, landing on the dresser before hitting the ground. Though you wanted to make a run for it the door was closed, and you cursed Kaeya for his forethought.

“Are you going to tell me what you were doing so far up off the ground?” Kaeya knelt down beside you.

Even if I could do you think I’d tell you why? You let out a mewl, eyes narrowing as Childe let out a chuckle.

“Fair enough, but really it’s quite impressive. You must be one determined cat. Here.” Scooping you up Kaeya let out a quiet sort of laugh. “Let’s get you some milk.”

You stood on the kitchen floor, staring silently at the bowl that had been placed in front of you, wondering if cats also thought about having their meals placed where humans had just been walking.

“What, not your style?” Kaeya cocked his head.

He’d been surprisingly nonchalant about the whole debacle, perhaps spurred on by your own lack of reaction. It was still disarming, almost as much as the smirk that refused to leave his face. What in Teyvat could he possibly be thinking, was a cat stuck on a balcony that funny to your cavalry captain?

“Come now, you’ve got to drink a little bit at least. It must be awful exhausting to climb up a building.”

Still you made no move.

“Or do you make it a point not to eat in cat form, darling.”

“How did you know?!” You sputtered, transforming back immediately.

Kaeya let out a burst of laughter. Clutching his stomach he rocked back and forth on his feet, wheezing as the moment continued, laughing so hard no sound came from his mouth.

“It’s not very funny!”

“What do you mean, of course it’s funny!” Kaeya managed to get out, gasping wildly. “I can’t believe you got locked out and decided to scale the building.”

“What else could I do? Wait, no, first, how did you even know it was me?!”

“Ah yes because you would normally leave your belongings in the middle of the hallway. Come on darling, that wasn’t the smartest move you’ve ever made. Besides there have been rumors about a ghost cat prowling Mondstadt and as the Favonius Cavalry Captain, well you couldn’t expect me to just let these questions go unanswered!”

“How long have you known.”

“About a month.”

You groaned, turning around and face planting into the bed. How could you’ve have been so careless? Underestimating Kaeya was a mistake that many made, but you’d thought that you’d managed to catch up to your partner in terms of stealth.

“It’s alright darling, the embarrassment will wear off in an hour.”

“I just can’t believe I’ve been so reckless.”

“Hey, you’ve been very good at hiding this.” Kaeya ruffled your hair gently and you turned to look up at him. His smirk was gone, and instead there was a soft smile painting his lips. “I just know you.”

You hummed softly smile as Kaeya continued to card his fingers through your hair. Suddenly the whole ordeal was weighing on you, and you felt the familiar tendrils of sleep wash over you.

“You should get some rest.” Kaeya kissed your forehead gently. “It’s been a long day.”

“Kaeya.” You murmured.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

His voice was warm and full of care, guiding you softly to sleep.

Ningguang

You never meant to get stuck in a storm. You’d never meant to go crying to the nearest place you could call a sanctuary. Most of all, you’d never meant to reveal your secret to her.

The wind whipped around you, throwing you this way and that. You let out a sort of screech, mind blank with terror as you went spinning through the sky, finding it impossible to right yourself in the air. There was no sign of the beautiful clear sky that had dawned this morning; clouds blanketed your vision, dark underbellies a silent warning as pelting rain fell in waves, made even more painful by the gusts of wind that accompanied it. The familiar clap of thunder boomed, seeming to rattle in your bones as you continued to struggle to find shelter. Spying a familiar building you could practically hear your groan of relief. Swooping down you prayed that this would go alright.

One of the things that Ningguang had told you she loved most about the Jade Chamber was the view.

“It’s so bright up there, you look out the windows and there’s nothing but sky, sky and the land of Rex Lapis. It’s a beautiful sight, I hope to one day see it again.”

You were grateful for her affinity for windows now, using their familiar landmark as a landing spot. Clinging onto the wall you began desperately pecking at the window, squawking and crying as the storm picked up again, desperate for the sanctuary of your partner’s office.

“What is a raven doing outside?” The sotto voice of your love one filled the air.

Opening the window Ningguang said nothing as you flew in, landing on the chair you usually sat in. There was a faint struggle as the wind whipped through the open window, but eventually a faint click could be heard and Ningguang returned to the center of the room. Staring down curiously at you she tilted her head.

“I didn’t think that ravens flew down from the forests, especially during a storm. Perhaps then you’re a messenger from the adepti?”

“N–” you squawked, knowing that you surely sounded strangled. Even after years of transformation you could never get used to the switch between voice box and syrinx. It was as if you’d never learned to speak from the beginning.

“Poor dear, are you tired from your journey? I’m not sure what ravens drink, water I presume.”

Walking over to the corner Ningguang poured some water out of a pitcher onto a saucer. You drank gratefully when she returned, reminding yourself to tell her that normally ravens had to consume both water and salts. Having finished the little ritual, you tried once more.

“N…” still your words weren’t coming. You wanted to say something important, to explain your circumstances. Still you found you could say nothing. As if reading your frustration Ningguang stroked your beak, touch gentle and comforting despite your avian state.

“Poor thing, have you been wounded?”

You looked up at your partner, taking in the smile on her face. You’d gotten better at reading her, reading this woman who people whispered was too proud, too cutthroat, without emotion and without empathy. How stupid those people were. You could see it in her eyes, see the worry. You were a stranger to her, and unlucky raven; and yet she worried for you.

“Ningguang.” You finally got out, tripping backwards slightly at the twisted sound of your own voice. Ningguang stared at you, no less surprised.

“You know my name. Then you must be from the adepti. Has something happened?”

“Ningguang!” You let out one more time, dancing up and down the arm of the chair you were perched on.”

“Is there something that must be done?”

“Ning–”

You stopped, shaking yourself. This was getting nowhere. What was even the point of hiding it at this point? You knew the fears that swirled inside you, knew the fear that had been instilled in you. Don’t tell anyone, don’t let them know. Normal people, they’ll never be able to understand, they’re too afraid, too proud, too lacking in empathy. And yet you knew that wasn’t true, at least that it wasn’t true of Ningguang. Sighing you hopped down on the floor. A few feathers floated out of your hair as you faced your partner.

“My dearest!”

“I’m sorry for the surprise.”

“Think nothing of it. I hope you are not injured.”

Hurrying over to you Ningguang picked up your arms, turning them around as she examined them. Giggling slightly, you shook your head.

“I’m fine my love, really. Only a little shaken.”

“I don’t understand what you were doing, flying out in the storm. The recklessness, I cannot believe you would do such a thing.”

“Sorry, I was being stupid; I didn’t think that the rain would be that bad.”

“I am only glad that you managed to make your way here. If not, well I would not appreciate having my partner felled by a storm.”

“Yeah…”

“Well,” Ningguang planted a few light kisses over the bridge of your nose, “I hope that you will learn, and that we do not have to repeat this performance. Honestly, to think I thought you an emissary of the adepti; I was almost worried this storm was an unnatural one. Morax knows the last thing Liyue needs or can afford is another god rising from the depths.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, if you truly are then you can help me with this paperwork. There appears to be some confusion in terms of the chain of ore production, I believe someone might be skimming from the top.”

In a moment she’d reverted back to her calm and collected self, but you could feel the unsaid words in the air. I will not ask you about your ability. I will trust you to tell me in your own time. It was a comforting message and as you sat down you wondered at how considered the woman you loved truly was.

“It looks like it will be a cool night.” Ningguang smiled up at the sky. The clouds had cleared and the moon shone a silvery light on the once more bustling city.

“Thank the gods. It’s been so hot recently.”

“Indeed.” Ningguang pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You gave her a short kiss back, fingers entwined with hers. The storm had been terrifying, as had the moments after, the moments when you felt you had too much to say and nothing at all. The moments when you had no control.

And yet Ningguang had given you the gift of time, time and patience. One day you would tell her about your abilities, about the blessing, or perhaps the curse, you’d been given at birth. You knew that when that day came you wouldn’t have to worry. So, for now you simply walked home together, hands entwined, both content in the silence of trust.

#genshin impact fanfiction #childe x reader #kaeya x reader #ningguang x reader #childe #kaeya #ningguang #genshin impact #requested #scenarios #my writing

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bleufrost · 4 years

Text

Crawl Home to Her || A Ben Hanscom Series

Chapter Four: Not a Stranger

a/n: aaand we're back! let's see if I can get y'all back into this like im getting myself back into writing it (:

thank you all for being patient with me, if youre still here reading I love you so much.

masterlist

summary

rating: m for graphic depictions of violence, gore, and adult themes

The few feet between Ali and Ben feel like miles as her feet push her forward. Ali was refusing to bother with words, knowing exactly who this man was and how desperately she had waited for him all these years. His arms part instinctively, holding her to his chest as if it were the safest place in the universe and he was determined to protect her. Although years were spent apart, the feeling of being strangers was lost on both Ali and Ben; instead being replaced by the knowledge that they had not only grown up together, but had also been a saving grace for each other.

Ali’s breathing becomes unsteady as she feels Ben’s hand slide up to her neck. She isn’t afraid of him by any means, but the realization that somewhere in her life she forgot about him makes her uneasy; guilty in more ways than one. Tears spring to her eyes and a panic she has not felt since childhood comes upon her suddenly, causing Ben to pull back and look her over quickly in search of the cause of her distress.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I know I look different, but I swear I’m not a stranger.” Ben laughs nervously, trying to lighten the mood while also allowing her a moment to breathe. His hands never leave her, part of him unwilling in the event that she might slip away from him once more.

“I tried so hard for so long to remember you, but I never could. Ben, I forgot about you and I know that sounds awful but I swear I never meant to. You were always there, right at the edge of my mind, but I could never reach you. I’m so sorry.” Her voice shakes as she speaks and Ben has the overpowering need to hold her again and reassure her that everything was perfectly okay. So, that’s exactly what he does.

His thumbs brush across her cheeks, wiping away the tears that slipped past her eyes. “It’s not your fault, Ali. I’m sure Mike will explain everything, but from what I heard you aren’t the only one who’s had some missing pieces from their memory. It’s okay, we can catch up and everything will feel like we never spent a second apart.” Her breathing is still heavy, but a small smile finds its way upon her lips. He reciprocates and there is nothing he wants more than to kiss her in that moment, but he knows that he can't. She just admitted that she had forgotten everything for the longest time, throwing something like that on her now when she was just starting to get her life back was unfair and selfish. He had waited years, a little longer would be no problem at all.

“You ready to go in?” His voice was calm and patient, letting her know that she was allowed to take as much time as she needs. She was ready now though, something deep within her telling her that she could do anything now that the piece she was missing had been found. The pair begin to walk closer to the entrance, taking comfort in the close proximity of their bodies.

Standing right in front of the door was someone that they both had missed severely; even if Ali just now was remembering that she did. Ben reaches down, giving a reassuring squeeze to her hand and smiling toward the girl that had been his first official crush. “Is there a password or something?” Ali laughs beside him, Ben really was proving himself to be the master of throwing back phrases at people. It just further solidified what Ali already knew: they all meant something extraordinary to each other.

Recognition does not dawn on Beverly Marsh’s face as quickly as it did Ali’s. She turns and stares for a moment. “I’m sorry?” The wrapper crinkles in Ali’s hand as she tears it off and slowly pops the candy into her mouth. Beverly watches her and slowly, her face begins to change with a sense of recollection.

“New Kid?” His voice is hopeful as he says the nickname aloud for the first time in forever. The redhead’s eyes scan over Ali and Ben a little longer as the gears work in her head. “Ali? Ben?” Ali smiles excitedly and Ben lets out a relieved puff of air. While she nods her head, smile still beaming back at Beverly, Ben lifts his arm gently in an attempt to welcome Beverly into a hug. Bev comes forward, wrapping her arms around the both of them quickly and laughing.

“Oh my god!” The three stand there for a while, hugging in a way that feels familiar to each of them. Ali never enjoyed being touched by other people, she shied away from hugs and general contact because it always felt so wrong to her. This though, felt right. She felt comfortable for the first time in as far back as her still-hazy memory could go.

“it's been so long.” When Ben says this, it sounds less like a sad regret and more like a happy reassurance. It had been so long, but the wait was over at last.

"You guys look great!" Seperating, the trio find the source of the voice in the form of who could only be Richie Tozier. He looks down at himself and scoffs. “What the fuck happened to me?”

Once more, Ali finds herself closing the distance between herself and her old friend. Images flash before her eyes, showing her of a time when her and Richie would get into arguments, sometimes heated, that would always end in rolling eyes and smiles. He had kept her on her toes as a kid, but sometimes things like that only prove to strengthen the bond you have with someone.

Part of Ali was expecting to see someone else walk up with Richie; she doesn’t know why but the distinct recollection of his lovestruck face brings itself to the forefront of her mind and she is almost disappointed to find him alone.

“Hey Trashmouth!” They all laugh while Ali and Richie hug. The nickname definitely came easy to remember. “Are you fucking serious? I escape this shit for years just to come back and immediately get fucking ridiculed. That’s unreal, Ugly Duckling.” Ali pulls back from the hug and stares at him with shock on her face. Now that was a name she hadn’t heard in forever.

Ben almost intervenes, afraid that maybe Ali won’t receive the banter as such. It takes a moment, but the shock slowly slides into amusement. She shoves his shoulder and hugs him again; she really had missed them all.

The rest of them greet each other with warm smiles, Beverly and Ben also fall victim to Richie’s incessant need to say whatever’s on his mind, and soon it is time to go in.

With shaky hands, Ali follows the group to the entrance of the brightly lit restaurant. She falls behind a bit, trying to hide behind the rest of them as Richie continues to lighten the mood with his voice. It takes only a second for Ben to turn and notice how quiet she has gotten, and in that same second he halts his walking, waits for her to catch up, and falls into step alongside her.

Their shoulders bump as they walk and Ali finds the feeling of warmth radiating from his open palm to be immensely more inviting than the illuminated building. His knuckles graze hers gently, as though he is calling her toward him in a way. She takes the invitation as soon as he is willing to give it, slowly sliding her hand into his larger one.

Ben doesn’t look down when he feels her soft hand find his own. He simply takes it and wraps his fingers in hers, driving away the cold of her palm with the comforting heat of his body. The nervous trembling doesn’t stop, but it does subside and that is more than Ben could ever ask for.

Finally looking down, Ben catches the twinkling lights reflecting in Ali’s eyes. Smiling felt so foreign to him until today, and he feels his eyes come alight for what very well may be the thousandth time since arriving. Her own mouth curves up into the smallest of smiles as she notices him staring, and Ben can’t help but think it is the most beautiful sight he has ever seen.

Tags (ive been gone a while so i understand if youd like to be taken off, just message me): @stanley-barbs @bvrningdesires @floralpiper @thesmittenkitkat @daisysinadarkmedow @auggusst @isabellathedreamer @makbubblefandom @1988-fiend @alexther11 @goldenmoonbeam

let me know if you want to be added to the list!

a/n: as always, i greatly appreciate every read, like, reblog, and comment so much! feedback is always happily welcome and i hope you guys liked this chapter.

this is a side blog so i cant respond to comments (although i love to read them!!) but if yall ever wanna talk just shoot me an ask or message me! I love talking to yall <3

coming up...this meeting of the losers club has officially begun.

#ben hanscom x reader #it chapter 2 x reader #it chapter two x reader #it chapter two #it chapter one #it 2019 #it 2017 #ben hanscom #ben hanscom fanfic #richie tozier #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #Jay Ryan #jay ryan fanfic #bleufrost.fic #crawl home to her

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falling-feuilles · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1

CW/TW: Physical Abuse

1805 St Petersburg

The air outside was brisk and cool, not enough to warrant a thick coat, but enough to remind the citizens of the approaching winter. The daytime ambience of the party offered a sense of dissociation from reality, a distraction from the impending forces of Napoleon and his army. Despite the approach of such a powerful adversary, the usual fear and anxiety associated with such situations was missing from the faces of the guests. Most of the guests, that is. Two young women talked quietly in the corner, both around 20 years of age. The ladies were recognizable by those in society as the two daughters of Prince Karlov Meininov; Princess Elisabeta Bolkonskaya, the younger, and Princess Y/N Zhudova, the elder, by a year and a half.

“Sister,” began Y/N, “It will be alright, you’ll be with myself, Marya, and-”

“I know, I know, but… I worry for Andrei, N/N. You of all people know he hasn’t been himself as of late, even Pierre has-”

A small commotion interrupted the woman’s words, drawing the attention of the two, as well as the attention of the surrounding guests. A young man, no more than 20, argued with a small number of other, older men. Y/N sighed, knowing the likely cause for the debate. The man in question was Pierre Bezukhov, an old friend and stalwart companion. He was just over two and a half cubits tall, stout, and bespectacled. Lise gave her a knowing look, nudging her in his direction. She gave her sister a gentle pat on the arm, moving swiftly over to Pierre just as another man caught his attention.

“Pierre, old friend,” greeted the man.

“Andrei, it’s so good to see you here” he sighed. The two embraced, breaking apart, not aware of Y/N standing nearby, smiling softly at the two.

“Getting a taste of high society?”

“Yes, and making a fool of myself, as usual…”

Pierre turned, finally noticing the woman standing off to the side; he broke out into a wide grin, moving quickly to kiss her outstretched hand. Andrei did the same, greeting her with a small smile.

“How are you two enjoying the salon of our dearest Anna Pavlovna?” Y/N asked, smiling playfully.

Pierre chuckled, looking nervously around for the woman in question before continuing.

“She thinks me some sort of ill-mannered beast, but considering the conversation I just had she is not the only one.”

“Think nothing of it, I find it endearing.” He blushed, smiling a little, “But, you are right, you know,” she continued, seeing the confused looks on the men’s faces, “Russia is in need of a revolution of its own, although preferably one with fewer beheadings.”

Pierre smiled, making to continue before something caught his eye. That something being a beautiful, dark-haired woman in a Grecian dress; Helene Kuragina.

“She’s ravishing… No hope for me though. I see her every day and she hardly notices I’m there.”

Y/N sighed, looking upon the woman disdainfully. Helene was a cruel, snake of a woman; she had been immeasurably hateful towards Y/N in the past, calling her mother a “ruble-seeking gypsy of a woman” on more than one occasion. Y/N’s mother was a peasant girl of English descent who had fallen in love with a wealthy Prince, her father. They married in secret, but after Y/N’s grandparents discovered the union, they immediately broke it off, marrying him off to a wealthy Princess from the Capitol. Little did they know, Y/N’s mother was already with child and was forced to care for the child with no help from the Prince, who had no knowledge of his previous wife’s condition. When Y/N was 12 years old, her mother became ill with consumption and passed soon after. Before she died, she sent word to the girl’s father, begging him to take her in and care for her. Her father was more than happy to, welcoming his child with open arms.

“But your lovely wife? Is she well?” Pierre directed his and Y/N’s attention away from Helene, back to Andrei and each other.

“See for yourself,” Andrei gestured to where Lise stood, making small talk with a group of other women.

“She’s enchanting,” Y/N nodded, agreeing with Pierre.

“She brings happiness wherever she goes, you’re a lucky man Andrei, and my sister is lucky to have you.”

“You think?”

“I know, she cares for you deeply.”

After some time, and a number of enlightening conversations regarding the politics of modern Russia, Lise beckoned Y/N over, reminding her to be at her house at the appropriate time the following morning.

“Lise, I’ve already told you I’m attending Natasha Rostova’s name day ceremony tomorrow, I’ll arrive the day after you do.”

“Oh yes, my mistake. Wish her a happy name day for me.”

“I’ll be sure to.”

“Where are the two of you off to?” Pierre questioned, adjusting his spectacles. Y/N lifted her hand from his arm, moving to assist her sister down the stairs.

“Hasn’t he told you? He’s going off to the war and sending me away to the country to have my baby all alone. That’s the sort of husband I’ve got.”

“Are you really?” Questioned Pierre, turning to await Andrei’s answer.

“She won’t be alone,” he began, “She’ll be with my sister as well as her own.”

“But to have my baby in that bleak place, with people I hardly know?”

“Lise, we have been through all this, it’s for the best.” he continued, “Now, take the carriage home, the doctor said you should rest. We’ll walk with Pierre.”

Lise huffed, looking towards Pierre and her sister.

“You see? He treats me like a child.”

“Lise…”

“No, I don’t care if they hear. You have no pity for me; you were never like this before.” she stopped, noticing Andrei’s irritation, “You see? I don’t believe he loves me anymore.”

Y/N sighed, she could tell Andrei off and she knew he would listen to her; he had always valued her opinion very highly. Alas, they were in public, in front of a number of people. She decided against it, as there were reputations at risk; not that she herself had much of a reputation to maintain, it was more for the sake of Andrei and Lise.

Pierre tried, desperately, to comfort Lise, as was his nature. He quickly abandoned that attempt, realizing his inexperience and lack of tact would, undoubtedly, do nothing to ease her mind. Y/N could tell, however, that the attempt was appreciated by Lise, nonetheless.

“No, no, don’t. I’ll be good,” Lise chuckled, “I know Andrei wishes to speak with you. You won’t be too long?”

“No, my love.”

“Goodnight Pierre. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

Y/N moved forward, pressing a kiss to each of her sister’s cheeks before the two men began once again to walk down the final few stairs. Pierre offered Y/N his arm, her gloved hand resting upon the dark wool of his coat.

The trio walked along the street, passing beneath street lamps and small trees. The silence was comfortable, familiar. They crossed a small, cobbled bridge before any of them dared to speak.

“You’re really going to the war? You don’t think Napoleon’s the antichrist like the rest of them?” Pierre asked, looking to Andrei.

“It’s got nothing to do with Napoleon.”

“Then why, Andrei?” Y/N interjected, stopping to face him. Her face was calm and retained all the composure expected of a woman of her standing; save for her eyes. The E/C orbs were hard as iron, unafraid to stare him in the eye. Despite looking upon Andrei as a brother, her sister came first. Always. Lise had always been her first priority, since they had first met she was always responsible for her well-being, despite being older by a mere year and a half. In all honesty, she wasn’t angry at Andrei, as Lise was, or concerned for his safety, as Pierre was, although that was certainly a priority. Pierre stood beside her, looking at her face. He recognized the disappointment and confusion in her eyes. The three of them had been close long before Andrei and Lise had begun courting. It was an unconventional friendship, but it had lasted for far longer than any of them had expected.

Andrei took a moment before replying, formulating his words

“Because I can’t bear any more of this life. Drawing rooms, gossip, balls, vanity, night after night.”

Y/N continued walking, shaking her head. Her hand began to tremble lightly as it rested on Pierre’s wrist. At this slight shaking, Pierre looked down, noticing the movement and the distress palpable on her face. He rested his other hand on hers, gently squeezing it. She looked up at him, gratefully. Her body pressed closer to his, as though he was a rock, anchoring her in the sea of frustration and distress that was closing in around her.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s the truth,” he continued, swiveling to face Pierre, muttering under his breath, “Never marry, Pierre. Don’t make my mistake.”

Y/N turned to face him, face distorted in anger. Never had she expected that Andrei would say such a thing in front of her, Pierre clearly felt similarly. She lifted her hand gently from beneath Pierre’s, and promptly slapped Andrei across the face.

“You will NEVER refer to my sister as a mistake!”

Pierre was shocked, he had never seen Y/N this furious before. She had always been very well-mannered and calm, even when people insulted her heritage, choices, or her appearance, but this was nothing like he had seen from her before. Andrei lifted a hand to his face, cupping the now-reddening mark upon his cheek.

“Honestly Andrei, you don’t want to fight because you can’t bear any more of your life as it is, you want to fight because you can’t bear yourself any longer. You think no one loves you, or cares for you, or gives a damn about your well-being. We do! You are stuck in such a state of self-pity and self-hatred that you no longer recognize when people, your friends and wife for a start, are concerned for you. I just…” she paused, calming herself before continuing in a quiet voice,”You have so much Andrei… more than so many will ever have, and you’re willing to throw it all away for… for nothing.”

“Y/N, that’s not fair-” Pierre began, but she held up a hand.

“Life’s not fair, Pierre. You and I know better than most, it’s time he knows. Until then, I must take my leave.” She turned to leave, head held high despite the sadness in her eyes. Pierre grabbed her arm, she paused for a moment. Their eyes locked, solid E/C meeting deep brown. Pierre himself knew that life wasn’t easy. He was the bastard son of a Count, but he had been raised as close to a legitimate child as a natural son could be. Y/N, on the other hand, was raised in a poor town, by a woman whose only source of income after her father’s departure was the sale of her own body; while Pierre and Andrei wanted for nothing, she wanted for everything and it had showed.

He could see it in her eyes; the anger at Andrei’s willingness to abandon his family for a cause he didn’t believe him. The envy of his early life, and the ease with which he had lived it. And finally, the sadness that he couldn’t appreciate the life and opportunities he had been given. He released her arm, allowing her to walk away.

She reached the end of the street, making her way back to the salon to retrieve her carriage. Her feet travelled the familiar streets, easily carrying her back to the event, which was winding down. Guests wandered steadily out, the women escorted by the men into their carriages. Y/N made her way through the crowd alone, searching for the familiar carriage she had arrived in.

A hand on her back distracted her from this pursuit, causing her shoulders to clench as she whirled around. A man stood behind her, tall and dark. Y/N recognized him as Prince Anatole Kuragin, standing beside him was his father, Prince Vassily Kuragin. She curtsied, offering up her hand as was customary. Both men took it, the younger Prince lingering far longer than she would’ve liked.

“Princess Y/N, you look as lovely as ever. I have been trying to get into contact with your father in the hopes that we, meaning my son and I, could visit with you and your father. Unfortunately, he hasn’t returned my letters.” He paused, allowing her the chance to respond.

“As much as I appreciate your interest in the lives of myself and of my father, we don’t often receive guests; much less guests who we haven’t personally invited. If my father was interested in meeting with you, he would have done so already. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am rather tired and would like to return home, have a lovely evening gentlemen.” She moved back to her carriage, noticing her driver standing near it, waiting to assist her.

“Dear Princess-” started Anatole, only to be cut off by his father.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t be able to squeeze us into your busy schedule? We are rather eager to visit.” she sighed, turning back to face

“Prince Vassily, forgive me, but even if I was available, I can assure you neither my father nor myself are interested in whatever proposal you may have for either of us. Good day.”

This time, she was allowed to walk uninterrupted back to her carriage, stepping in with the help of her driver.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“Yes, Sergei, I am. Thank you for your concern.”

As soon as the door was shut, she placed her head in her hands. She undid the pins keeping her plaits in place, allowing them to fall past her shoulders to her lower back. As she slowly unravelled the braids, her mind began to wander; back to the argument. Had she overreacted? Probably. Had she ruined her friendship with the two men? Most likely. But, was she right? Most definitely.

She resolved to draft two letters when she returned home, addressed to Andrei and Pierre. As she neared the gates of her house, she noticed the lamps were lit in the Western-most Room of the building. Father was still awake, despite the late hour. After exiting the carriage, she began to hear the distant melody of a piano. As she approached the double doors, she recognized the familiar tune of Dussek’s Piano Sonata No.18, Op. 44. It had been a long while since she’d heard her Father play the piano.

Her Father suffered from not only the early onset of the memory loss and confusion associated with old age, but also a failing heart. Thus, he had lost much of his knowledge and ability to read music, but was physically unable to do much else. Her Father had always valued music very highly, considering it a necessary part of a child’s education. Following this ideal, he had enrolled both Lise and Y/N in piano lessons, as well as the flute and the violin, respectively. While Lise was competent at playing the flute, Y/N was considered by many to be a very talented violinist, even at a young age. This was one of her few talents deemed recognizable and praiseworthy by the upper members of society.

She entered the doors, quickly hanging her cloak and heading into the parlor. Her ailing father sat on the bench, arthritic fingers moving across the keys to the best of his ability. The sheet music in front of him was haphazardly placed on the stand in front of him, distracting him from her presence. She looked around for her violin case, noticing it sitting, open, on the sofa.

The sound of the violin was a frequent one in the Meininov household, and a welcome one at that. Very rarely, however, was it accompanied by another instrument. This was one of those rare times. While there was no true accompaniment to the piece being played, Y/N certainly made it sound like there was. Her movements were sure and precise, easily providing a more prominent melody to the piece.

This continued for the next couple minutes, until her Father, while turning the sheet music, knocked the papers onto the ground. He did not seem to recognize that fact and continued playing, if one could call it that. His piece of the music became more and more discordant; his memory of the piece having faded as quickly and abruptly as it had fallen on the floor. Y/N set her violin down quickly, moving to restrain her Father. At this rate, he was going to damage his fingers and the piano. He became still, opting to grab her wrist in his hand and stare at her, showing no recognition in his face. While the pressure started out light, it quickly became unbearable.

“Father, you’re hurting my arm… Father, let go…” she let out a hiss of pain, feeling his iron grip continue to grow tighter. “Alexei! Mikhail!”

The two men came into the room, noticing her struggling in his grip. They moved forward and grabbed his arm, attempting to pry his fingers off her. After a minute of this struggle, he calmed down, released her, and walked out of the room as if nothing had happened. Y/N cradled her arm to her chest, noticing the mark already beginning to bloom red beneath her skin.

“Are you alright, mistress?” asked Alexei, moving to her side.

“Yes, yes,” she pulled her sleeve over the marks, “Thank you for your help.”

They nodded, leaving the room. She could hear whispers emanating from behind the doors they had left from. As her footsteps drew near the door, the whispers stopped and hurried feet moved quietly away from the doors, back to their respective positions within the household.

When she reached her chambers, a young woman was waiting inside to help her prepare for bed. She made to dismiss her, but the maid, a girl named Alexandra, approached her, taking her hand gently. She pushed up the sleeve of Y/N’s dress, exposing the injury. Despite being newly made, it was already painfully red and extremely tender to the touch. Alexandra led her over to the pair of chairs residing in the corner of the room.

“What are you-?” Y/N began, but a sharp pain in her arm cut her off. She grimaced, looking to where Alexandra was carefully prodding the bruise, feeling the area around the mark.

“I think you might have sprained it, my lady,” she answered quietly, tucking her hand into the pocket of her apron, drawing out a roll of clean cotton. The two sat in silence while Alexandra deftly wrapped the bandages around the bruise, obscuring it from sight. After tucking the end of the bandage into itself, finishing the task with ease.

Y/N lifted her newly wrapped appendage to her face, noticing the skill with which it was bound.

“Who taught you medicine?”

“My mother, she was a nurse before… before she got sick.”

“I see; is that why you came to work in our household?”

“Yes she has been suffering from consumption for the past few months and we don’t-” she hesitated, voice breaking. After a moment, she continued. “We don’t have the money for her medicine so my sisters and I had to find work.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, where is she being treated?”

“At our aunt’s house, she was a nurse too, but we can only do so much without the proper medication.”

Y/N nodded, moving quickly over to the desk seated in the adjacent corner. She withdrew from one of its drawers, a sheet of paper and a small box. The box contained a quill and an inkpot, as well as a wax imprint with which to seal letters. She quickly drafted a note to her family’s doctor, instructing him to provide all necessary medications and assistance to Alexandra’s mother, and to charge all costs to her personal account.

After a few short minutes, Alexandra was given the letter, now sealed and addressed to the physician. The girl examined the letter, clearly struggling with the words on the outside.

“Can you read?”

“I… no, I can’t.”

“This letter is addressed to my physician. I’ve instructed him to provide your mother with the necessary medical care. I’ll inform the carriage driver to bring you there tomorrow morning.”

“But, I can’t afford it, we-”

“You won’t be paying, he will be charging it to my account.”

Tears brimmed at the edge of her eyes, threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

“Thank you so much, you’ve no idea how grateful I am,” she placed her arms around Y/N, hugging her tightly. She smiled softly, patting Alexandra’s back gently.

“Now,” she released the girl, wiping the tears from her face, “Run along, you should be getting to bed soon.”

Alexandra nodded, holding the letter close to her heart as she left, closing the door behind her.

Y/N brought her hand closer to her face, tracing the bandage with the tip of her finger; writing the letter had been painful, far more than she would have imagined. So, her apologies would have to wait for the time being.

A/N: If you find any spelling mistakes, please message me the part, chapter, and sentence. I’ll do my best to fix it, thank you!

#war and peace #bbc war and peace #pierre bezukhov

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overobsessivewhumper · 4 years

Text

Mutt’s hospital visit

Ahhhh... Finally i got to writing! This took too long! Not one of my best works, but hey... This is extra bad, because my knowledge of hospitals and medicine are very limited

Content warning: hospital, broken ribs, mention of other injuries, modern slavery, past abuse

Tag list: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @burtlederp @im-not-rare-im-rarr @comfortforthepain @18-toe-beans @haro-whumps @deluxewhump @kungpao-giffy @draganies @spiffythespook @whump-chains @projectstripe

Gavin should have noticed sooner. It was so obvious. Any other person would have noticed. Everything was pointing to it. The coughing, Caleb’s shallow and careful breathing, the way he occasionally clutched his side in pain when he thought Gavin wasn’t paying attention to him. But Gavin didn’t notice, did he? Not until he finally came around to asking Caleb to show him what’s wrong and saw the very unnatural shift of rib bones along his right side.

And Gavin’s ignorance is precisely the reason he’s currently driving as fast as he dares, heart rate going a whole lot faster then it probably should in a healthy human, whilst Caleb sits on the passenger seat, looking equal parts absolutely terrified and confused. Gavin should have noticed sooner. Caleb could have died of internal bleeding! Hell, he could be dying right now!

“Just… Just hang in there Caleb. It’s fine. You’re… You’re going to be fine! This is all fine! You are not dying!” Gavin wondered who he was actually trying to reassure; Caleb, or himself. Gavin glances over at Caleb. Caleb does not look reassured.

“D… Dying?! I’m… I’m dying?” Gavin curses himself for being this shit at handling stress situations.

“No. No. It’s fine Caleb. I… You’re going to be fine! It’s just… just broken ribs. It’s fine.” Turning his attention back to the road, Gavin tries to get his breathing in check, attempting a few slow and deep breaths in a row. Gavin can feel Caleb’s eyes on him, getting the feeling that the man next to him is burning to ask him something, but doesn’t dare to say anything.

“You want to say something, right? Go on. You always have my permission to speak.” Gavin’s words come out a bit choked between his shitty attempts at calm breathing. He can see Caleb fidgeting with his hands in the corner of his eye.

“I… Mas… I… I mean Gavin I…” He closes his eyes, swallowing hard. He clenches his fists before speaking louder, faster and clearer than Gavin heard him ever before. “If you’re bringing me to a… a Pet pound because of a… a few br… broken ribs, I… I beg you not to! I can st… still work! I can be… be useful a… and good, eve… even if I am damaged goods!” For a moment, Gavin can’t say anything. But he jumps back into action when he can see Caleb curling in on himself again, looking horrified at how he just spoke back to his Master. Gavin can sense him going into apologising and begging for forgiveness mode.

“No! I’m not taking you to a Pet pound!” Gavin stops. He’s being too loud. He can’t get loud with Caleb. He tries again, keeping his voice at a moderate level. “I would never Caleb. “ Caleb is staring at his wrists. “Caleb… Please look at me.” Caleb obeys, as he always does. “I can’t look at you right now. Don’t want to get us caught up in a car accident as well… But please. Trust me when I say, I’m not going to give you away. Not now, not ever.” Gavin feels Caleb itching to ask something again.

“It’s okay if you want to ask something Caleb. I won’t see it as rude.” Caleb resumes his fidgeting again.

“I… Ga… Gavin, whe… where are we go… going then?” Good question. Where are they going to? Caleb needs medical care. And fast. Gavin is not risking a man’s death over said man’s assurance that he can work on with broken ribs. Pet medical facilities have the biggest array of different treatments, but Gavin doesn’t trust them, nor does he like the rumours he’s heard about the places. And it could very well scare Caleb, seeing one of those places, and he might assume Gavin might still want to give him away.

No. no way in hell is Gavin taking Caleb to one of those places.

Normal hospitals offer limited treatment for Pets, but only in emergency situations. Well if this wouldn’t be counted as a emergency situation, Gavin didn’t know what would. Gavin shuddered. His dislike of hospitals is big, but he wouldn’t risk a humans life because of one of his silly dislikes.

Caught deep in thought, Gavin almost misses a turn, and ends up having to do it a little too fast and sharp. Caleb gets caught unready for the sudden change of direction, and hits the car door with his shoulder. He grunts in pain, wrapping his arm around his right side as the movement must have jostled his ribs. Guilt pools in Gavin’s stomach, hot and sharp.

“Shit, Caleb, I am so sorry! Crap… Sorry! I’ll try to drive more careful!” Gavin is aware that he’s being too loud, but he can’t help it. Caleb just has a confused and pained expression plastered on his face. Well, at least he probably didn’t mistake me raising my voice as signs of anger, Gavin thinks.

Gavin decides against saying anything else, knowing that he keeps saying thing that just make Caleb worry more. Shutting up is his best option here. And that he does for the rest of the drive. There are no more issues with Gavin’s terrible driving leading to more pain for Caleb, but the way he takes every breath with extreme caution worries Gavin a lot.

Getting Caleb out of the car needs a little bit of patience and gentle coaxing, fear evident on the smaller man’s still bruised face. It’s obvious Caleb wants to obey, but the fear is keeping him from doing that, causing him even more distress. Eventually, Gavin manages to get him out, promising him that he won’t leave his side, and telling him that he can hold on to him if that makes him feel better.

Cautiously, pale, frail fingers wrap around Gavin’s left arm gently, as Caleb’s worried eyes skim across the parking lot. Gavin smiles reassuringly, lightly placing his bigger hand over the smaller, scarred one clutching to his upper arm.

“You’re doing great Caleb.” Caleb doesn’t look like he’s sure he should be allowed to believe that.

Keeping his pace slow as to accommodate for Caleb’s limp, Gavin starts walking towards the entrance of the hospital. Gavin’s concern spikes at how small and breakable Caleb looks clinging to his arm. It’s only been approximately two days since Gavin first saw Caleb kneeling on the floor before him in Mr. Hughes house, but Gavin already knows that if it came to it, he’d be ready to take bullets for this guy. Caleb deserves more love and care and positive attention then Gavin could ever give him and it burns him up inside that people like his boss would find pleasure and amusement in abusing people like him.

Caleb has a poorly concealed expression of pain spread to every corner of his face, worrying Gavin further.

As they step into the hospital, Caleb moves a little closer to Gavin, so close that he’s pressed right against his side. Gavin takes his hand in his.

“Hey… It’s okay. I won’t leave your side.”

Caleb mumbles a quiet “Thank you Master.” in response.

Once at the reception desk, Gavin contemplates just not mentioning that Caleb is a Pet, but eventually decides against it. The chip would get noticed, and he’d only prologue Caleb’s wait for treatment and get them both into trouble.

So he has to explain to the man at the desk, probably in his early forties with black hair and reading glasses, that he’s actually Caleb’s owner. The man’s smile fades to a frown.

“Oh. You’re one of those people. Well you just need to go right down that hall, and at the far left, you’ll find a door leading to the Pet ward. Good luck finding it.” He does nothing to conceal the disgust in his voice or expression. Gavin nods and smiles, before going in the direction the receptionist pointed him. Guilt blooms in Gavin’s chest once again.

It doesn’t take them too long to get there, even with Caleb’s limp. He’s obviously pushing himself hard to walk fast.

Once in the ward, Gavin is greeted with another reception desk, this time maned by a young blond girl, currently typing something on the computer in front of her. She looks up at Gavin, and then over at Caleb. She frowns at Caleb, probably because of the terrified way he clings to Gavin’s side, and the bruises littering his face and neck.

“Yes?” Her voice has a hint of sadness to it.

“I well… Um…” He points at Caleb. “He’s got like… seriously bad looking broken ribs all along his right side and I don’t know how long he’s had them and he could be dying of internal bleeding and he’s in a lot of pain, like… a lot! And I don’t know if some of the bones pierced some of his internal organs or something! It looks really bad!” Gavin couldn’t stop the spew of words from coming from his mouth, barely remembering that he still has to breath.

“Woah there Mister, calm down! Can you show me how bad it looks?” Quietly apologising to Caleb, he tugs his t-shirt up and shows her his right side. “Yeah… That doesn’t look good… I��ll make sure to get a doctor to see you as soon as possible.” She grabs a piece of bright yellow paper and a pen from the side and hands both to Gavin. “In the meantime, fill this out. Waiting room’s over there.”

She points to a door to the side. Gavin nods and steps into the waiting room, Caleb still clutching to his arm.

There aren’t many other people in the waiting room. There’s an elder lady with a tired expression on her face sitting on a chair with a female Pet sitting at her feet. She looks like a rather high class pet, dressed rather fancily. She has her knees drawn up to her chest an her eyes closed. There is a second woman siting in a chair further away. She looks younger and seriously pissed. She has a male Pet kneeling at her feet, a less high class pet then the other woman. The Pet has his arm cradled to his chest, it looks bent in an odd angle. There is a third Pet kneeling in the corner. It seems his Owner has left him here, probably to impatient or busy to wait with his Pet. The Pet has burns running up and down his arms. They don’t look all too bad, but cover a big enough area to need to have someone have a look at them.

Gavin sits down, making sure that Caleb sits in the chair right next to him. The elder lady seems put off by this. Gavin ignores her displease expression and starts filling out the formalities on the paper. It doesn’t ask much. Just basics, like the owners name, address, phone number and year of birth. It asks even less of the Pet. Merely their number and why they where brought here. Gavin has forgotten Caleb’s number by now. He leans closer to Caleb.

“What’s your number again?” He keeps his voice gentle and quiet.

“43002612” Caleb sounds a bit scared. Gavin can feel him trembling beside him. Gavin puts the paper to the side and turns to Caleb.

“Hey… You’re doing so great. And I really mean it. I know how stressful and scary hospitals can be.” He gently takes his Pet’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. “Is the pain bad? Please be honest.”

Caleb stares at Gavin, hesitating, before very cautiously nodding. Gavin frowns.

“But you’re doing really good.” Gavin smiles. For a moment, Caleb’s eyes seem to brighten up slightly.

It seems to Gavin that it takes ages until they get called out of the waiting room, the elderly lady complaining about them getting called out first in the background as they leave the waiting room.

In the doctor’s office Caleb gets asked to sit up on the examination table and take of his t-shirt. He does so with a bit of aid from Gavin’s part.

The doctor is a smallish man with greying brown hair that looks like he’s done with everything. He moves his chair closer to where Caleb is sitting, and scans his chip.

“Oh, only been his owner for a few days then, huh?” He eyes the bruises covering Caleb. Gavin nods, but says nothing. “Okay then. Lets get on with this then. I don’t have much time. Lay down please.”

Caleb looks at his Master questioningly, and when Gavin nods, he does what is asked of him.

The doctor examines the area by pressing at Caleb’s ribs gently and listening to his lungs.

“Well he has four broken ribs on his right side, that’s for sure, but his lungs are fine. But you’re not getting out of running him through an x-ray.”

“What about internal bleeding?”

“Well. I can’t really determine that from outside. We will run an MRI too to determine that.” Gavin nods.

The doctor runs through some technical things with Gavin whilst Caleb sits next to him silently. Gavin soon notices that there is no way he will be able to join Calen during the tests he’ll have to go through, and begins to worry about him. He promised he’d stay at Caleb’s side. When Caleb catches on to this he clings to Gavin even tighter.

“I know I promised I wouldn’t leave your side. I’m sorry, but I can’t come with you for this. I’m so sorry. But I’ll be right back at your side as soon as I can. And that’s a promise I plan to keep.” Caleb looks scared and unconvinced, but, obedient as ever, lets himself get led away.

This is when Gavin really starts to worry. It’s taking way too long. What if Caleb feels uncomfortable or scared? What if he passed out from internal blood loss? Gavin can feel himself hyperventilating again as he paces the halls of the Pet ward. He tries to get his breathing under control by breathing slowly into his cupped hands and holding his breath for ten seconds. It works moderately, but he still needs to lean against the wall for a moment.

It’s just all so much! A few days ago, he had nothing to do with Pet’s at all, nor did he think he ever would, and now, he owns one, and even might be responsible for his death. Yes, he wasn’t the one to inflict the wounds, but he should have noticed. He should have noticed. He should have took Caleb to the hospital straight away. Gavin rubs the palm of his hands across his face. There are so many things he should or could have done. So many. He just hopes he didn’t do the ones he did too late.

When he spots Caleb limping in his direction alongside a nurse, he feels like he can breath just a little bit freer. He starts bombarding her with questions and she tells him to calm down and that she’ll explain in a moment, sending Gavin’s heart racing with worry again.

Once Caleb is back on the examination table, she explains to Gavin that he hasn’t gotten any internal damage aside from the bruising around his broken ribs, and that the fractures are rather basic, so it will heal on its own.

“They won’t need any further medical treatment, but the rest of him sure does.” She glares at Gavin.

Gavin silently holds Caleb’s hand through out the treatment of the rest of his injuries, caressing the back of his hand with his thumb again. At one point the nurse leans in closer and asks something of Caleb. He shakes his head and says something quietly. The nurse looks up at Gavin.

“He says you didn’t do all this to him.” She gestures at the burn on Caleb’s ribs she’s currently tending to. Gavin shakes his head.

“No. I’ve only…” Gavin sighs. “Only been his… his owner for a short while.” She nods, becoming slightly less hostile towards Gavin.

Once she’s done, Caleb is bandaged up much neater then the low quality of bandaging Gavin had achieved. The nurse briefly explains some basics about how to care for the different wounds and how all he could do for the broken ribs is let Caleb rest and ice the area.

“What about some stronger pain killers? He’s in a lot of pain… I’ve been giving him Advil, but it isn’t nearly strong enough.”

She almost laughs out loud.

“Oh dear, no. I’m afraid that’s frightfully illegal.” Gavin blinks in confusion.

“What?”

“Prescribing Pet’s strong pain meds is illegal, dear. Have you been living under a rock?” What the hell?! Gavin runs his hands through his hair.

“Yeah. Apparently I have.”

From then on, Gavin tries to get out of there as fast as possible, wanting to get Caleb into an environment with less people, and himself out of the sterile halls of the hospital which seem much narrow for his liking.

When they are finally back in the car, he feels a little bit more relaxed. But he doesn’t trust himself to drive just yet.

“You did really good in there Caleb! You stayed so calm…” Caleb’s eyes brighten ever so slightly again.

“Tha… Thank you Gavin!” Gavin smiles a bit.

“Are you okay? Please answer truthfully.” Caleb stares at Gavin, trembling slightly. He seems to have no idea how to react.

“I guess what I’m asking is, do you need a hug?” Caleb hesitates and Gavin wonders if Caleb even likes such close physical proximity.

“I… I don’t think I… I deserve a… a reward Ma… Master Gavin…” Oh, so that’s what this is about.

“Well. I think you handled yourself really well in there. I think you deserve it.” Caleb looks unsure.

“I… Really?”

“Yes.” Gavin smiles reassuringly.

“Then… I… I’d be happy to a… accept a hug, Master Ga… Gavin”

Gavin manoeuvres himself closer to the passenger seat awkwardly, and gently wraps his arms around Caleb, careful as not to hurt him further. The position is rather uncomfortable for Gavin, the car’s gear stick sticking painfully into his thy, but by the way Caleb leans into Gavin, he really needed the hug, and then Gavin is more than happy to suffer through some minor discomfort for that.

To be honest, Caleb wasn’t the only one that really needed a hug.

#long post #sorry...#my writing #my OC's #hospital #broken bones #broken ribs #mention of other injuries #past abuse #modern slavery #pet whumpee #pet whump #whump #this did not come out that good...#sorry #my stuff #gavin and mutt

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spinedog · 4 years

Text

Dealing with horses during BLM protests

Well, this is certainly a departure from my usual content. But, the time has come to be of civic service.

I’ll admit right now - I’m a white Canadian living in a rural area. While I have been educating myself during this time (and I strongly encourage you to do the same if you haven’t already, this video is a good place to start), I haven’t really done any activism, Partially due to my own rocky mental health, partially due to fear of giving out heavily flawed information.

But, in the past few days I’ve seen a lot of clips of people riding horses during Black Lives Matter protests, and clips of protesters on foot being confronted by mounted police. I’m not much of an activist and I’m not well educated on the struggles faced by african-american people - but I do know a hell of a lot about horses. And while I feel I should be doing something far more constructive to help, this is knowledge that I know is solid and worth sharing. I may as well start there.

So: below is a quick guide for dealing with both police and protester horses while on foot. It’s intended for those unfamiliar with horses and is really just a surface-level guide that will only help a very small amount of people. But, if it helps one person get out of a tight spot, it’s worth it.

Please spread this around, and if I’ve missed anything or if anyone has better information, please add to it!!

Horses tl;dr

Prey animals - they want to flee from danger, not face it.

If forced to fight, they will use their hooves before they use their teeth. The hooves usually get the job done better.

Close to 360 degree vision and see well in low light

Blind spots directly in front of their nose and directly behind their tail.

Communicate almost solely through body language

Head low, ears sideways, very little eye white visible - calm horse

Head high, ears held stiffly back, eye white clearly visible - stressed horse

Watch the ears - wherever the ears are pointing is what the horse is paying attention to.

Experts at reading human body language (even better than dogs are)

React best to quiet, calm people and quiet, calm body language.

More under the cut, to save your dashboards

When dealing with police horses:

Things to know about police mounts:

They are trained to be calm even in the most chaotic of situations. Ideally, this means that they feel calm and confident, but sometimes these horses will have simply repressed their natural urge to flee. Think of them as repeating ‘just keep going’ to themselves at all times.

They can be used as weapons by their riders, but they are not trained to intentionally attack.

They are used to shove, not kick/strike/bite, and are generally less likely to kick and/or bite than the average horse.

Horses are remarkably good at not trampling people. They can see where all of their feet are at all times, and they do not like stepping on uncertain ground (Ie, a human body). But they can trip and stumble, and if you are caught underneath, things can get very ugly very quickly.

The two major dangers of a police mounted unit:

The police officer

Self-explanatory.

Keep in mind that riders tend to be very fond and very protective of their mounts. If a cop thinks you’re trying to cause harm to the horse, they will not react well.

The size of the horse itself.

The average riding horse weighs around 1500lbs, and all of that weight is resting on four solid hooves. Even if a horse doesn’t mean to step on you, it will cause damage.

What to do if you are protesting and you see a mounted unit coming:

If you’re on your own, do NOT try to stand in the way. The horse would probably stop for you on its own, but the rider is going to tell it to keep going, and it’s going to listen.

If you need to hold your ground, block the path with a roadblock, barrier, or car if possible, and stay behind it. A horse will recognize a fence as an obstacle, and it will be less willing to just go plowing into it. It’s a thinking, breathing animal, not an SUV.

If a mounted unit is just in your area and you feel nervous, the safest place to be is about 8 or more feet behind the horse. Both the officer and the horse can see you, but you’re too far away to be a threat, and you’re in a very inconvenient place to have something shot or thrown at you.

What to do if a mounted cop rides into you:

First, realize that the rider is putting his horse in immense danger by doing this. I’m not a cop, but I feel fairly comfortable in saying they are not supposed to do this.

If you can, get out of the way before you’re knocked off your feet.

Avoid the withers (shoulders) of the horse - this is actually the safest place to be when handling horses, but an officer can easily hit you with a baton from there.

If you are hit and you fall down:

Stay calm! Flailing around offers more things for a horse to accidentally hit.

Cover your head with your arms and curl into as tiny of a ball as you can - remember, the horse doesn’t want to step on you, and it will actively avoid doing so. Give it as much room to get around you as possible.

Most of a horse’s weight rests on its front hooves. If you have any control at all, avoid coming into any contact with them.

Do NOT try to kick out at the horse’s legs or try to trip it. If it falls, it’ll fall directly on you.

As soon as the horse has passed, get away from the situation. If the cop decides to back the horse up, you are FAR more likely to be severely hurt. Horses don’t move backwards as well as they do forwards, they will be clumsier and have a much harder time avoiding you. Avoid this at all costs.

Find a medic. Crush injuries are no joke, and hooves can have surprisingly sharp edges. You may need medical attention.

If a mounted cop rides into someone near you:

It’s horrible, it’s terrifying, but wait until the horse has passed over the victim before you run in to help. Police horses are still horses, and you running in to help could land you a kick in the gut. You can’t help anyone if you’re hurt too.

If you know someone who knows first-aid, get them in there before you move the person. Spinal injuries can easily happen with the wrong step, and moving the person could injure them more. But, if there’s no one there to help and it’s between moving them and leaving them to die, try to keep the head and neck immobile while you pull them to the side. Life over limb.

This situation is extreme, and is absolutely a worst-cased scenario. But you may end up in a situation where a cop is deliberately riding a horse over someone on the ground, then backing up over them or turning the horse in an attempt to trample someone. If this is happening, make sure someone is recording it, because it is an active attempt to kill the person on the ground and you’ll need it as evidence.

DO NOT ATTEMPT WHAT I AM ABOUT TO SHARE UNLESS IT IS AN EMERGENCY. IT’S NOT GUARANTEED TO WORK AND HAS A HIGH LIKELIHOOD OF GETTING YOU HURT. But if someone’s life is in danger and you need a Hail Mary, this is it.

If you are right near this situation, do NOT try to grab the horse’s reins. The horse won’t hurt you, but the rider absolutely will.

There is a spot on the horse called the flank - it’s the spot where the back legs meet the belly on the side of the horse. There’s a strip of hair running upwards towards the horse’s hip, it’s pretty easy to see.

Place your hand flat against the flank and push with everything you have. Most horses are trained to swing their hindquarters out of the way when a handler does this, and with any luck, the horse will instinctively move its hindquarters sideways and give your fallen comrade a second to get to their feet and run.

The horse may not move at all. Or, it may kick you. Actually, it probably will. This is a VERY dangerous thing to do to a horse you don’t know, in a high-stress situation.

Do NOT punch this area - horses have VERY sensitive skin, even more so than we do, and they are even more sensitive in this area. This already has a high chance of getting you kicked, don’t increase your odds.

Part of the reason I’m sharing this is because it’s behind the saddle, and behind the rider. The cop will know you’re there, but they have to turn very awkwardly to hit you, and it might give you enough time.

If the horse doesn’t move immediately, it’s not going to. I’m sorry, but you’ve done what you can, you need to run away.

As soon as the horse has moved, get away as fast as you can - but don’t turn the way you came, run straight. If the hind end is pivoting away, the front end is coming towards you - and the front end is where the rider is.

Once again, do NOT do this unless you HAVE to. You may get hurt, the fallen person may get hurt worse, and the horse that is just trying to do its job will be sore from getting hit in a sensitive spot. But I wouldn’t be doing my civic duty if I didn’t mention it.

What to do if you find a riderless police horse:

(Honestly I hope none of you do, because it will mean the situation has escalated and you should probably be getting the hell out of there.)

If there are police nearby, do not touch the horse. Most cops have more respect for the animals they work with than their own citizens, they will take care of it.

If there are no police around, but there is no obvious danger, don’t touch the horse. It’s not worth being accused of theft.

On that note, DO NOT TRY TO RIDE OR STEAL A POLICE HORSE! It might seem like an awesome idea at the time, but in practice it’s insanely dangerous for both you and the horse.

If the animal is in obvious distress (injury, stressed posture, cornered in a dangerous situation), and there are no police around, you may need to intervene. ONLY INTERVENE IF YOU FEEL COMFORTABLE AND YOU ARE NOT IN DANGER YOURSELF.

Approach the horse slowly. Aim to end up beside its left shoulder (horses are generally trained to be led on this side). Don’t walk in straight line towards it, focus on walking towards a nearby object instead. Don’t make eye contact.

Give a big, slow exhale and relax your shoulders. Horses are VERY good at reading human body language, they will be less likely to flee and cause more damage to themselves.

Once you’re at its shoulder, take the rein (the long leather piece that the rider uses to steer) closest to you.

Always hold the rein so that your thumb rests at the end closest to the horse. If it spooks and takes off, it’ll be easier to let go and you’ll be less likely to get rope burn.

If the horse panics and rears up/strikes out/kicks, let go and back up. It’s very tempting to just lock down on the rein and hang on, but you’re only putting yourself in harm’s way. You’ve tried to help, don’t get hurt.

If the horse is cool, start walking towards safety. Don’t try to pet the horse or do any horse-whispering crap, just get out of the situation. The horse will want to go with you - they are herd animals and most horses see humans as herd mates of some kind, it will understand the concept of being led towards safety. Once you’re in a safer situation, just let the horse go. Again, it’s not worth being accused of theft.

If there’s a visual danger nearby (fire/smoke) and the horse won’t move, take a bandanna/shirt and use it to cover the horse’s eyes. Hold the ends under the horse’s jaw, and talk to it in a constant, soft voice while you walk. It’s scary for everyone involved, but if tear gas is involved this is much safer for the animal.

If the horse is injured, call a veterinarian. Most large cities will have a large 24hr vet hospital, smaller ones will have ‘emergency’ lines for closed hours; they may not have large-animal veterinarians on staff, but they will know where to find help. On top of that, vet clinics have no affiliation with police and their only priority is the welfare of the animal. Report that you’ve found a police horse in distress, but you’re not comfortable contacting the police yourself and need to know where to take it so it will be found. Do NOT try to perform medical care yourself.

Lastly, but most importantly:

***DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, INTENTIONALLY HARM A POLICE HORSE***

There’s a much bigger reason for this than the moral ‘don’t hurt animals’. Often times, we like animals more than other humans, and we feel strong emotional responses when they are harmed. Writers still use that as a vehicle to spur anger or hatred of a certain character of a group: Want the audience to hate John Wick’s enemies? Have them kill his dog.

This will absolutely be used against you - if a protester or rioter were to harm a police horse, it will be used by the police and by the media to influence public opinion. A horse’s death won’t cause the same outrage as a man’s will, but it will have a visceral, emotional response from everyone who sees it. We all innately know that the horses that are used by police force did not choose their career. They didn’t grow up wanting to walk through cities and face angry humans. They do it because it’s what they do, and unlike the cops that ride them, they don’t want to hurt you. And yes, I know that the police put them in danger every day. You can’t control their actions, but you can control your own. Do your best to avoid catching them in the crossfire, for your own sake as much as theirs.

When working with protester’s horses

This will be a much smaller section, but it’s important to mention too. Unlike police horses, protester’s horses are not necessarily trained to handle the noise and chaos of even a peaceful protest, let alone a riot or a police attack. A responsible owner won’t bring a nervous horse to a protest, will stay in a group with fellow riders, and will leave long before any threat of danger. (And, yes, I’ve seen the clips of the lone rider in Chicago that brings his horses to protests. I can’t really judge much there because those horses seem to fear nothing.) But, that said, the best of plans can fail, and sometimes danger comes before you’re ready.

If you are walking with a group of protesters on horseback:

Ask the riders where they want you to stay, and stay there.

If you can’t ask or have suddenly found yourself in their company, stay in line with the horse’s left shoulder. This is the absolute safest place to be when near a horse with a rider that isn’t going to try to hurt you.

Don’t pet the horses unless you have been invited to.

Keep your voice down when near the horses, and avoid sudden movements.

If the horses spook at any time, get out of the way. Don’t try to stop them from running and don’t try to be a barrier. A scared horse has no thought process aside from ‘move as far away as possible, as quickly as possible’. Remember what I said about horses avoiding stepping on you? That all goes out the window as soon as they’re spooked and start running. At this point, you’re a crunchy speed bump to them.

This is not likely to be relevant, but for the sake of mentioning it - some horses, especially mares, can be protective of their riders. This is the rare case where a horse can be overtly aggressive. As with everything, watch the ears - if they’re pinned flat against the horse’s neck, that horse is about to take a chunk out of someone. Back off, and avoid eye contact.

If you find a riderless horse that is not a police horse:

All of the points from the ‘riderless police horse’ apply - but this is a horse that probably doesn’t know how to handle a city. Be VERY careful, this animal is far more likely to accidentally hurt you than a police horse is.

Only approach if it’s an emergency and/or the horse is in distress, and if you do, focus on relaxing and moving calmly - this horse is FAR more likely to spook than a police horse.

And finally - if you own a horse, and you’re considering bringing it to a protest, don’t. You’re putting yourself, your fellow protesters, and your horse at risk. It makes for a cool twitter feed to see later, but as someone who has ridden horses in urban settings, it makes for very scary, dangerous situations. It can have a very inspiring effect on a protest, but it’s ultimately not worth the risk. If you are part of a group that is all taking horses and all going, keep your head on a swivel and always watch your horse. You have the right to say ‘I’m out, this is stressing my horse out too much.’ Your horse would probably agree that black lives matter if you could explain, but you can’t, and the situation is going to be horribly frightening and stressful for the average horse. Make a cardboard replica of a horse/unicorn/dragon head and mount it on your bicycle instead, it’ll probably be safer.

All of that said - I’m well educated in horses, but I’m not an expert by any means. If anyone has any additions or corrections, please add them in!!

I hope this is just interesting to you, and you will never have to use it. But, if you do, I hope it helps you. Remember to wear your masks, stay six feet away from any human with a respiratory system, and know that you are loved, admired, and appreciated. Stay safe out there, loves <3

#black lives matter #protest2020 #protester safety #blackouttuesday #protest horses #spinedog speaks

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zelvyth · 4 years

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From a very young age it was reinforced that my ADHD was a disability I was meant to overcome rather than a tool I could use to better myself. I didn’t even know that I had been diagnosed, and that my mother had chosen not to medicate me, until I was partway through highschool. By that point I had already begun to give up on ever truly “making it” in life. The hurdles I needed to overcome had demoralized me to the point of near total apathy. Between my sexuality and early coming out in a small town highschool, and my various mental health problems, I felt like no one in the world saw things from my point of view. The last blow to my self esteem came when my grade 12 english teacher, the true decider of fate to any young person, told me my final thesis on Lady Macbeth being one of the greatest example of the flaws in Machiavelli’s “The Prince” was brilliant, but due to formatting and scattered grammar issues, she could give me no higher than a 60%. After years of getting consistent high 90’s in my english classes as well as other subjects, I had failed this extremely crucial essay due to the idiosyncrasies of the most frustrating language known to humankind. I passed that class with a 68, and felt like my fate was sealed. No chance at getting into any University in the country without redoing 5 months of work because one person believed that following the rules was a more important indication of intelligence than original ideas and the ability to make an argument. It crushed me. I admit that I didn’t put in the effort, but I had spent my entire life being told I was incredibly intelligent. It was the one thing I held onto. I felt betrayed by the education system. Though it was also due to many other factors at the time, this contributed to the second of my four suicide attempts. Today, I reject that philosophy.

When a person with ADHD is thinking, they connect ideas in their heads much faster than the average person. It can be confusing and disorienting to the people around them. I constantly have to explain how I got from point A to point B because the points connect automatically in my head. It’s exhausting, so I frequently do not bother to try. It’s extremely helpful when crafting an argument, however it can be debilitating in many aspects of modern life. Things the average person doesn’t think about, can be crippling for me. Without a true passion towards something, my ability to focus becomes hazy and my thoughts become scattered. I spend the majority of the day stuck in my head having conversations with myself instead of doing “normal” things with my time. I have spent my life being told that ADHD is my weakness, today I can tell you with the utmost certainty that it is my greatest strength.

When the international pandemic of the respiratory disease “Covid-19” truly began and the world went into full nationwide lockdown, the bistro that I had, for the most part, happily been employed at shut down. After 8 years of honing my culinary craft certain that my skills, though undervalued, would always be needed somewhere, I was out of a job. Indefinitely. So was most of the country that worked with their hands or, in some capacity, physically with other people. Unless you were able to conduct business through zoom conferences or were a suddenly “essential” employee like a fast food worker, you were left with little to do but sit and think or try desperately to distract yourself from the increasingly troubling world around you. Luckily, to my surprise, the conservative government had pledged to keep us all fed and watered as best they could. What deeply worried me was the knowledge that my friends south of the border, through no fault of their own, and already mostly furious with their government, were not being treated with the same bare minimum of respect. I knew it was a recipe for true disaster and widespread civil unrest as early as march.

I watched while the culture of social media, at least from my own lgbt bias, slowly started to shift and I picked up a lot of the big picture through memes and personally shared anecdotes. Celebrities were being ripped apart as they tried to get our attention again from their huge mansions while people sat at home worried about how to feed their children. Using insensitive phrasing like “we’re all in this together” when they undeniably weren’t. It quickly became a social caste system. The desperately poor trying to creatively make money any way they could. The often needlessly endangered. And the upper class for whom, little had changed besides the inability to do whatever they want at any given time. The lines were very clearly drawn. While the rich bemoaned their accessibility to haircuts, the poor argued with landlords about rent. All the while another group was frequently paid minimum wage to work on the proverbial front lines; flipping hamburgers, being yelled at by the rich because you were out of everything with the supply chain so damaged, or literally saving peoples lives. The anger and frustration quickly took over nearly every form of social media. Subtly, but day by day it grew. There was only so much one could do from inside their apartments, and globally, the havenots found solace and comfort with one another. The narratives of meme culture, which had matured and specialized far beyond the early days of “lolcats” and “trollface” comics, became almost exclusively about mocking the rich and their inability to deal with slight inconveniences.

Nearly every month of 2020 was a new major nationwide crisis and people had little else to do but talk about it or ignore it. The year kicked off with serious threat of a third world war because Donald Trump was tweeting intentionally inflammatory remarks towards the fascist leader of North Korea. All while nearly the entire country of Australia was ravaged by forest/bush fire. January saw a clearly corrupt president unbelievably not be impeached. Sparking outrage among, in my humble opinion, any sane individual. This also exposed, to anyone who knew all the facts, that the systems to hold those in power accountable was clearly broken and corruptible. Towards the end of January, beloved basketball player Kobe Bryant died in a horrible helicopter accident involving his daughter. Late February leading into early March was when global fears over Coronavirus began to be taken extremely seriously by every government in the world, the exception being the United States and the Trump administration. By late April, the country had over a hundred thousand dead, and nearly a quarter of its population out of a job. The irony of this, is that the calls to reopen the country didn’t come from those that had lost their jobs, but the upper class that had grown restless deprived from their usual comforts. Meanwhile we openly mocked them on instagram, tumblr, and twitter. Trying desperately to make light of a horrible situation and bring at least a little levity to their lives. News that a new breed of dangerously fatal hornets had migrated to North America was derided as a filler episode. One of my personal favourite takes on the year as a whole so far was a comparison to the four horseman of the apocalypse. January representing War, February representing Pestilence, March representing Famine, and April representing Death. In fact a lot of meme culture started to take on an extremely apocalyptic vibe. The message for many was clear, and depressing.

Then things started to happen really fast, so fast that for many it would make your head spin looking at it from the outside. It began with a video featuring a white Canadian woman from Waterloo named Amy Cooper that went viral across the globe. In the Ramble area of Central Park in NYC, this woman was filmed by a clearly peaceful, yet insistent, black man named Christian Cooper, no relation, asking her to leash her dog. This is a bylaw of the area. The woman refused and began to become very distressed, roughly handling her dog by the collar. She started dailing 911 and accused the man of assaulting her to the dispatcher. What many understood about this act, and rightfully called her out in outrage over, is that she was using her knowledge of how police handle black people in America to threaten this mans life over leashing her dog. She has been fired, and the shelter has taken her dog back.

Two days later, as I was travelling to my family’s cottage to “get away from it all and unplug”, a friend sent me a snapchat video from Minneapolis. It was on fire. I immediately did everything I could to try to find out what had happened. That, is when I saw the video of 8 minutes and 46 seconds of a police officer with his knee on the neck of another human being. This did not shock, nor suprise me. I had followed the many accounts of police killing people on video since 2014 when I was 16. When the Ferguson protests over Michael Brown’s killing by police officers were broadcast over most of the developed world. I had seen little change, despite Barrack Obama being President. This continued to happen for the next 6 years, though there were no more protests. Some of the people of those original protests that started the Black Lives Matter Movement, went missing over the next several years. Mainly those that had been photographed.

George Floyd’s death, I feel, was the straw that broke the camels’ back. Which is how anyone who has personally experienced police mistreatment and injustice would understand watching that video. A societal contract had been broken. And Minneapolis started to burn down the city that would let this happen to their friend, their neighbour, their father, their brother, and most importantly, their son. The words that chilled me to my very core… And continue to make me cry when I think about. Continue to make me want to punch every cop I run into.The words that have caused me to continue having this argument every day with everyone I know. The words that make me want to scream and rage and burn that country to the ground…. “Mama”

In his dying breaths this man called out to his mother. Who had died 2 years earlier. Who could not come save him. The police officer casually, with his hands in his pockets, knowing he could get away with it, murdered that man while he called out for his dead mother. Suffocated him to death in the middle of a global pandemic driven by respiratory disease. If I had been in Minneapolis that night, I would have helped burn it to the ground.

Something I didn’t expect happened then. Something I didn’t expect when I saw the fires and the rage from mostly black citizens of the city. As I watched Fox News try to turn the story into a conversation about rioting and looting rather than Police accountability. Other peaceful protests started up in other cities. My entire social media feed from multiple sources was filled with people discussing their anger and vowing to protest it. I don’t like to admit that I didn’t see this coming. But on May 26th, as I ravenously tried to keep up from the comfort of a cottage on Crystal Lake Ontario, a spark of hope for humanity that I had lost a long time ago started to ignite.

Something interesting happens when you get most of your information from social media. It either makes you hyper critical of everything you’re told and willing to research anything important, or it makes you willing to believe anything your friends tell you. As the protests kicked off in major cities across America, after months of inactivity, my ADHD kicked into high gear. I used every neuron of my brain power to follow the protests from as many different angles as I could. Most importantly, I followed the story from the people who were at them. That’s what growing up in modern society makes you do. After months if not years if not decades of being lied to for personal gain constantly. It makes you pay attention to the people who have nothing to gain.

I got back to my appartment from my cottage a day later, still glued to my phone. Barely talking, barely eating, barely sleeping. I watched police officers in riot gear throw tear gas into peaceful protests in every city in America. Tear gas, by the way, is an international war crime in combat situations. I watched media with an implicitly right wing bias condemn the protests. Convincing people that looting was worth a war crime. I watched it work. It worked with my own father. It did not work for me. I watched the news from political biases of both sides but took most of it with a grain of salt. That’s what I had been taught to do from as young as 14 by the world I grew up in. The news could give me general information. However, the story was on the ground and I knew from experience that people would try to bury it so I had to watch it as quickly as possible. I watched friends of mine in the states get tear gassed and beaten while exercising their first amendment rights. I watched the news condemn the protests. I was horrified. I watched the peaceful protesters of police brutality in New York get beaten and gassed from a minimum of 30 different perspectives of the people I knew and trusted, and those I didn’t. I watched the peaceful protestors in LA get beaten and gassed from the same amount of perspectives. I watched them throw flash bombs and shoot rubber coated bullets into the faces of my friends in every city in America. I watched the President of the United States order the peaceful protestors in front of the White House to be beaten and gassed so he could have an awkward photo-op with a fucking bible. I watched this for a week straight from every angle available. Day in and day out. Every hour I was conscious, I watched fascism try to grab power in in every city in America. I watched people in powerful positions deny it.

It wasn’t just paying attention to the protests and the news of them explicitly. I wasn’t just filled with horror. I was also watching something wonderfully unexpected happen. I watched my black friends, my gay friends, my asain friends, and my intelligent friends, begin to weaponize social media. I watched them beg all of their friends to do the same. So did I, even though I felt like there wasn’t anything I could really do from cozy liberal Waterloo. I watched us all turn the algorithms against the people who made them. I did everything I could to make sure you couldn’t turn away. I told my gay white friends condemning the actions of protestors that his rights came from a riot. I watched them shrink in fear of my voice. My father told me I was getting caught up in left wing rhetoric. I tore his arguments to shreds. He told me broad angry statements don’t do anything. I told him broad angry statements create the conversation we’re having. Resistance is a highway with many lanes, and I knew my lane.

You grow up, especially in my age, especially when you’re gay, especially when you are exposed to a lifetime of stories of rebellion against tyranny, hearing about the power of resistance. As I marched in Waterloo with over thirty thousand people I didn’t know, I realized that I have never truly understood that power. How it surges through your body like electricity as you scream until your voice is hoarse. It’s a high better than any drug known to man, than any pride parade where I was pandered to by corporations for hours. It took my fear, and my anger, and my helplessness and turned it into raw power exploding from my body. I continued to watch people I knew deny reality.

The protests grew. They spread across the world like wildfire. I went to facebook, a place I avoid because I don’t agree with the majority of people on it, and told anyone who would listen to me that this is what Pride means. What it truly means to be proud of your community. Not a rainbow flag in a store window, not a corporation asking you to buy it’s rainbow backpack. But turning apathy in face of evil into raw unbridled electricity. I watched the protests spread to Montreal and Toronto, I watched the police mishandle things there too. I watched violence perpetuated by the state against my friends, people I’ve known for years. The power I felt merely grew. It grew with every flash grenade and bullet and tear gas canister shot at my friends. It will not subside till this is over or until I die. I’m going to spend the next decade giving up the comfortable life of good food, great drinks, and fantastic company that I found in the restaurant industry. I’m going to spend a decade getting my Law degree to fight for every last one of us in the courtroom because that is a place I can make it count.

Today is June 8th of the year 2020 and I began writing this piece at Noon, it is now 4:11 P.M. I have done zero editing and I refuse to. I submit this as my revised final essay. I want to know when you got behind the protests. Because if it was as you were reading this, I deem you unworthy to judge my critical thinking skills. If it was yesterday I think you should be ashamed of yourself. I was with them from hour one. You should have been too. How dare you spend years teaching children about racism and oppression. How dare you tell me that I’m not worthy of higher education in any form. Telling children that wikipedia is unreliable as a source is idiotic, it’s one of the most peer reviewed encyclopedia’s to ever exist. How dare you tell me and the young adults you teach that you don’t give out scores higher than ninety percent. What is the point of forcing teenagers to write in cursive. Why must I live the experiences you write about in your precious properly formatted essays. In this country a 68 is two percent shy of getting into any University. It’s sentencing an intelligent person with an array of disabilities a life of believing they have no power. Despite my own mistakes at the time and the amount I have grown as a person since, I will hold you personally accountable for that.

As a closing statement, to every English teacher in this province, no, to every English teacher in the great country of Canada. Think very hard about when exactly you put your full support behind this movement. Because your curriculum is outdated, and absolutely useless in the real world. And your racism is showing.

Post Script.

There is no bibliography of unbiased sources because all sources are biased. You have a supercomputer in your pocket and this should all be public information. Look it up.

#blm #nojusticenopeace #adhd #adhd brain #protests #canada #manic

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