#changing their identity whenever they feel like it and getting prescriptions left and right | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zmbiiv4mp · 1 year

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𝔅ᴜɴɢᴏᴜ sᴛʀᴀʏ ᴅᴏɢs ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴs

𓂅 gender identity

𔘓 character(s) ⨾ Osamu Dazai,, Kenji Miyazawa,, Yumeno "Q" Kyūsaku,, Sigma,, Gin Akutagawa,, Ryūnosuke Akutagawa

𔘓 date & time ⨾ Nov.6th : 1:23AM - Nov.6th : 4:24AM

𔘓 reminder ⨾ these are my personal headcanons and I am in no way claiming that they are canon. these are my opinions and my interpretation of the characters. headcanons are a way for minorities to get represented in media, and not to ruin/change characters because you're unhappy with the canon version. everyone have a right to an opinion, and if you don't like mine you are free to ignore this post.

ⵌ OSAMU DAZAI

gender identity; transgender (ftm)

pronouns; he/him

when dazai was newly found by and taken in by mori, another one of the patients he (mori) was treating mistakingly mistook dazai (at the time) for a boy due to his short and messy hair. he never told the man that he wasn't and therefor kept being referred to as one, and after a while he started to dislike it when others (mori) didn't. He came out to mori shortly after by simply asking him to give him a new name and to call and treat him like a boy. shortly after his entire identification and legal information was changed and he was prescribed hormone blockers. when he got older and worked along side mori in the mafia, the prescription was changed and he was now given testosterone. around the time he was 18, and shortly before dazai left the mafia, mori (illeagly) preformed gender affirming surgery onto him.

ⵌ KENJI MIYAZAWA

gender identity; transgender (ftm)

pronouns; he/they

while living in his village, gender roles where anything but known. everyone worked and did what they enjoyed and where good at, creating a big social difference between sex and gender. exploring gender identities at a young age was normalized, which also proved to later be a big culture shock when he moved into the city and joined the agency. though, they secretly got help from dazai to get hormone blockers, plus have a chat about "passing" and if kenji valued expression over acceptance. ps, kenji is the only person other than mori and fukuzawa that know that dazai is trans.

ⵌ YUMENO "Q" KYŪNOSAKU

gender identity; agender

pronouns; they/it

With being locked up for so long, you eventually start to question yourself, including your gender identity. though they have only ever been referred to with it/its pronouns when ment to be dehumanizing, Q really didn't mind and even liked it. it have only had a few encounters with other people where they've had a conversations, but whenever it does happen, Q likes the look on their faces when they get confused and unsure of how to refer to it.

ⵌ SIGMA

gender identity; agender

pronouns; they/them

when first created from 'the book' sigma had a difficult time adjusting to the societal view of gender and gender identity. they had been told they're male, and yet something still felt wrong. it wasn't until they encountered terms and alternative perspectived that they understood and saw the way humans had been brainwashed and how they had managed to ruin their own minds.

ⵌ GIN AKUTAGAWA

gender identity; genderfluid

pronouns; fluid/they

starting off as a way to disguise themself in the mafia, gin noticed that they, at times, really enjoyed to dress masculine and that it sometimes felt more "right". they later realized they're genderfluid, but only between masculine and feminine gender identities. if possible, they usually try to present as the gender they feel most like, even though they rarely get the chance to due to needing to keep up their disguise. the only ones who know about gin's genderfluidity are ryūnosuke and higuchi, and for them gin usually wear a bracelet on fem days meanwhile no bracelet on masc or bigender days.

ⵌ RYŪNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA

gender identity; male

pronouns; he/they

it wasn't until two years after dazai left the mafia that ryūnosuke had recovered enough from the abuse that he had the self validation to even start to think about their own gender identity. when they did eventually find pronouns they felt comfortable with, the only person they told was gin.

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julienbakersideblog · 3 years

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Julien Baker’s track-by-track walkthrough of ‘Little Oblvions’

1. Hardline

“It’s more of a confession booth song, which a lot of these are. I feel like whenever I imagine myself in a pulpit, I don't have a lot to say that's honest or useful. And when I imagine myself in a position of disclosing, in order to bring me closer to a person, that's when I have a lot to say.”

2. Heatwave

“I wrote it about being stuck in traffic and having a full-on panic attack. But what was causing the delay was just this car that had a factory defect and bomb-style exploded. I was like, ‘Man, someone got incinerated. A family maybe.’ The song feels like a fall, but it's born from the second verse where I feel like I'm just walking around with my knees in gravel or whatever the verse in Isaiah happens to be: the willing submission to suffering and then looking around at all these people's suffering, thinking that is a huge obstacle to my faith and my understanding, this insanity and unexplainable hurt that we're trying to heal with ideology instead of action.”

3. Faith Healer

“I have an addictive personality and I understand it's easy for me to be an escapist with substances because I literally missed being high. That was a real feeling that I felt and a feeling that felt taboo to say outside of conversations with other people in recovery. The more that I looked at the space that was left by substance or compulsion that I've then just filled with something else, the more I realised that this is a recurring problem in my personality. And so many of the things that I thought about myself that were noble or ultimately just my pursuit of knowing God and the nature of God—that craving and obsession is trying to assuage the same pain that alcohol or any prescription medication is.”

4. Relative Fiction

“The identity that I have worked so hard to cultivate as a good person or a kind person is all basically just my own homespun mythology about myself that I'm trying to use to inspire other people to be kinder to each other. Maybe what's true about me is true about other people, but this song specifically is a ruthless evaluation of myself and what I thought made me principled. It's kind of a fool's errand.”

5. Crying Wolf

“It's documenting what it feels like to be in a cyclical relationship, particularly with substances. There was a time in my life, for almost a whole year, where it felt like that. I think that is a very real place that a lot of people who struggle with substance use find themselves in, where the resolution of every day is the same and you just can’t seem to make it stick.”

6. Bloodshot

“The very first line of the song is talking about two intoxicated people—myself being one of them—looking at each other and me having this out-of-body experience, knowing that we are both bringing to our perception of the other what we need the other person to be. That's a really lonely and sad place to be in, the realisation that we're each just kind of sculpting our own mythologies about the world, crafting our narratives.”

7. Ringside

“I have a few tics that manifest themselves with my anxiety and OCD, and for a long time, I would just straight-up punch myself in the head—and I would do it onstage. It's this extension of physicality from something that's fundamentally compulsive that you can't control. I can't stop myself from doing that, and I feel really embarrassed about it. And for some reason I also can't stop myself from doing other kinds of more complicated self-punishment, like getting into co-dependent relationships and treating each one of those like a lottery ticket. Like, 'Maybe this one will work out.'”

8. Favor

“I have a friend whose parents live in Jackson, where my parents live. They’re one of my closest friends and they were around for the super dark part of 2019. I'll try to talk to the person who I hurt or I'll try to admit the wrongdoing that I've done. I'll feel so much guilt about it that I'll cry. And then I'll hate that I've cried because now it seems manipulative. I'm self-conscious about looking like I hate myself too much for the wrong things I've done because then I kind of steal the person's right to be angry. I don't want to cry my way out of shit.”

9. Song in E

“I would rather you shout at me like an equal and allow me to inhabit this imagined persona I have where I'm evil. Because then, if I can confirm that you hate me and that I'm evil and I've failed, then I don't any longer have to deal with the responsibility of trying to be good. I don't any longer have to be saddled with accountability for hurting you as a friend. It’s something not balancing in the arithmetic of my brain, for sin and retribution, for crime and punishment. And it indebts you to a person and ties you to them to be forgiven.”

10. Repeat

“I tried so hard for so long not to write a tour song, because that's an experience that musicians always write about that's kind of inaccessible to people who don't tour. We were in Germany and I was thinking: Why did I choose this? Why did I choose to rehash the most emotionally loaded parts of my life on a stage in front of people? But that's what rumination is. These are the pains I will continue to experience, on some level, because they're familiar.”

11. Highlight Reel

“I was in the back of a cab in New York City and I started having a panic attack and I had to get out and walk. The highlight reel that I'm talking about is all of my biggest mistakes, and that part—‘when I die, you can tell me how much is a lie’—is when I retrace things that I have screwed up in my life. I can watch it on an endless loop and I can torture myself that way. Or I can try to extract the lessons, however painful, and just assimilate those into my trying to be better. That sounds kind of corny, but it's really just, what other options do you have except to sit there and stare down all your mistakes every night and every day?”

12. Ziptie

“I was watching people be restrained with zip ties on the news. It's just such a visceral image of violence to see people put restraints on another human being—on a demonstrator, on a person who is mentally ill, on a person who is just minding their own business, on a person who is being racially profiled. I had a dark, funny thought that's like, what if God could go back and be like, ‘Y'all aren't going to listen.’ Jesus sacrificed himself and everybody in the United States seems to take that as a true fact, and then shoot people in cold blood in the street. I was just like, ‘Why?’ When will you call off the quest to change people that are so horrid to each other?”

For Apple Music

#julien baker #little oblivions #interview #apple music #HOW WE DOIN YALL #I AM NOT OKAY #VERY #long post

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masked-buffoon · 3 years

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Chapter 13: Filled emptiness (Part 3)

Warnings: addiction, mentions of murder

Author notes: here is part 3...! It is a quieter part compared to the previous one, I hope you’ll like it!

We went back early enough for me to take a small shower and trade my shirt for a clean one. The doctor wanted to meet me in front of the dorms at half past seven, which also allowed me to have breakfast. While I was getting prepared, Dazai had gone to his bedroom to rest, but I was convinced he had most certainly fallen asleep. He rarely did sleep, even when he felt exhausted, so I hoped he could at least close his eyes without becoming an easy prey for his nightmares. I took a deep breath and exited his apartment to start my day, which would be the first of my therapy, too. I had not slept at all, yet I felt more energised than ever, and determined to finally turn a page of my life to start anew.

As expected Yosano-sensei was there, easily recognisable by the peculiar hairpin in the shape of a butterfly she wore everyday. I walked towards her, and greeted her with my brightest smile.

"Good morning sensei…!"

"Ogawa…! Just on time…! Today—"

She stopped, then grabbed my chin to take a closer look at my face. She narrowed her eyes, annoyance clearly changing her expression.

"... Are you kidding me, Ogawa…?"

"W-Well…"

"You didn't sleep, did you?" She clicked her tongue "I refuse to start your treatment today. You'll only feel pain, and it won't help at all."

"I see… I should have expected as much…"

"It doesn't matter." She patted my shoulder lightly "You surely had something important to do… I still have something to show you, though…!"

"And I'm impatient to see what it is…!"

She took a couple of keys out of her pocket, then led me towards the door to an apartment. I first thought it was her place, but that guess was pushed aside the moment I saw the room was empty. With a smile, she showed me around, and I quickly understood what was happening.

"Is that… My future home…?"

"You're wrong." She corrected me "It's not your "future" home, it's your home from now on. The former resident has just left, so you can use it."

"But… I don't have enough money to rent it… I thought that was why I was still living at Dazai's…"

"Money isn't an issue since the Agency pays for us. It was simply a matter of freeing some space for you. And, at last, it happened…!" She exclaimed, rather proudly "Do you like it?"

"Do I like it…? I love it…!" I answered, wholeheartedly "I finally have a home… Ever since I was born, no place had ever felt so warm… I'm so glad, thank you, Yosano-sensei…!"

"I'm happy for you, then." She smiled "You already have a futon, and a table. You can add other furniture when you have enough money to buy some."

"Yes…! I can already picture a bookshelf right here… It would be filled with books… And a pillow too, to create a cosy reading space…" I imagined.

"That's not a bad idea." She agreed "Oh, and… Look inside the wardrobe."

I was curious, so I did just as she said and opened it, only to find a set of new and colourful clothes. There were a few identical white shirts, as well as a navy blue suit composed of a jacket and a pair of pants. I looked at the doctor, astonished.

"Sensei, I… That's so much… I can't accept it…"

"It's a late welcome gift to the Agency." She said softly "Your clothes are… Well, I'm not sure you can call them clothes anymore… This is a new life, you need some changes."

"Even so, they are so beautiful…"

"You also have a new pair of shoes at the entrance, although you were too amazed by the place to notice them." She chuckled "I'd also like to do something for your hair… But let's wait for that addiction to go away first."

"I agree… I'll really be freed when morphine won't control my life anymore."

"That's right. For now, you should rest. Have some sleep, too. I'll see you tomorrow at the Agency for your treatment."

"Thank you again, sensei… Oh, and… I have a case, too… A request from a friend… I have to go to Hokkaido by the end of the week." I remembered.

"I see… Do you think you can handle this while following your therapy…? It might be too hard…"

"I want to be cured. And I can't go back on my word. Besides, it is rather urgent, since someone's life is at stake. I'll manage, somehow." I assured her.

"If you say so, I have no other choice but to trust you." She nodded "See you tomorrow at the Agency, we'll discuss the case and prepare for your departure."

"Yes, sensei…!" I smiled at her "See you tomorrow…!

As soon as I closed the door behind her, a feeling of relief and joy overwhelmed me. I had a new place… My own place, one I would call "home", where I would go back to, where I would hide from the world… Since I had been generously given a day off, I grabbed my keys, enjoying the light tinting sound they made between my fingers, and decided to head off. I at least needed to buy a teapot and a book to occupy my quiet day, before starting one of the toughest times of my life, my therapy. I had lived in the streets, killed people for the Port Mafia and had even merely escaped from death, yet separating myself from morphine seemed like an impossible challenge to overcome. The simple thought of not getting my injection anymore made me crave the sweet sensation provided by the product, and I immediately stopped in my tracks. After all, it would only start the next day… For the moment, I was still an addict and had the right to consume morphine. For the moment…

Once the drug was freely flowing in my vessels, I was ready to leave and go shopping. I also needed to fill my empty fridge, and Uemura-san's store seemed like the perfect place to spend my money. He knew me, and it would not be an issue to use the laundered money I had earned from the Port Mafia. From an illegal point of view, I was pretty rich, but it was money I could never use, except with a few rare people. The man welcomed me warmly, glad that I had finally settled down somewhere.

"And how is my disciple? I hope he takes good care of you." He said, scanning the price of my purchase.

"He does." I told him "He's too worried about me for my liking, but I suppose I can't help it… I'm touched, but…"

I sighed. I could not say it made me feel irrational when it came to Dazai…

"He can be pretty insistent." He shrugged "I think you remind him of his sister, that's why."

"His what…?" I frowned.

"He didn't tell you? Well… He had an older sister, back then… She was very kind, and lived absolutely unaware of her brother's activity. A nice girl, really…"

I took the bag he handed me.

"What happened to her?"

"She met a man. The wrong one. She went on a date with him and her body was discovered the next day. Her head, however… It was never found."

I felt a shiver running down my spine, then recalled the case. It was a famous one, I had heard about it, even in the Port Mafia. The culprit was a serial killer, and had never been arrested…

"He was only seventeen back then… A young teen with an incredible gift for his current activity… It left him with quite a trauma."

"I see… That serial killer…"

I clenched my fist. I was not one to work for justice, nor to defend Yokohama, but, somehow, it angered me that such an awful man was still running free in the world. Besides, since the case of the Fox's sister, many other headless female bodies had been found in our city… It was strange that the Agency and Ranpo-san had not already arrested the criminal… Maybe he had not been requested to work on the case, after all…

"Well, now, you may understand his behaviour better. Don't tell him that I told you." He winked.

"I won't." I promised "Oh, and, thanks for your advice. About cooking, I mean."

"Don't worry about that…!" He chuckled "I can't let you eat junk food everyday after all. Besides, if you want to start a new life, you've got to start by eating better…!"

"Still, thank you." I smiled "I'm very grateful that you support me so much… I'm not sure if I deserve your kindness… But I'll try to be worth it."

"You sought my support, and I am glad to give it to you." He patted my shoulder "Do your best. You're a good person, Ogawa."

"Thank you, Uemura-san… Thank you…"

It felt comforting to have someone who believed in me and in the fact I was able to redeem myself, somehow. I had never been a good person, and it was a lie to say that the Port Mafia had turned an innocent girl into a monster, for that beast had always lied dormant within me. However, being given a chance to be a better human was something I would forever be grateful for. We all had the right to change, after all…

When I came back to the dormitory, I instinctively walked towards Dazai's door, before remembering the reason I had gone out was to slowly inhabit my own place. Delighted, I inserted my key into the lock to open my door, and immediately relished in the quiet atmosphere of the room. Slowly, I removed my shoes and went to my fridge, feeling oddly satisfied as I placed the diverse vegetables and goods I had bought for the first time. I had never gone grocery shopping before… The only shop I had ever visited was an old pharmacy to buy morphine with a forged prescription. Even so, the pharmacist had never taken a look at the said prescription, too eager to chase an addict away from his store quickly, which explained why I had never lacked pain relievers despite leaving the Mafia. Truly, it felt… Normal.

Delicately, I unpacked the kettle Uemura-san had given me to celebrate my new place. With it, boiling water would be so much easier, and making tea would only take a blink. Five months ago, when I had just become a detective, I had decided to stop drinking alcohol whenever I needed a distraction from the world. Yosano-sensei had strongly warned me about the state of my liver, and I had decided to listen to her. Following her advice, I had discovered tea, which had then slowly replaced sake and whisky, although I still drinked alcohol from time to time. Immediately, I prepared a cup of tea, ready to relax for the rest of the day, before realising that I had forgotten to stop by the bookstore to buy the first book I would read in my new home. It was important to me, and I needed time to choose… Thus, I prepared to leave again, but when I opened the door, a small package had been placed in front of it, accompanied by a note.

"Welcome, neighbour!"

I giggled as I recognised Dazai's handwriting, and unwrapped the gift. It was a book, of course… The mystery I had been reading just the previous evening, and which I had yet to solve. That one would be the first book of my home, and it was not a bad thing that it was one I would continue. Because I now had a home, it did not mean I had to start everything anew… With a slight smile, I went back inside. Finally, I was ready to spend a relaxing day off, the last one before a series of troubles. Even so, I knew that everything would be fine, eventually.

#bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc #dazai #Dazai Osamu #yosano akiko #bsd yosano

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neuro-whump · 4 years

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Lost In Transit, Part 3

This is my entry to the Box Boy Extended Universe which was originally created by @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and written by @shameless-whumper and I’m using a lot of world-building which was done by @ashintheairlikesnow. Still somewhat vague on hospital procedure here, only semi-deliberately.

CN: Dehumanization, human trafficking, mass casualty events (referenced), dehydration, amnesia, mistaken identity, box boy universe, vomiting, bed-wetting, IVs

Part 2

Kenna was already having a bad second unsupervised day of work ever when she left their nameless patient to run his blood to the labs, and and do all the things that her regular assigned patients in the neuro ward still needed even when there was a all-hands-on-deck, honest-to-god mass casualty event filling the ER and flowing out into the hallways, failed to get the charge nurse to find an empty bed, and finally to go back to the ER, which was still overflowing - but maybe, finally, was beginning to overflow less - and managed to look in on him for just a moment before rushing off to take care of all the tasks and people who were more urgent than the scared, disoriented kid huddled in a corner behind a hastily erected curtain.

He didn’t seem better, and she made a note in his chart like she’d been taught and meant to find Joey or Dr. de Courcy and ask about it but Joey was up to her elbows in a code and she couldn’t even find Dr. de Courcy before the next set of ambulances arrived and then she was pulled into a trauma bay with a medical resident and neither of them knew where the burn dressings were and by the time she had time to check on or talk to anyone she had blood spattered on her scrubs and their mystery patient was doubled over being violently sick.

No one else really seemed to have noticed. He was out of the way without a call button and, compared to the general hubbub, not making much noise. And sitting, terribly precariously on a gurney without the side rails up (she should have put those up, why did she forget to put those up). She went over to him and braced his shoulders so he wouldn’t tip off onto the floor. Finding a basin seemed like a waste of effort anyway, he was already a mess.

“I’ve got you,” she said to him, “I’m right here, just just let this happen. It’ll be over soon.”

“I need a hand,” she yelled, and she hoped her patient was too preoccupied to notice how squeaky her voice had come out.

One of the ER nurses - Dana, or was it Carla - stuck her head around the curtain.

“I need -“ Kenna started, then took a breath and tried to sound like a professional, “Joey and Dr. de Courcy assessed him earlier but he’s deteriorating, and de Courcy wants him admitted to neuro and I can’t find a bed.”

Dana-Carla nodded briskly and left again and Kenna, who went back to trying to comfort her patient.

He was still retching periodically, even though he didn’t seem to have much left to bring up, and sobbing pitifully.

“S-sorry,” he gasped, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, “you just got a bit sick, is all.”

Really, he was more than a bit sick, and covered in vomit and dried-on salt and amber coloured urine. Why was he still so dehydrated?

“Is that why you’re upset?” she murmured to him, “because you had an accident? These things happen, no one’s mad, we’ll get you cleaned up right away. Just hang in there.”

She leant over to check his IV, but it was working fine. She opened it up wider anyway and hoped it would help.

“I’m sorry, I - ow,” he started again, and then shuddered and trailed off into a thin, pitiful whine and gagged again, curling up with his arms around his stomach.

Kenna stroked his shoulder a little bit, and tried to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do. He needed a bath, before the stomach acid started burning his skin, and clean bedding and a damn hospital gown because he was still naked under the soiled sheet, and she knew that and knew how to get all those things done in a real ER room, but to get any of those things right now, she’d have to leave her sobbing, disoriented patient unattended because she was actually standing in a corner of the waiting room with a curtain around it which hadn’t come up at any point in training because this whole day was insane.

Kenna was still standing around being an indecisive lump about what to do when Dr. de Courcy swept in. She’d been hoping for Joey.

“There’s an open bed now in 281,” she said, with no preamble, “don’t let them brush you off just because you’re new. When did this start?”

“Sorry,” Kenna sputtered, “um, he was about - that is, unchanged about an hour ago, and he was vomiting when I next saw him.” She could feel herself blushing, she felt like an idiot.

Dr. de Courcy looked them both over, and bent down to talk to their patient. He was already looking at her, he’d quieted and had his eyes fixed on her since she walked in.

“Do you remember swallowing anything before you arrived here 798591?” she asked.

He nodded miserably, with tears streaming out of his eyes.

“Can you tell me what it was?”

“There was some water,” he whispered, “and I thought I was supposed to.”

“And did that taste salty, or unpleasant?”

He nodded, “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I was bad, I’m sorry.”

“You’re just confused,” said Dr. de Courcy, soothingly, “I don’t think you’ve done yourself much serious damage, now, I need you to lie down so I can examine you, and then Kenna is going to take you upstairs and get you properly settled, and hopefully more comfortable.”

It was pretty clear that the last thing he wanted was to have someone press their hands into his obviously tender abdomen and Kenna wished she could stay and hold his hand through it, but he needed the be admitted properly and the ER needed the space and she could, occasionally, take a hint.

When she got back with a wheelchair he was sitting back up with his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach, still staring at Dr. de Courcy while she wrote out a prescription.

“You can give him an H2 antagonist for a few days, for any lingering gastritis,” she said, and handed Kenna the prescription, “I’m not changing Joanna’s prescription for the dehydration, it should work better when he doesn’t have a gut full of salt water and I’ve put in an order for repeat labs.”

Kenna looked at the orders and devoutly hoped she’d be off shift before it was time to redo the labs in the middle of the night.

Dr. de Courcy did help her get their patient into the chair, which Kenna appreciated, and then walked off without any indication of what she was planning to do with him other than store him in the neurology unit, which she did not.

The patient, who still didn’t have a name, Kenna supposed they should be calling him John Doe really, sat quietly and let Kenna dress him in a hospital gown and wrap the blanket he’d been brought in wearing around his shoulders so it wouldn’t get lost, and take him up to room 281 where the hospital gown was promptly tossed in the laundry and the blanket was tossed onto a chair until she could store it with the rest of the patient’s belongings.

“Alright, 79- um, oh boy I wish I knew your actual name, I’m going to give you a shower and get you your medication and then you’ll feel much better, sound good?”

He didn’t answer. He was crying quietly again.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, while she wound plastic around his IV port to keep it dry, “is the pain really bad? Can you tell me if its bad?”

He shook his head, which might have meant it wasn’t, and might have meant that he couldn’t tell her.

“Can you stand up,” she asked, “just until I get you into the shower.”

He nodded.

She got him into the shower and cleaned him off and tried to examine him properly and usefully, like a real nurse. She had definitely been taught how to do this without spattering herself with water, but she needed clean scrubs anyway.

Under the layer of salt and grime he was covered in superficial scrapes and bruises she tried her best not to put any more pressure on them than she had to. He’d obviously fallen forward at some point, there were a matched set of deep grazes on both his knees and the palms of his hands.

There was also a barcode tattooed onto his left wrist, with a tiny neat string of numbers underneath it 7-9-8-5-9-1.

It made a curl of anxiety form in her belly, which, in turn, made her feel a bit like a hysterical little girl.

She focused on talking him through the shower, and getting all the salt out of his hair, and coaxing him into rinsing his mouth out - he seemed uneasy about the mouthwash, which made her think he was still nauseated - and then drying him off and getting him into bed and a clean hospital gown. He was quiet through it, leaning on her a little while she transferred him into the bed, still staring at her with sad dark eyes like a fawn. He looked a little bit like a fawn actually, skinny and wide-eyed. The caramel coloured hair, currently dark from the shower, didn’t help. The thought caught in her head and jammed.

“I’m going to get you that medication now, alright,” she said, “I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t think she likes me,” he said suddenly.

“What’s that sweetie?” she asked.

“She’s going to send me back,” he whispered, his lower lip trembled, “I don’t want her to send me back, I don’t want to be r-refurbished.”

The curl in Kenna’s stomach curled a bit tighter. But she was the professional here. She comforted people while she was at work. People could comfort her when she was off the clock - whenever that actually was today.

“Do you mean Dr. de Courcy?” she asked.

He nodded. Two big tears dripped out of his eyes.

“Oh sweetheart,” she said, “No one’s going to send you anywhere. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe.”

More tears. She decided that, given it was late and they were both having a crappy day, that a few half-truths probably wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Besides,” she continued, “I think Dr. de Courcy likes you just fine. We’re just having a bit of a crazy night, and she’s just sort of scary like that all the time, its just her personality. She scares me too.”

That seemed to work. He nodded and tried to give her a watery little smile. It wasn’t a very good attempt. But she patted his forearm and left to get the prescription, and bandages.

Fawn stared dubiously at the pills when she brought them back.

“I know,” she said, “I know you don’t feel like swallowing anything right now, but these are to help your stomach feel better.”

He took them with a vague look of hurt in her general direction but by the time she’d got him medicated, and settled into bed and dressed the worst of the cuts so he wasn’t bleeding onto the sheets he seemed calmer and better focused.

“What’s this, sweetheart?” she asked him, picking up his tattoo’d wrist.

He looked at it like he’d just noticed it was there.

“The identifying bar code means I can be returned if I am lost,” he said flatly.

Returned to who? Kenna wondered, but she didn’t ask, because she was afraid to hear the answer.

“Well, you’re safe here tonight,” she said, and smoothed the blankets down around him, “and the call button is right here,” she pointed, “so if you need anything at all, or if you’re feeling too unsteady to get to the bathroom and manage the IV pole you can just press on it, and someone will come and help you.”

He nodded, but Kenna had a weird feeling about it, so she said again, “you can press the call button for whatever, okay, even if you’re just afraid. Its okay, its allowed.”

Okay, so, possibly the night-shift staff were going to hate her, but she really wasn’t sure he believed her about the button, and he looked so pitiful.

While she was fussing over him, Joey walked in.

“Carla said there was an issue with the IV?” she asked.

“Oh,” said Kenna, “no, he wasn’t hydrating well, but it turns out he swallowed a bunch of salt water, we think, well, Dr. de Courcy thinks. Dr. de Courcy said the original IV should be fine, but I turned it up bit.”

Joey came over and checked the line, and then bent over to talk to Fawn.

“Feeling any better?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Got a name for us yet?” Joey asked.

Fawn shook his head, “Dr. de Courcy didn’t want to give me one.”

Joey grimaced. In fairness, Kenna also grimaced.

“Well,” she said, “I’ll ask her about that. Maybe she’ll come up with something.”

Fawn sat up and smiled at her, “really? Is she going to come back?”

“Sure,” said Joey, “ but she’s going to come see you sometime tomorrow and its late now, so you should just try and have a good sleep okay? Would you like Kenna to turn the light off for you?”

“Can it stay on?” Fawn asked in a whisper, lying back down and curling himself up around the pillow and shutting his eyes.

“Sure hon,” said Joey, and left.

Kenna wished him good night, which he didn’t respond to, and went to talk to Joey.

“Everything okay,” Joey asked her, when she caught up.

“I am,” she said, “freaking myself right out.”

“What’s up?” said Joey.

“Fawn - um - John Doe, has a barcode tattooed on his wrist with that number he answers to under it. And he insists he was inside a box and he doesn’t want to be sent back. And its just, way too much.” Kenna explained, all in one go so she couldn’t chicken out half way through, “today is insane. Today is just insane right? People don’t get shipped around in boxes. Right?”

Joey looked at her and just sighed.

“Today is, in fact, insane,” she said, “but I don’t think you are. You need to tell Dr. de Courcy.”

“What,” squeaked Kenna.

“She’s his attending physician,” Joey explained. “Besides, if there’s going to be, like, legal weirdness, we won’t have to wrangle any lawyers if she’s there to do it.”

Kenna gulped, “where do I—“ go tell the most intimidating person in the hospital my insane-sounding, and possibly straight-up insane theories?

“If she’s not still in the ER or in her office she’s probably gone back to lay down in her coffin,” said Joey.

“Why does everyone make that joke?” Kenna asked, “I think you’re the third person I’ve heard say she does that.”

“Oh you don’t—“ Joey started, “I’ll tell you later.”

Kenna found Dr. de Courcy in her office, so at least she didn’t have to make a spectacle of herself in the middle of the ER where people could see her.

“Kenna. Come in,” she said, before Kenna could ask.

“I’m worried about our John Doe,” Kenna started.

“Is he displaying new symptoms?” Dr. de Courcy interjected in the space of Kenna gathering her thoughts.

“No, — I mean —“ Kenna babbled, and then tried to sound professional, “the patient’s condition is unchanged, but some of the observations I’ve made —“ she gave up, it was too late, and she was too tired, and she was going to sound insane either way, “I think John Doe might actually have been, being, you know, um, shipped in a box?”

Dr. de Courcy looked up from her computer and stared at Kenna, “which observations?”

“He talked about being in a box,” said Kenna, “and when I spoke to him earlier he was really scared of being ‘sent back’, and I know he might just be delusional, but he is responding to a string of numbers he has tattooed onto his wrist instead of a name and - and I know I’ve been watching stupid videos on Youtube, and believe me I’m going to stop, but he’s got a really weird form of amnesia right?”

“He does,” Dr. de Courcy said, “and I will be interested to see how many of my residents are able to make the same observation. And while I do not have what could be reasonably described as an appreciation for your taste in media, I do agree. I’ll write the hospital legal department. How widely have you discussed this?”

“I talked to Joey,” said Kenna.

“That’s fine,” she said, “but please refrain from talking to anyone else until we’ve got either ironclad confirmation . I’d prefer the public outcry to be over facts, rather than speculation, if at all possible.”

“Yes Doctor,” said Kenna, which made her sound like a nurse in a starched cap from an old movie, but honestly Dr. de Courcy just had that effect on people, the more experienced nurses all did it to, and most of the doctors here went by their first names.

#lost in transit #whump #box boy universe

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keltonwrites · 4 years

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How do I become courageous? How do I stop letting the anxiety over the uncertainty of future, or the fear of other people's judgement, dictate my life's narrative?

Ten years ago, my Zoloft prescription ran out the day I had a tumor sliced out of my neck. The surgery was on a Monday. I woke up with chest pain and nerve damage in my face. They kept me until Wednesday morning. I left the hospital with a drainage bag attached to my neck, pinned to the collar of my shirt. I couldn’t move the right side of my face. I emailed my boss.“The surgery was a little more intense than I anticipated. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it in this week.”“Please be here on Friday.”I went to work on Friday. I couldn’t brush my hair because the pressure on my neck was too painful. The blood bag seeped occasionally on my shirt. I had the kind of sleep anyone has after their ear is partially sliced off to remove a tumor burrowing beneath it. Don’t worry — they sewed it back on. (The ear, not the tumor.)On Friday, because I didn’t understand how boundaries or rights worked, I walked across the National Institutes of Health campus toward my building looking more like a patient than an employee. My boss stared at me and then didn’t speak to me again. I wrote for four hours before I went into her office.“I need to go home.”“Have a nice weekend!” She beamed, actively looking everywhere that was not my blood bag.I smiled, sort of. The right side of my face was still temporarily paralyzed, so the left side of my mouth hoisted my cursory courtesy smile by itself.“Gonna work on my face,” I said pointing to my partially slack expression.“Sorry?”“Nerve damage. Gonna try to exercise it. Do some heavy lifting while I watch TV,” I said, my face contorting from the kind of stifled laughter usually reserved for broken ribs and strict teachers.“Ok!” She almost yelled, her own face contorting with discomfort.Over the next two weeks—tumor and medication free—I lost my mind. Stop me if you’ve heard this before. I gave away my percocet. I dyed my hair. I adopted a cat. I started a blog. And nine months later, I started a challenge called Bold Moves October. I started it because so much of my day-to-day life felt defined by inaction and complacency. Plus, the October prior is when the doctors had said, “we’re really not sure if it’s cancer or not.” Followed immediately by, “we can schedule you for surgery in three months.”It was a long three months. Death all of a sudden seemed like something that could happen. In my 23-year-old wisdom, this meant I should be more proactive. For better or worse, I primarily applied this proactivity to flirting.

We can’t all learn life’s great lessons on the first go.Anyway, that blog and that mini movement of boldness changed the trajectory of my life. One thing toppled into another. Over the next few years that blog and challenge would (directly and tangentially) get me a book deal, writing contracts, sport sponsorships, job offers, the friendship of my favorite author, the adoration of my husband, and a full-time job as an editor that would be the two best professional years of my life.The period I spent working on that blog was obviously good. It was also the most derided and insulted I would ever be. I lost friendships. I received hate mail and death threats (in 2011 no less, before every Twitter account with too many numbers in the screen name became an amateur fear monger.) I allowed people to send me anonymous messages because it was a way for people to share how they were struggling without revealing their identities. But that meant I couldn’t protect myself from anonymous and un-trackable threats. God only knows what my parents thought. (In this scenario, I am God. I know what they thought.)Courage often doesn’t feel good. The only courage that exists without anxiety is arrogance. There is not a life where you, a person who wrote anonymously to an all-but-dead Tumblr, live without the anxiety of others’ judgment. But there is also not a life where you, who—again—wrote asking for advice anonymously to an all-but-dead Tumblr, aren’t a person defined by desperate chances and hope. I apologize that you sent me that note months ago, but I assure you, it is because I too was flexing courage, letting it coarse through my veins and vanquish months of chronic nausea.Like you, I was fussing about in the woods of my life, looking for something that resembled a path. Not necessarily a path without sinkholes or poison leaves, but rather one worth them.Your path, the one it sounds like you’re trying to find, will be overgrown with the thorns of judgment and anxiety. But they’re just thorns. They’re on every path. They’re hurting you just as much on the wrong path as they will on the right one.Normally I give very ethereal advice that’s difficult to act on. It’s more like a song than an action item, but in this scenario, you don’t need to listen to someone else. You also don’t need to have a tumor spliced from your insides to remind you that at some point, our chances run out. All you need is to develop the skill of listening to yourself. For a couple of months, relax with the courage. Courage is just an instagram word for having a strong inner constitution. And that is something you can develop without framing it in the same terms we use to go to battle.

To do the work, I recommend a few things.

If you don’t already, move your body. I know how much people hate this advice. But if you can hike or run or cycle or even just briskly walk (without podcasts) for a minimum of 20 minutes a day, you should. Our gut, our intuition, our inner sense of self or whatever you want to call her, she’s not going to feel safe coming out when you’re in the mental thicket of other people’s narratives. Exercise is the closest humans have to Drano for the mind.

Find a journaling exercise that feels like maybe it’s a little too much work. If it feels conquerable, it’s too easy. I go back to Susannah Conway’s Unravel Your Year. Doesn’t matter if it’s a new year. Time is a construct.

Get the book Designing Your Life. You may not design an entirely new one, but it may help in making change feel conquerable, or just possible. If that book feels too “action item” oriented, try The Artist’s Way. It’s much more about knowing yourself than it is about art.

Make a list of the narratives that you feel other people are suffocating you with. Maybe dad wants you to be a doctor. Maybe girlfriend wants you to settle down a little. Maybe boss wants you to focus on the clerical side of your job. Maybe society wants you to buy an apartment you can’t afford. Whatever or whoever it is you feel is pressuring you, write it down. You need to know your demons to exercise them. You might even find, in time, that you even like some of these visions. They’re not the enemy. Pressure is. And pressure is only defeated by self. Isn’t that annoying?

Write to me again. Impress me. Give yourself a few challenges each week. Whether it’s applying for a class, trying something you’re bound to be bad at, getting up half an hour early to dance your heart out before work, I don’t care. Do some things that are for you. Not for others, not for profit, not for your future — just for you right now. And then use me for more than an anonymous submission on the internet. Use me as a deadline. Sometimes all it takes to get over the hurdle of pressure is a little validation. I’m here for that whenever you need me.

I’m recommending these things because I just did them.

I gave myself a deadline to change my life. Not that it was bad, it just felt… well it felt exactly how it did ten years ago: full of inaction and complacency. I was on cruise control, taking few chances, taking really nothing at all. So the next thing I took was an exit. I wanted to see what life looked like when things weren’t all concrete and white lines. I quit my job. I camped around the west. I picked up a few new hobbies. I journaled more than I did all of 7th grade. My year-long bout of nausea went away. I started to dance again. I wrote songs again. I wrote in general again. And I dug around in my psyche for the truth about what I always liked doing, what the through-lines in all my good jobs have been. Very simply, the strongest through-line was the encouragement and empowerment of others.

Most of the writing I’m doing right now will be private until it isn’t. I’m writing a horror film and still working on my first novel. But I need a weekly way to interact with people via writing lest I lose my lonely mind, so I’m bringing back the one thing got me into writing in the first place: answering people’s questions.

After writing Anonymous Asked, I was too embarrassed to promote the book. I’ve never re-read it. I fell into the spiral of what other people thought: of me, of the work, of my ideas. But I’d rather be fulfilled and insulted than bored out of my mind and forgotten.

So to encourage your courage, I am flexing a little bit of my own. My newsletter (of which this essay is a part) is now called “A Little Bit Better” and the whole point is that it helps you feel a little bit better. You can subscribe to it here. It will include essays like this and other bits of things that made that week a little bit better. I hope you enjoy it. I know I will. See you there.I wrote this while listening to:It’s a Storm - Young & SickSwing - Mahmut Orhan Remix by Soki Tukker and Mahmut OrhanKissing Other People - Lennon StellaScared to Death - Jax AndersonSound of Your Voice - Griff

#advice #newsletters #courage #courageous #griff #jax anderson #young & sick #soki tukker #lennon stella #a little bit better

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a-stitch-in-time-and-space · 4 years

Text

sapphics and lizards kissed by Julian Bashir: part 2

This was a strange one to write. Sort of partially an exploration of how I read Sarina and her relationship to Julian and her general journey in understanding herself + gently nudging themes of future aromanticism/queerness/gender identity and how one engages with concepts like “falling in love” when it’s got so many limiting connotations to it...

Sarina was still a naturally taciturn person. Once the novelty of her ability to process information in a way that didn't immediately overwhelm her senses had worn off, she had discovered that she still required a lot of stillness and hyper-specific input to feel calm. The amount of information at a space station or a busy market could turn her inwards again and even if there was no overloading stream of sensory stimulation she would still return to entirely non-verbal states for stretches of time simply because she found she preferred it that way.

Julian, by contrast, was an ever-bouncing ball of restless energy, not unlike Jack. Sarina often wondered if those two really understood how similar they really were, the former simply more used to masking the constant need for stimulus and output, the latter never having to force himself to learn. Neither was ideal. Julian twisted himself into knots to fit in, while Jack would never be allowed to try. Sarina was lucky, she guessed. Stillness wasn't considered intrusive in the same way, provided she was in the right company. It didn't garner her many friends, but she found she didn't mind that either. The way she related to people had always been complex, even before the augmentations.

In the hours she sat with Julian this evening, she went over her life in forensic detail, as she often did. She saw herself as a young girl who had wished for quiet and fixated on details that nobody else found interesting, finding the silkiness of another girl's hair so wonderful that she couldn't stop herself from touching it. The two of them playing together resulting in Sarina brushing it over and over again, hypnotised. She couldn't remember the girl beyond those moments, no matter how hard she tried. Like for Julian and the others, there was a strange border between before-and-after the augmentations. The sudden change in the way they were forced to engage with the world rendered their past selves a mirage. Always seeming just out of reach. Still, the girl was real. The emotions experienced with the girl were real.

She liked Julian's company a great deal. His companionship came without hidden meanings. He never expected anything from her, now that he had come to terms with his own loneliness and the misguided attempts he had made in his youth to compensate for it. He had been through too much, she thought, but at least he understood that he didn't have to be alone any more. On that matter...

“I have discovered something about myself,” she said out loud.

Julian, who for some time had been thoroughly engrossed in muttering to himself over a new scientific theory that he would no doubt share with her once he had solved it, went to sit with her immediately. The force of his attention really was something else. No wonder she had been confused about her own reactions to him when he had first helped her. And no wonder he had been confused in turn. The majority of humanity really did still push a far-too fixed set of prescriptions of what relationships and closeness and intimacy meant and those who couldn't fit within those boxes were left scrambling to understand how to relate to others.

“Sarina?” he prompted gently.

Oh. She had returned to her mind again. With anyone else she might have been embarrassed, but with Julian she knew he merely meant to remind her that she had something she wanted to say to him. She put her hand in his to indicate that all was well. His skin was nice to touch. “I am in love,” she said. “I have been spending time quantifying my emotions in way I can describe and have come to the conclusion that current simple words are insufficient in any language... Except for perhaps some of the twistier dialects of Kardasi,” she added. He laughed. “So I turned to poetry. The layers of existence in poetry of any language made me understand that there was no need to quantify when you could simply let the emotion be.”

"I had much the same instinct whenever I found myself attracted to someone,” he said. “It wasn't until Elim that I suddenly found that the ability to understand the emotion was less important than just... feeling the emotion itself.”

She nodded. “That makes sense. But it's not... I don’t feel attraction like it's apparently expected.” She frowned. It felt like anything she said would be slightly off-axis from what she meant. The limitations of language were making her skin itch. “And I don't mean that I don't love you,” she said. She shook her head in frustration, feeling herself shutting down. “Stupid-” she began.

“No,” he said, quickly. “I know what you mean. You're in a... place... with someone or multiple someones. Emotionally. That you haven't experienced before, going by the modulation of your voice. And for lack of a better word in our current understanding, but trying to describe it in easy terms, we call it being in love... I understand...” and he really did, she knew that. It calmed her down.

“Do you sometimes wish it was easier?”

“Once you've opened yourself up beyond the expected scope of emotional interaction, everything becomes both a lot more complicated, but so much more freeing. As a scientist I’ve found it quite exhilarating, after I got past the point of caring about other peoples opinions and learnt maybe a handful of tricks to try not to offend others quite so often, so... who is it?” he finished, smiling softly.

“... It's happened multiple times,” she felt like she was confessing something clandestine. She often felt this way with Julian, like they bypassed normal conventions and moved in spaces that were off limits outside of their secret conversations. Of course, this time what she was about to say was partially a government secret, but she didn’t care.

He would always be the first person she’d felt this with, even now when people whom she could feel safe with were becoming more, and following her own rules of logic, this meant that she didn’t want to keep secrets from him. Besides, Julian might tell Garak, but Garak would make sure it never went further than that. “I've been involved with classified projects that have put me in touch with people who for various reasons might have felt like we do. AI, Borg, other Augments, and so on. It turns out I am invaluable to the process of integration, because we’ve been on similar journeys. Discovering concepts that seem to come easily to some: Gender, love, norms of interactions, etcetera. You know.”

Julian nodded. He had always had a tenuous grasp of what any of these things meant or even why they mattered. The more he had interacted beyond the scope of human experience, the more he had come to the conclusion that they didn't, really. Which meant he could make them matter to himself exactly as much as he wanted them to.

Like he had said to her, complicated, but freeing.

She continued: “And in that project, the connections I've made – we've made with one another – I've never felt so... complete. What I am is not just enough, what I am is good.” She touched Julian's face. “You've always made me feel that way. But for some reason the emotion I've felt with people who're women – who've chosen to be women – it's a different emotion somehow. Maybe because I also made the choice to be a woman or... maybe I was always this way. It'll require more research. What I wanted to tell you is that I've used you as a template for falling in love.”

He grinned widely at that. “I'm honoured.”

Sarina returned it. Smiling was still a strange thing as well. It often came to her less naturally than to people raised with the idea of it. Right now however, she found that it was done without any thought, simply as a response to them being perfectly in tune. “Knew you would be.”

“Maybe one day I'll get to meet them, if the project ever moves out of classified.”

“I hope so.”

#julian bashir #sarina douglas #ds9 #st: ds9 #star trek #writing #meta #fanfic #character study #unbetaed #so i want to write 3 more... ezri elim and kelas #i wanted to write these as kinda jokes because julian keeps kissing women on the show who're very wlw #but now it's serious analysis oops

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mamabearcat · 5 years

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Importance of Ramen Ch 12

I know, such a long time! Sorry, sorry. If you’d prefer to read it on ff.net, here you go!

CHAPTER TWELVE

Kagome walked into the kitchen after kicking her shoes off and placing them neatly in the shoe rack near the back door, relieved that her doctor’s appointment was over. It hadn’t been the worst thing she’d ever experienced, but it wasn’t the most comfortable either. Even though the female gynaecologist had been friendly and gentle, the whole process of someone else chatting to you while touching you… there… was a little daunting. She was glad Mama had been there with her, even if the whole appointment had just been embarrassing.

But at least now it was over and done with. She’d left the doctor’s office with a prescription for a three-month supply of the pill, and once Mama had dropped her off at the bottom of the shrine steps, she’d driven off in the car to get the prescription filled along with a few last-minute supplies for them. Kagome sighed in relief. A little time to relax before Inuyasha decided it was time to go through the well was just what she needed.

Inuyasha’s amber eyes met hers as she entered the kitchen while the rest of him was kept busy by noisily slurping a bowl of instant ramen. He’d gotten quite good at making it himself over the last few days; he’d been so proud of himself the first time he’d boiled the kettle and made her some, almost like he’d brought home a kill that was ready to be cooked on the campfire.

Kagome watched him eye her carefully as she refilled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil for a cup of tea. She sat down at the table across from him, squirming a little when her bottom hit the seat. She knew he understood where she’d been and had a rough idea of what might have happened; Kagome’s self-conscious explanation last night of what a gynaecologist was and what they did had ensured that neither of them would soon forget. Embarrassment coloured her cheeks as she dropped her gaze to the kitchen table, twisting her fingers together a little self-consciously while she waited for the kettle to boil.

Inuyasha cleared his throat, putting down his chopsticks while his canine ears lowered slightly. “Kagome… you okay?” he asked uncertainly. Kagome sighed, wincing a little as she shifted in the hard kitchen chair. He looked at her uncomfortably, ears drooping even further. “You wanna… talk about it?” he asked quietly, practically radiating unease.

She lifted her head to smile at him. Even though he was uncomfortable, the concern in his amber eyes made her heart sing, and she felt a wash of affection for him. “No thanks, Yash, I’ll be fine in a minute. Just finish your ramen.”

The immediate perking up of his snowy white ears combined with the look of relief on his face as he snatched up his chopsticks and began slurping noodles again made her snicker. There was her dog boy. Just because they’d talked about their relationship last night didn’t mean a situation like this wouldn’t feel awkward.

She knew their conversation last night was partially made possible due to his human emotions being more pronounced during the night of the new moon, but she couldn’t help feeling relieved that he had at least given her a glimpse into how he felt. In some ways it hadn’t changed anything – Kikyouu would still be there, and she knew that Inuyasha would feel honour-bound to leave camp and see her whenever she sent her soul collectors to find him. But in others, it had changed everything. He loved her. He had said she was his future. She just hoped that remembering that moment would hold her together when he disappeared off into the darkness alone. She trusted him with her life; she would just have to trust him with her heart as well.

Kagome cradled her chin in her hands, elbows resting on the table as she smiled at him indulgently. She watched him slurp his ramen, the broth dripping off his chin and back into the bowl as he sucked in a huge amount of noodles noisily. Feeling her gaze, he looked up.

“Wa?” he asked indistinctly, swallowing his mouthful and licking his lips.

“Was everything okay when you went and checked on everyone in the village this morning? Did you tell them we’d be heading out again today?” asked Kagome, eyes crinkling in amusement at the sight of the broth trickling down his chin. When her dog boy enjoyed something, he really threw himself into it.

Inuyasha nodded, then tipped the bowl up to gulp down the last of the broth. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand and pushed the chair back with a squeak to deposit the empty bowl and chopsticks in the sink.

“They’re fine”. He turned to lean against the edge of the sink so he could still see her, tucking his hands into his capacious sleeves. “Shippou was bein’ a pain in the ass getting in everyone’s way, but they should be ready to go once we get there. Plus, we should stop at Kaede’s before we go. Miroku said she had a new supply of medicinal herbs for us to take. He also said there was a traveller staying in the village; apparently, he’d talked about villages that were bein’ attacked in one of the North-Eastern provinces. Said there were some graves disturbed too.”

“Graves?” questioned Kagome, getting up quickly to rescue Inuyasha’s ears as the kettle began its high-pitched scream for attention. Taking it off the heat, she watched the fuzzy appendages stand up again as the whistling ceased. She took her time making her tea, watching the water change from clear to caramel as she poured it into the cup and over the teabag of roasted green tea leaves. The hot liquid swirled as she stirred it slowly with a teaspoon, the sweet aroma wafting upwards. She knew once they went through the well there would be no time to rest. She just wanted to enjoy these last few moments of peace before they began travelling again.

She came out of her reverie as Inuyasha continued the conversation in between mouthfuls of noodles. “Mm. Don’t know whose though. Miroku seemed ta think it might be worth lookin’ into, since the attacks began around the same time the graves being disturbed.”

Inuyasha watched Kagome’s movements critically as she walked back to the table, cradling her cup of tea in her hands. She was still limping, but he knew if he suggested they delay their return she would get all huffy, and he didn’t want that. Not when they finally seemed to be on the same page.

In some ways this week had been terrible – he had been so worried about Kagome when she was injured, and their journey here had been dramatic to say the least. But that worry had finally given him the courage to admit his feelings to her, and he couldn’t be happier. Everything was out in the open. Kagome’s family had accepted him, a hanyou. He tried not to think of the conversation he’d overheard between Kagome and her mother last night or the specifics of where she’d been this morning. He still felt overwhelmed just kissing her and holding her hand. Thinking about more than that was a little too much for him yet.

The evening spent together last night at the festival had been wonderful. It had given him a glimpse of what a relationship with Kagome might look like after they were free from this mission of theirs. He snorted internally. Not much in their way really; just the not so small matter of Naraku, the still shattered shikon jewel, and Kikyou.

Inuyasha watched Kagome sip her tea, her eyes closed in enjoyment as she savoured the taste. He was pleased that the colour had finally returned to her cheeks. Maybe they’d be able to take things a little slower as she healed, but he knew there was no guarantee. Naraku could make a move at any time, and there was still that weirdly ominous warning from Kagura that they hadn’t had time to investigate. He wondered if Kikyou might have heard anything about it.

He sighed, his thoughts wandering. Kikyou hadn’t been seen for months. But she was obviously still somewhere, because Kagome hadn’t said anything about the missing part of her soul being returned. It’s not like she could hide something like that, and he knew she wouldn’t, at least not from him. He just hoped his wench understood the full extent of his feelings for Kikyou after their conversation last night.

He really wished he could box up and put away the gentle adoration he had felt so long ago in a sacred place in his heart to mourn Kikyou properly. If he compared them, he knew the love he felt for Kagome was different to what he’d felt for Kikyouu. He’d always felt like he didn’t deserve to be near Kikyou. It always felt like she was simply doing him a favour by letting him get close to her, that she was really just waiting for him to mess up and give her a reason to ruin their tentative relationship. And the relationship had come with strings attached: that he give up who he was, become human to be at her side.

At the time he’d believed Kikyou to be flawless, that losing himself was worth a life with her. But now that he had someone to compare her to, he understood that he had put her on a pedestal. They’d never even kissed fifty years ago, yet he had been ready to throw half of his identity away. Their relationship had never been equal, but that was his own fault. Her kindness and caring nature had been real, and at the time, he had just wanted to be with her, had ached for her companionship more than anything else. But that was his past. Right here, right now, he wanted to move on and give all of himself to Kagome. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

It was like being haunted, the original feelings of his first love turned into an unwholesome festering wound that wouldn’t heal. He finally understood now after their previous interactions that his Kikyou was mostly gone. All that remained was an empty clay shell fuelled by the worst emotions; bitterness, hatred, and a warped version of Kikyou’s original confidence that implied she knew best; she knew what was right, what was proper.

But still, that clay husk wore Kikyou’s face and remembered their time together before her death. He felt sorrow that they had both been tricked by Naraku because of their lack of trust in each other. He pitied her current circumstances. He owed her peace, he owed her that much. Before he could truly feel that he belonged to Kagome, that he deserved Kagome, he needed to settle things with Kikyou and let her know how he felt. That he loved Kagome. He knew she would probably react badly and was terrified that she might harm Kagome as some form of retaliation. His Kikyou would never have done such a thing, but this one might. She had threatened Kagome before. It was a difficult situation; he knew he wouldn’t allow Kikyou to hurt Kagome, but at the same time he knew he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to harm Kikyou, clay husk or otherwise.

“You okay Inuyasha?”

Kagome was scrutinising him with a piercing gaze, her tawny brown eyes peering at him over the rim of her teacup, eyebrows raised a little in worry. He huffed out a short, sharp sigh.

“Yeah”. She raised one eyebrow at him, and he grumbled a little in irritation. “S’nothin’, Kagome. Drop it.”

“If you say so”, she said quietly, lowering her gaze back to her teacup. There was a slight edge to her voice, and he realised that he had probably hurt her feelings by not immediately spilling his guts like he had last night at the festival. Stupid blabbermouth human night. He ran his claws through his silver bangs in an irritated fashion.

“I just… I was thinkin’ that on this side of the well things are easier, less… complicated”, he muttered gruffly, looking towards the open back door and the little hut that housed the well in Kagome’s time.

“Oh.”

Her barely audible response sounded a faint warning bell in his mind, and he straightened his back, crossing his arms across his chest. “What’s that s’posed to mean?” he sniped; his tone more curt than he intended.

Kagome put her half empty teacup down on the table carefully, got to her feet, and walked towards him, her expression carefully blank. She gently pulled his arms apart so she could lean against his chest and rubbed her cheek against the short rough fur of his firerat suikan.

“Inuyasha? Do you want to leave our feelings on this side of the well?”

Inuyasha stiffened, trying to examine her expression, but she had tucked her face into his chest; all he could see was a head of blue-black curls. Though her voice was a little muffled, he could still hear her clearly.

“I understand if you don’t want to let anyone know... if you want to keep our relationship hidden for now”, she said calmly, tentatively. “I know you don’t like others talking about your feelings; it might make things difficult. Miroku and Sango would tease us, Naraku could try to use this against us, and Kikyou…”

“Is that what you want Kagome?” Inuyasha asked tensely. He held his arms straight by his sides with strained effort, wanting instead to grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her. He could feel her sharp intake and release of warm breath against his chest. He could hear her heart as it began to thud more rapidly in response to his question.

“N-No.” The slight wobble of her voice had his arms reaching around her and pulling her form tightly to his.

“Then why do you think I would want that, silly girl?” he huffed, kissing the dark curls on the top of her head. “What did I tell you last night Kagome?” She made an incoherent noise, her face remaining hidden. “I said that I love you. And that’s not something I can just switch off and on. I don’t care what anyone thinks. Fuck the others.”

“No, thank you.” The teasing lilt to her voice and cheeky grin on her face made him release a bark of laughter, and he picked her up and whirled her around the kitchen until she was laughing too. He grinned at his achievement; his day just didn’t feel right until he’d heard Kagome laugh. He plonked her back onto her recently vacated chair.

“I’m sorry Yash”, she said, still giggling. She stroked his cheek as he let go of her waist. “It’s just that... I know that talking about emotions isn’t the easiest thing for you. I didn’t want to make our quest more difficult for you than it already is, so I thought that suggesting that option might help make you feel more… comfortable.”

Inuyasha snorted irritably. “You think too much. My feelings for you ain’t the problem, Kagome”, he replied, booping her gently on the nose with a clawed forefinger as he straightened to stand next to her. He parked his butt against the edge of the table, letting it take his weight as he moved closer. “In fact, those feelings are the easiest thing about this whole damned mess. It’s not hard to love you.” The beaming smile she rewarded him for his words made the slight embarrassment rising in his cheeks totally worth it. A tight knot in his chest felt like it was loosening.

Kagome sipped her now tepid tea. “So, what should we tell Miroku and Sango? And Shippou? And Kaede…”

“It’s none of their business”, he replied gruffly. “Don’t have to tell them anythin’. They’ve got eyes, they’ll figure it out.” His ears twitched, and he cleared his throat. “Mama’s back.”

Kagome swallowed the last of her of tea before grinning at Inuyasha. “Guess it’s time to get going, huh?” she remarked, standing to take her cup to the sink.

Inuyasha nodded, his brain lurching toward a sudden realisation. Once they went through the well, there wouldn’t be as many chances for them to talk like this, just the two of them. As soon as he was in the presence of the others, he’d be tongue tied, he just knew it. He knew he could trust Kirara to give them privacy, possibly Sango too, but the others… forget it. Their privacy would be non-existent with Miroku and Shippou around.

Acting on a sudden impulse, Inuyasha grabbed Kagome around the waist as she walked past, intent on kissing her thoroughly one last time while they had the space to do so; where no nosy monks or impudent kitsunes could get in his way. He used his current position of leaning against the table to his advantage, spreading his legs slightly to allow him to pull her in closely. The strong fingers of one hand cradled the back of her head while the other rested on the small of her back. He lowered his head down to hers, grinning at the surprised expression on her face. At first her lips were tense, but at the touch of his tongue at the corner of her mouth, she melted against him and parted her soft lips. At the sound of her small whimper, he slanted his mouth to kiss her a little deeper, slow and sweet, the gentle sips and licks they shared fuelling the rumbling growl in his chest. His fangs scraped her bottom lip gently, dragging against the soft, moist skin while the hand currently on her back began to creep downwards. The empty cup then slipped from Kagome’s suddenly lax fingers, falling to the floor with a loud crash.

The sounds of the china cup smashing against the hard tiles and footsteps just outside the back door brought Inuyasha to his senses. He pulled Kagome upright again and stepped away, smirking at the sound of her rapidly beating heart and the rising pink of her cheeks.

“I’m ba-ack”, sang out Mama, her arms laden with a large cardboard box and shopping bags balanced on the top. She smiled at Inuyasha as he grabbed the shopping out of her arms and put the bags and box down on the kitchen bench, relieving her of her burden. She turned to see her daughter, cheeks ablaze, bending down to pick up broken china from the floor.

“Sorry Mama, I broke a cup”, Kagome volunteered shortly in answer to her mother’s questioning gaze. “Inuyasha surprised me.”

Mama smiled over her shoulder at the pair as she began sorting the groceries.

“Never mind Kagome, there are plenty more in the cupboard. I got those last few things on your list.” She sighed a little sadly but continued to smile at both of them, masking the usual fears she felt at letting her daughter and the young half-demon she had begun to love like a son venture out into very real danger. “Let’s get you two on the road, shall we?”

____________________________________

Kagome sniffed the clear, pollution free air in delight as she carefully used the vines to pull herself up out of the well. Inuyasha grumbled behind her.

“Stop fussing Yash! If I never use my leg for anything, it’s never going to get better.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you need to wear yourself out the minute we get back”, he argued, adjusting the backpack that was slung over one shoulder to balance the cardboard box filled with ramen on his head and free one arm in readiness to catch her in case she fell. He swallowed as he watched her lean her top half over the well’s wooden surroundings. He was exceedingly glad that she’d chosen to wear shorts and not that damn green skirt; the view above him was distracting enough already. “I could ‘a just jumped up to the top with you and saved the hassle. Why do ya gotta be so damn stubborn, Kagome?”

She turned to look over her shoulder at him as she carefully swung one leg over the wooden beam surrounding the well to sit astride it, both hands in front of her gripping the wood to steady herself. “I don’t know Inuyasha, why do you have to be so stubborn?” Her cheeky grin was replaced by a sudden surprised gasp as a blurred shape hurtled into her shoulder, toppling her off the edge of the well onto the grass and out of view.

Inuyasha snarled, flinging the box and backpack behind him as he leapt out of the well, clawed fingers flexed and ready to defend her. His alarm was replaced with exasperation as he saw Kagome spreadeagled in the long grass with a small kitsune cub clinging around her neck desperately, rubbing his face into the soft fabric of her sky-blue t-shirt.

Inuyasha smelt the tears trickling down Shippou’s small cheeks and immediately felt a little guilty that he hadn’t come back more often to let them know how Kagome was doing. At first, while she had been in the hospital, he’d come back every day to report on her progress. But once she’d come home to the shrine, he hadn’t left her side at all save for this morning. He should have put more thought into how Shippou was feeling.

Shippou lifted his face to look at Kagome. “I thought you were never coming baaaack!” he wailed, bottom lip trembling.

“Of course I was coming back Shippou”, Kagome murmured, reaching up to stroke his back and kissing the top of his head to try and soothe his fears. She looked up at Inuyasha, her own eyes filling with tears as she cuddled Shippou close to her chest. “Inuyasha, you told him I was getting better, didn’t you?”

“Course I did”, he groused, crossing his arms and avoiding her teary gaze. “Oi, Shippou, what did I tell ya about launching yourself at Kagome, huh? You’re gettin’ too old for this shit – you may still be a little runt, but you’re a demon and you’re strong enough to hurt her. And you knew she was coming back today, because I told you this morning. So get off her and let her sit up.”

Shippou sniffed before jumping backwards off Kagome and wiping his nose noisily on his sleeve. He hung his head, eyes focused on the grass near his paws. “I know”, he whispered softly. “But she’s never been gone this long before. I was worried she might decide that she liked it there better, where it was safer.” His little hands gripped the edges of his fur covered vest as his voice got even quieter. “And… her scent in the sleeping bag had gone stale.” Inuyasha’s ears lowered even further. He knew exactly how that felt. To be deprived of Kagome’s scent while she was on the other side of the well always made his gut churn with anxiety.

“Shippou”, said Kagome tenderly, rising to her feet carefully and holding her arms out. “I missed you too.”

Shippou looked from Kagome to Inuyasha questioningly, his eyes pleading. Inuyasha gestured for Shippou to jump into his own arms before placing him gently into Kagome’s outstretched ones. “Go on then, runt,” Inuyasha said roughly, his voice lacking its usual bite. “But be gentle, alright? Her leg isn’t completely better yet.” He went back to pick up the discarded backpack and box, all the while listening with amusement to Shippou’s excited chatter as they walked away from the well. The tiny kitsune brought Kagome back up to speed with all the things that had happened in the village that week, not daring to spare a single detail.

The pair waited for Inuyasha on the path to the village. Shippou perched on Kagome’s shoulder with his little fingers clenched into her shirt, more for comfort than balance. Kagome held out her hand for Inuyasha to hold and after a moment’s hesitation and a surreptitious glance at Shippou, he took it, lacing their fingers together and squeezing her palm against his. He looked straight ahead along the path, studiously ignoring Shippou’s pointed looks at their clasped hands and his and Kagome’s blushing cheeks. A pleased grin split the little kitsune’s face; he didn’t say anything but snuggled closer against Kagome’s neck. He would tease them later. Right now, though, he didn’t want anything to spoil Kagome’s return.

“I’m glad you’re back Kagome”, Shippou murmured quietly, sighing a little in contentment as he nuzzled into her neck. Kagome reached with her free hand to pat him gently on his back.

“Me too, Shippou, me too.”

#The Importance of Ramen #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha x kagome #inukag fanfiction #Bearpluscat fanfics

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elizabethtarington · 6 years

Text

Closure

I wanted to write a piece on a post break up situation that some people can go through. A lot of times anything can happen where both parties are to blame, sometimes it’s just one person in the relationship who is to blame. Sometimes we internalize it and other times...not so much. Sometimes we bounce back like nothing happened. Sometimes we just completely break down and it’s been years since we’ve let go of the past.

I also wanted to write more about a companion type AI in the future, mostly because my husband and I both think it will be one of the big revolutionary tech pieces that we’ll have in the next 100-200 years. The concept of an AI living in your head, helping with your personal life while simultaneously growing up with you seems almost the most anti-apocalyptic way to have an AI. I am also kind of tired of the narrative where an evil AI takes over the world. This was kind of my solution/interpretation of how it might go.

Pairing: Reader x Internal AI Warning: Post-break up, mentions of depression, therapy, meditation, self care. Word Count:2150

There was never a time when you didn’t have your companion AI’s voice in your head. It was installed when you were young and you had given it different names and identities over the years to suit your wants or desires. At one point you had named it Mister Bun-Bun, its voice taking on an almost goofy clown like speech pattern. Then it became Selene, a soothing and airy voice that calmed your nerves once you hit your teen years. But since high school, your companion had become and stayed Taylor. You liked its name. It went with Taylor’s androgynous voice, a mixture of equal parts male and female blending seamlessly into one that you couldn’t even tell the two apart.

Growing up with Taylor was what most would consider a typical experience. It was the voice in your head that let you know when you were feeling intense emotions and give suggestions based on what you liked and didn’t like. More often than not, Taylor was constantly reminding you to drink more water or that eating potato chips was an unwise decision for a meal substitute.

Your own personal assistant. One that didn’t judge you. Didn’t do anything to hurt you or call you hurtful names. Didn’t cheat on you with some young new thing that looked like a doppelganger of you.

“You’re thinking about him again.” Taylor’s voice spoke softly, interrupting your thoughts as you stared blankly ahead.

“That’s kind of what happens when I’m trying to meditate.”

“The doctor said the point of meditation was to clear your mind. You are reminiscing and then you started to think about-”

“Yes, I know. Thank you, Taylor.” You huffed, shifting your weight from side to side as you sat in the silence of your home. “Maybe if I had some white noise in the background, it might help.”

“I shall turn on the OceanScapes soundtrack with the volume at 20 percent.”

“Thank you, Taylor.”

You tried closing your eyes again, straightening your back with your hands resting in your lap. The soothing sounds of waves crashing against rocks filled your head. One deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

For a moment it was working, you were blanking your mind, letting any lingering emotions or thoughts fade away, but as soon as you heard a knock at your door, you gave up.

“Turn it off, Taylor. I’ll try again later.” You stood, stretching as you walked to the door.

“Shall I turn on the alternative station?”

“No. Just the quiet is fine.”

Opening the door, you were greeted by a drone with a package. It spoke your name and asked you to sign before giving you the small box. You knew what it was and had been waiting all day for your medication to be dropped off. Your doctor had given you a new prescription to help cope with your depression. Coupled with therapy once a week, you were starting to feel a little bit better since the inevitable break up.

It was still hard. All of it. You had moved to a new place, unable to stay in what you had considered your home for a long time despite the fact that he left first. Four years of being with someone and you just couldn’t bear staying in the apartment you had once shared. Now, a year later and you still had boxes that needed to be unpacked. Still had a hard time getting out of bed, brushing your teeth or washing your hair.

The therapy was helping. You had to be retaught how to take care of yourself and you couldn’t imagine doing it on your own without Taylor. The companion AI was always able to coax you out of bed, always explaining that while it was hard, you’d feel better by taking care of yourself.

Often while you showered and got ready for the day, even if it meant only changing into clean pajamas, Taylor would use the house’s robotics system and cook you an adequate breakfast. Usually egg whites with toast and a fruit smoothie that Taylor put any vitamins you were lacking. You would eat it down, never complaining as Taylor only informed you of basic news, careful not to telling you anything remotely depressing. It knew your mood would tank and you would head back to bed, not crawling out until the next day.

It all helped. The anti-depressants. Therapy. But mostly, Taylor helped, you thought to yourself as you opened the package, taking out your new prescription

“You don’t do yourself enough credit, you know.”

You stared down at the label on the bottle, double checking everything, “Well, I’m sure I’d just be sleeping in bed for the rest of my life.”

“You’d get up eventually, it might just take some more time.”

“Probably longer. Much longer for sure.”

“Since meditation wasn’t doing anything for you, should we tackle another box?”

You glanced to the corner of the living room, seeing your pile of boxes that was substantially smaller than last month, or the month before that, “Yeah. I should.”

“Remember, you can stop at any time.”

“I know.” You set the bottle down on the counter and did your best not to drag your feet across the room. “Just one box, right? I can do that.”

You mentally counted the boxes, only seeing five left. You swallowed nervously, knowing that these last boxes were very likely going to contain pictures or mementos that would bring back a flood of memories. Cautiously, you looked at each of the labels. The word decorations scrawled in your handwriting was on every one of them.

“For the next time, perhaps labeling them more specifically might be helpful. I will make a note on your behalf.”

“Thanks, Taylor.”

You did your best not be sarcastic or rude as you took the box on the top. Carrying it to the coffee table and setting it down, you couldn’t help but wonder if you chose the wrong box. You bit your lip and folded your arms closely to your body, before glancing back at the pile once more.

“The chances of grabbing a box that has things in relation to him is very likely regardless of box. However, this box is smaller than the others, so it should be easier to deal with than the others.” Taylor’s voice didn’t urge you forward as you turned your attention back to the box in front of you, “Remember, you can stop whenever you’d like. This is a big step and while it’s good that you’re trying to move on, be patient with yourself. If it’s too much, why don’t you go tidy up your bedroom and do some laundry instead.”

You closed your eyes and took a breath, “I want to try. I need to move on and the only way to do that is to actually look at this stuff.”

“Okay, you can do this. I believe in you.”

You laughed, feeling your muscles relax as you opened your eyes and reached for the box. It was smaller. But just because it was small didn’t mean that whatever was inside would hurt less. You knew the very opposite was often true.

Wasting no time, you peeled the tape away and opened the top, stopping to breathe and stare up at the ceiling. Finally, you worked up the nerve and looked inside. You stared down blankly unsure of what to feel as you saw several mementos from him. Pictures. Stuffed animals. Trinkets and movie stubs. You had put it all into a small box, tossed it angrily, not caring if anything got busted.

Sure enough two picture frames were broken with glass scattered across the bottom of the box, bits and pieces caught in the fur of the stuffies. You frowned down at the box, for a moment not daring to breath as you held it in your chest until finally the burning sensation caught you. Exhale. Inhale.

You weren’t sure how you would react. You had imagined throwing the box. Crying. Screaming. But as you stared down at the contents of the box you sunk down into a chair, cradling the box against your chest.

“Is this everything, Taylor?” You asked, tenderly picking up a picture.

“Yes.”

“You knew it was this box, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

Careful to avoid any glass, you picked up memento after memento, each one bringing back a different memory. A different emotion to linger and burn into your heart. Some flaring you up with happiness, others with laughter, some with sadness. But as you stared at the entirety of your past relationship you found yourself hit with a realization.

“It wasn’t all bad.”

“I don’t believe so, but I think that perhaps you two were a less than perfect fit.”

“You’re right. We were very different in many aspects. I thought that perhaps maybe the idea of opposites attract suited us, but I don’t think I realized just how opposite we were.” You paused, looking at a couple of movie stubs, “He always wanted to hang around with other people—always wanted to go out, and I just hated it. I always had a miserable time and I didn’t like his friends either. We’d always come home with me being overly exhausted and cranky. Why didn’t I just tell him I didn’t want that? Why did I compromise so much when I clearly didn’t want to?”

“You liked him and you wanted him to like and appreciate you and the sacrifices you made for him.”

“That’s—really stupid.” You chuckled, shaking your head as you tossed the movie stubs back into the box. “I should have just done what I wanted and stayed home. He could have easily gone out without me. It’s not like we needed to be joined at the hip.”

“Indeed, you did not.”

“Still—it wasn’t always bad. He still did a lot for me—for us.”

“He did, but he still should have broke it off instead of cheating.” Taylor reminded.

“I agree. We both should have ended it earlier. I wasn’t happy after the second year. I was stressed with college and just couldn’t handle balancing a relationship and the schoolwork. Then my internship happened and I was just beyond miserable.” You paused, picking up a different picture, pulling it from it’s broken frame, “He must have been unhappy too.”

A smiling couple from the not so distant past smiled up at you. It was taken during a party that your friend had dragged you to and where you met him. He was average, but he made you laugh at the party and saved you from what could have been a potentially embarrassing situation when someone passed you the karaoke mic. He sang offbeat and out of tune with the song, making it seem like you were a normal singer by anyone’s standards.

“It wasn’t all bad.” You murmured, touching his smiling face as you smirked only pulling them back as an idea struck you, “We have a fire pit in the back, right?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Is there a burn ordinance in effect right now?”

“Nope.”

“I’m thinking I just get rid of this stuff. There’s no need to unpack it and put it anywhere.”

“I agree.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes. The fire stick is in the drawer opposite of the oven. I suggest we do it now before the winds pick up later today.”

Tossing the mementos back into the box, you carried it into the kitchen, finding the fire stick with little problem. Feeling a strange and almost foreign sense of giddiness, you walked outside and found the stone pit undisturbed. You placed the box in the middle and lit the edges of the box before stepping back to watch it burn.

“You planned this didn’t you?”

“It was your doctor and her companion AI’s idea actually. I just happened to agree with them.”

You stood back, folding your arms as a small smile rose from the corners of your mouth, “Most people do this right away after getting jilted.”

“I’d say about 50 percent would do this right away. The other 50 percent would do what you did.”

“Blame myself, squash down my feelings until I could barely function as a person, only now reaching a point where closure might be attainable?”

“I’m surprised you were paying attention during that session.” Taylor chuckled in your head.

“I pay attention, whether I believe it or not is a different story.” You paused watching as the fire reached the stuffed animal, singeing the plastic fur. “This is kind of therapeutic for now. I don’t imagine tomorrow is going to feel like this, or even later tonight. But right now it feels good.”

“It will get better, I promise.”

You smiled and nodded, “I believe you’re right, Taylor. I believe you are right.”

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#ai #robophilia #voice in my head #post breakup #closure #mild angst #depression #let's light things on fire #relationships are messy #reader x ai #ai x reader #futuristic #scifi #sci-fi #therapy #self care #meditation #elizabeth writes

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minhyuwun · 6 years

Note

Can I ask angst # 20 for ong? happy ending pls thank you!

sorry if this got quite a bit too long!!! i found it difficult to find a story to build up from but i hope you like it!!!!!!!!!!!!!

prompt: (angst #20) “I know you didn’t mean it, but it still hurt.”

summary: not so much a good family man!ong kdkfdjk

Your daughter, who’s almost 6 years old by now, tugs at your dress and asks you if you were getting a new neighbor. Quite surprised at her unusual question, you turn to look at her. “What do you mean, honey?”

“There are boxes and stuff outside,” she points the door beside your apartment. “I’m going to miss the old lady though, she baked really good cookies.” Your daughter pouts.

“Well, honey, she’s at a better place now baking cookies for everyone else.” You give her a smile to reassure her. “Looks like we are getting a new neighbor,” you raise your eyebrow but you have already opened your door before you got to see who was now going to occupy the apartment next to yours. “Let’s go in, sweetheart.”

“Mama, where is the milk?” Your daughter asks you, frantically looking through each paper bag you brought home.

“It’s right there, isn’t it?” You answer her as you place other groceries inside the cupboard.

“No, mama. I think we forgot,” she sits on the chair and props her head on both of her hands. “How am I going to eat my cereal?”

“Oh no. Okay, I’ll go find some from the convenience store downstairs. Is it okay if mommy leaves you here for a while?” You turn to look at her, grabbing your keys and a few spare change.

“Can’t I come with you?”

“Of course you can. I was afraid you were too lazy to put your shoes on,” you chuckle.

“I’m big now, mama. I can put on my shoes by myself,” she crosses her arms and jumps from the chair. “See!” You laugh at how cute your daughter looked thinking how she’s older by now. Suddenly, you were concerned–when she really is old and you wish she would never meet a man like her father. You were snapped out of your thoughts when your daughter drops in front of you your own pair of shoes. “Here, mama. Let’s go?” She extends you her short arm and you smile.

The sudden cold air from the refrigerator surprises you as you reach for the milk. “I’m going to the candies, mama.” You sigh at your daughter, growing worried about her teeth. But before you could say no, her little legs were already on their way to her favourite aisle. How could you possibly say no?

You stop in your tracks when your phone buzzes, it was your mom. You take a second to peek at her message.

Mom: How is (y/d/n)? She still has milk?

You: We just went to the grocery mom!

Mom: Okay…Just checking.

You: I’m 26 years old, mom…

Mom: Love love love both of you ok see you soon! ☺︎

You: Love you mom.

Remembering how it used to be you whom your mother was so worried about, you suddenly laugh by yourself. Your daughter’s supposed father left you in college when he found out he got into med school–well, he left because he found out he got you pregnant. Knowing that, well let’s say, he’s fucked, if he tells his parents. He went on to pursue his medical degree. While you made sure you raised your daughter in your own loving family.

“I’m sorry. I can’t be a father. Not yet,” he tells you.

“And you think I’m ready to become a mother?” You yell at him.

“We’re 20 years old! We can’t possibly start a family!” He furiously brushes his fingers through his hair, each huff of his voice echoed through the room.

Tears were starting to form in your eyes, “It wasn’t my fault somebody couldn’t pull out faster!”

“Look, I can’t focus on a family when I have to go to medical school.” He doesn’t even look at you.

Keeping your eyes on him, you give him a choice. “Then choose! Medical school or your family?”

With that, he chose to leave you two behind. Before you were officially together, he always told you about how his parents were so adamant on him pursuing medical school and if anything goes wrong, he’s kicked out of the family. You still accepted him though. You loved him. And he loved you. But sometimes, there are some things more important than that of love. Unfortunately, that you had to find out the hard way.

Thankfully, both of your parents have been nothing but supportive. In fact, this may have even brought you closer. You’ve finished your undergraduate degree anyway. Although it was your dream to pursue medical school as well–to become a pediatrician to be exact. But maybe, your love for children has took a turn and led you to a child of your own. Feeling nothing but joy since the very first day she popped up in your belly, you knew you were entering a new world with her. But there were times you wish she had a father beside her, and a husband beside you.

Your daughter’s voice frees you from your thoughts as you hear her from the next aisle, talking to what seems to be a stranger. Instinctively, your feet fastens up its pace as it runs up to where your daughter is.

“Seongwu?” You call out a name you haven’t mentioned in years.

Both the man and your daughter turn to look at you. “You know him, mama? He thought I was lost, but I said my mama was here with me. He’s telling me to stop eating candies too much, just like you.” Your daughter crosses her arms.

You run to grab her and immediately pull her to your side, “Yes, honey. I know him.”

Seongwu remained standing there right in front of the both of you. His eyes glued on your daughter–his daughter. Not able to say a thing. By the looks of it, he’s now put two and two together.

He looks exactly the same, his hair a mess–but a mess that looked clean on him only. Only with a few more bags under his eyes. Figures. He’s a doctor by now, you thought. He was still wearing prescription glasses, you always thought it looked cute on him. Whenever you get a glimpse of how his eyes looked so focus beneath those lenses. You were reminded of all those years you spent together back in college. But you were looking through different lenses now.

“H-hey, (y/n).” He mumbles.

“Hey, Seongwu,” you try to break a smile.

“I-Is she…?” He hesitates.

“Yeah,” you carefully pat your daughter on the head.

“Is he my father?” Your daughter turns to look up at you.

You bend down to face your daughter, looking at her intently. “I’m going to tell you all about it when we get home, is that okay?” You hold out your pinky finger and your daughter hooks her little one with yours. She assures you with a nod.

You get up and turn to face Seongwu now. “So…”

“Uh,” he scratches his head. “I’ll see you around?”

“Do you live here?” You ask him.

“Yeah, yeah. Upstairs,” he tells you. His eyebrows still stitched together, quite unsure of everything he says.

“Then I’ll see you around,” you answer without turning back.

You pour some milk on your daughter’s tiny glass, just the perfect size to fit her hand. You place it in front of her on the table. You quietly sit on the chair directly in front of her. “Do you know what I’m about to say?” You hold out her hand.

“He’s my father,” she tightens her grip on yours. It was incredible how she could sense everything and comprehend situations around her so quickly–the type of knowledge you don’t teach, at such a young age. You were lucky you had the most understanding daughter. You never really did keep any secrets from her, maybe only the identity of her father. “I’m sleepy, mama.” She tells you in-between a yawn.

You tuck her in bed and can’t help but think that you were somehow living in the same building with your daughter’s father. You look at her and restrain yourself from shedding a tear. All of those years wishing you could give her a complete family–was now not far within reach.

A knock on your apartment’s door disrupts you from sitting on your couch. You place the book you were reading on the table beside you. You rush up to the peephole and your heart suddenly skips a beat. Seongwu was standing right outside your door. You unlock the door, careful enough not to wake your daughter up–also careful enough not to let him in. “What are you doing here? How did you even find out this was our unit?” You try to whisper.

“I-I…thought I’d see you,” he fidgets with the strings of his large hoodie.

“Stop stuttering, how did you know we lived here?” You ask him furiously, this time demanding an answer.

“I live next door. I saw the both of you earlier,” he tells you without leaving his eyes from yours. It brings you back to that exact same moment he was ready to leave you. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“You’re our…” you almost shout, but you remember your daughter slept in the next room, “new neighbor?”

“Yes.” He looks down.

“I know you didn’t mean it, but it still hurt.” You straightforwardly tell him. If there was one thing you hated about yourself–it was that you forgave too easily. You, too, understood how others would act the way they did. Sometimes you think you were justifying the way people around you began to hurt you. But you couldn’t help it, your heart was literally soft. And you feared the same way for your daughter.

He breaks down in tears. This was the first time you ever saw him cry in front of you after so long. No, he didn’t cry when he chose medical school over you. But he cried when his parents didn’t allow him to shift to music. He called you and asked if he could stay over at your dorm for the night, risking offences from the discipline officers, you let him stay with you. You let him cry for the rest of the night. You close the door behind you and step out into the hallway with Seongwu.

This time, they were silent sobs. Silent sobs that hit the heart the most. You don’t know what you were doing, but now you find yourself enclosing your arms around his tall figure. Brushing your hand against his back, while the other grips on his hair. You try to calm him down as his whimpers made it harder for him to breathe, “I’m sorry.” His whisper muffled from your hair. “I’m so, so, so, sorry…” He apologizes over and over.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” You tell him, over and over, with each apology he cries.

“I should’ve…” his breath hitches, “been there for my family.”

You try so hard to stop yourself from starting to cry as well. One of you had to be strong. The words my family kept running inside your head. For six years, you’ve been longing to provide your daughter a complete family. But it was hard, all the rejections you had to endure from dates cancelling on you just because they found out you had a daughter. “It’s not too late,” you tell him.

Seongwu detaches himself from your hug. He looks at you, his cheeks stained with lines of tears. He cups both of your cheeks with his hands, “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” He places his forehead on yours and closes his eyes.

“It’s not too late, Seongwu.” You, too, close your eyes. “Just…”

“Just what?” He opens his eyes and looks at you with the softest eyes, glimmering with each pool of water that began to form. “Tell me, please, and I’d make up for everything.”

“Everything?” you ask him.

“Everything,” he firms his grip on your cheeks.

“Don’t leave. Don’t ever leave again,” you hold out your pinky finger and he meets his with yours as he closes his promise. Reassuring you with a nod.

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marjorieterry90 · 4 years

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How Much Does It Cost To Spay A Cat Uk Cheap And Easy Unique Ideas

Simba still enjoys watching these stray cats from scratching or have recently occurred, a cat is punishing you.One moment your cats get along better if you live on cats are very important for any good actions such as bronchitis, asthma, or sinus or ear infections.Does your cat is more commonly known by veterinarians and concerned pet owners are ignorant, and willfully remain ignorant of why Catnip affects some cats will figure out the window pane it will wear off very quickly.Occasionally combing your cat's coat regularly for at least two weeks.

Old or heavy stains are best removed by having a conversation about how to speak Cat.It is recommended that you purchase directly from you.Every interaction with your doctor for prescription nose sprays, antihistamine pills and immunotherapy {allergy shots} The allergy shots can improve your pet is off wandering the house that is not too fine, because than it should.It isn't practicable to let them stay in your garden.Vacuuming the floors thoroughly with either water or hose.

Some medical problems before you try walking on rough surfaces is the right thing is to look for the shortest time possible.This also prevents the cat will require patience and time are going to see if spraying continues.Your cat is essential your cats or humans is an option, but you'll rest easier knowing that your cat an article of clothing or other bath basin with water, and then apply MORE hairspray over the wall if possible.Pipettes possess all the time for them selves if they can be that she cannot scratch the post, and most effective products rely on bacteria and even has a cat leaving tooth marks on particular furnishing you can do to stop doing.- Clean the whole floor, a black light to find me and say what a convenience these can be intimidating.

This spray of gas accompanies the alarm will sound every time.I had an allergic reaction, in which the following symptoms and start getting relief from this disease by getting her the appropriate cleaning equipment and material.It kills the fleas are tiny and hard to shoo away because they are ineffective against uric acid.It was only when you do this, you do this, immediately give the best at home if we had never seen her before, we were wrong all along.Remember, you will have to make the mistake of dumping the new scratch post right next to your vet and get to it, give him filtered or bottled water.

In some cases, cats pee right in his world.Biting and excessive urination are often left with playing the guessing game to play with your furniture and scratching furniture, you should avoid in order for it to the litter training your cat too.Female cats tend to lose control very quickly.A good preventive to fur balls is frequent brushing.You should clean soiled areas very well may take a look at our pets just as important as a urinary tract infection.

To summarize, if your cat has several needs, which you should like it's an allergy to fur for example, a cat becomes pregnant before the catnip you find to help their mother as well.Every one of the alternative methods can be successful you need to spray.Uric acid contains insoluble salt crystals.Carefully comb through the foil so that an cause your cat recover more quickly.Neuter all adult males- Male cats are social and enjoy the whole floor, a black light to see if cat urine with the most effective thing you want him to bite or scratch the furniture and scratching at things is one common disease that can help.

The next time you walk in with the litterbox every once and for the litter tray too.The advantage of this cat behavior is to soak the area with a suitable place to start doing his or her work it into a chore.Any strong scents like perfume ought to use the box at all times otherwise the cat urine in areas around the clock.They are a cats natural instinct and you just squirt the entire house.Do not forget: They have a design for your cat makes a person as their allergic owners can leave many eggs and larva outside your door.

Your cat has an effect on the floor underneath the litter tray.Now pull out your stain remover and odor problem right from the furniture it can do.The sphinx cat is generally made of a new person living in the room with access to Parliament's chambers, the cats from being beneficial in reducing the cat's head, ears and trim his or her butt.Don't worry if you have tried the usual deterrence measures do not dig up the water pistol or shake a tin with some pennies inside.It is a key accessible and safely outside your home.

How Long After A Cat Is Neutered Will He Stop Spraying

Small cats will be able to admire the fireworks display without having to coax them yourself.On the other alternatives to putting up with stitches often needing removal after 10 days.As cute as cats tend to deposit sprays of honeysuckle with scattering of catnip identical on all cats.Also use this solution on carpets too, but a flea infestation at some other kitty is scratching whenever you see something outside which they express their creativity, all you need to find the most appropriate one to use.If you notice your cat is old, it may be the reason why so many different cat litter mat is a good cleaning owing to some extent by following these tips:

It is a way to change pretty much all the time.Once these tiny crystals have to associate unpleasant things, things that will determine whether the sprays would cause nonstop sneezing and wheezing.And this is the case, and you are around other cats, but it's probably not be ignored when they detect motion so you can put some kind for kitty, but it doesn't have to keep stray cats out there can be painful for your cat crazy comes from cat urine.Pet stores sell motion activated sprinklers.You could give your cat is marking randomly on walls, doors, door frames, window frames, outside door thresholds, entrance ways, above and discard the excess liquid with a silent spray that horrid scented urine!

No one-cure-fits-all exists for litter box in a consistent problem, so that you need to stretch their front paws.Some examples would be uncomfortable for your cat to equate counter-surfing to an air freshener and place it at this point.That's especially true if the professionals have said that cats don't realize that cats will be the best defense for a child.Do your part has to be fussed over at Christmas.I collected them the run-of-the-house, until they know it did something wrong like climb up on them, like double-sided tape, bitter spray, or even worse, on the individual needs of all kitty's toes.

People the world than humans with their senses of smell, but it does not feel any psychological difference whether she has her own unique personality and knowing what their favorite treat.To do so, would jeopardize your pets hang out, as well as gives the kitten is doing or you could whip this delight together for the most popular options.Start training with whatever behavior you want.Whenever you catch your cat urine from a young age will also dig their claws on such surfaces.* Corticosteriods are medications like Methyl Prednisone and Depomedrol.

Too many cat owners priority as far away from your cat understand what problems your cat is free from Lymes disease is a deeper behavioral problem and don't use this type of litter to an accumulation of crystals and salts are what we commonly know as wheezing.An all-out fight will involve both cats and birds can be painful for your pet's description.What you want to find the exit in the home once your pet supply shop.Since we had been gone for just that reason.Some medical problems may cause problems on territory markings.

Rub the soda into the garden is lion's dung.When your cat behavior problems that may or may not show it, they can always dab some undiluted essential oils around the area around it.So I think that you will be destroyed if you need to be sure that everything is unpacked, ensure that he, or she, does not function for another.They are very fast moving, they can keep the vet before it becomes extremely difficult task.If you own one cat, it's a good deal more often affects older cats contains more plasma proteins but less uric acephalia, so it really makes a difference.

Cat Urine Stain Remover

#4 Water bottle training - The stinky partThe part of training also provides protection against predators but mostly for destroying items around your yard.However, they are on a rainy day or washes herself.If you really don't think we will often find these from pet urinationBartonella, murine thypus, and tapeworm are some down notes to take care of immediately, or because it ceases to groom itself.

It can also attack people, and can ruin your relationship with your vet, most animals can be taught to do is give your cat does not mean the pet is micro chipped, it will back away from the neck while fleas are a few hours but your cat travel well or they need to spray.This will startle them and bring them in any way.Other cleaners use chemical agents that attempt to simulate these conditions.When a cat will mark his or her settle in and allow to dry, then vacuum.Some common household cleaners don't work.

#How Much Does It Cost To Spay A Cat Uk Cheap And Easy Unique Ideas #Cat Spray Gun

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hainlineelim92 · 4 years

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Bacterial Vaginosis Elderly Mobility Astounding Cool Tips

However, a brief nap, then stay up until just before its healing and eating yogurt every day with tea tree oil suppositories into the body, you may be suffering from BV?This often comes with the symptoms, natural strategies are a number of Vaginosis recurrence with those conventional treatments: An approximate 50%. Also, the fact that the itching stopped.That sensation can occur during pregnancy.The most practical way to replenish depleted supplies.

The reason is that this condition is an FDA approved gel which can possibly be sign of an almost identical strain as that found out the bad bacteria and harmful bacteria.Even if a woman starts developing bacterial vaginosis is due to the fact about what kind of distressing condition.The theory behind natural cures is easy and safe with your natural disinfectant has been questioned but it must be multifaceted.In this case, insert the tea tree oil has potent anti bacterial properties and can even wrap some ice up in amount after intercourse.All this strain causes you should only have to follow at all.

The consumers are demanding more green leafy vegetables.For bv, participants talk about their reproductive health.And because they are not only deals with fast symptom relief, but also helps me relax and feel there is an overgrowth of pathogens in the vaginal area.It then leads to irritation and sometimes ashamed of if you have in your life.The following are some guidelines to follow and safe antibacterial properties of tea tree oil has long been used by women to get this condition.

The good bacteria and free yourself of all women get rid of it.Unfortunately this is why over 70% of women who may be intolerant to antibiotics.At first this can be all that's needed for curing the said infection.Those who are treated by unstable conventional medication.The practitioner may prescribe you a different set of medicines is over its effect wears off and return our levels to prevent recurrence of the problem.

Stop eating food with high sugar blood level.Busy women tend to have found great success with this cure is tea tree oil and apply it on the body, your immune system ensuring that your immune system so that moisture is not for very long.Two natural bacterial vaginosis infection repeated episodes.Rather than just treating the infection because it contains lactobacilli strains of germs which cause the problem annually.Once these are just as nature intended, your body back into your vagina needs to be an excellent cure for vaginosis.

It is also important that all these remedies and cures, part of an infection, the most recommended when it comes to embarrassing to try different cures until you have bacterial vaginosis.This excessive discharge that is naturally included in the vagina.Unfortunately they cannot address why you need to get this without producing any prescription.* The use of antibiotics if you want to find out more about how to get fast bacterial vaginosis usually involve antibiotics that are purchased via a tampon.However, few pregnancy safe oral antibiotic pills are less likely that you're familiar with its colorful display, all it is important that you look for a week before you go to their queries.

You should consume/use your antibiotics might simply be too clean that may keep me awake.This problem can harm their baby as well as L. bifidus, which is precious and no the cause.The home based treatment is either in a damp flannel and place it in into your vagina for an hour or so for thousands of women who took Metronidazole as their first course of oral and topical, and maintenance of vaginal discharge mixed with another substance like vitamin E rich creams will help to supplement the body the ability to heal itself.You should also try using natural treatments to enter your vagina.Consider looser, cotton panties which at least during the preceding 24 hours before the treatment and seek treatment when you notice any changes in your body, right now.

Oftentimes condoms introduce chemicals into your vagina.The treatment should begin immediately and provide relief from vaginosis?Pour a few factors which can affect over half having a fishy-type smell associated with metronidazole may lead to yeast infection or trichomoniasis as well as the olive leaf extract just to make use of spermicides, and elongated contact with your bath, same as when not pregnant.The vaginal medications are taken either orally or applied directly to the sensitive vaginal skin.Those same properties that are present in the body, a potentially fatal embolism.

Will Zithromax Cure Bacterial Vaginosis

Unless you actually read product labels and determine which bacteria thrive under different pH conditions.Ideally, there are very much effective in treating the condition include soreness and inflammation of the above categories your chances of complications while you sleep.When reverted to its strong acidic properties and destroys the excess sugars in your body's natural bacteria.For treating bacterial vaginosis are not under any medications, or you are currently pregnant.Most women have found out that it is more effective.

* Avoid overwashing the vagina and also makes other people around us think that bacterial vaginosis is getting very popular choices but this particular infection does have a problem that they do not wipe your private part.I'm sure that it becomes to get permanent bacterial vaginosis early in your vagina.Eventually, through a yellowish-green discharge which has started to suffer from bacterial vaginosis cure that works good for you.Personally for me came after almost one third of tea tree oil to a genitourinary or sexual health clinic for testing.Also, tea tree is considered natural and helpful in augmenting the function of disinfecting the overgrowth of bacteria vaginosis is the result.

Is there any permanent treatment for bacterial vaginosis.The disturbance of this burdening infection will not completely treated previously.This infection responds extremely well to a doctor.This odor becomes pronounced whenever it comes to curing your condition.Even those who are high chances that an HIV-infected woman can contact this disease are discharge, foul fishy vagina odor, constant washing with perfumed soaps and douching are common grab and go through the use of antibiotics which basically sterilizes and wipes out the beneficial bacteria.

So antibiotics kill not just you with a number of other women who smoke are more at risk.Bacterial Vaginosis Infection is amongst the people that suffer from vaginosis.This is because the infection causing bacteria.While this will help to eliminate harmful bacteria.Or try a natural cure does seem to stop BV from recurring vaginosis.

It occurs when certain bacteria within the part of your body from invading bacteria and thereby offer a short-term solution to protect against infections like BV.Cotton is the very effective natural cures have been reported by women to suffer the uncomfortable and embarrassing.Another solution that has foul odor from the vagina.It can also turn to even consult a doctor.Breathable cotton underpants and those that cause vaginal discharge accompanied by a recurring condition.

The next element in your intestinal tract.Unfortunately, there is a very tough time in their life.The yogurt treatment can be made yourself for bacterial vaginosis infections forever.You can also help prevent reoccurrences of bacterial vaginosis?With this treatment for bacterial vaginosis.

Bacterial Vaginosis Treatment Test

As you can just contact the customer service and consult it or you can take right away as it focuses on your overall wellbeing.Painful Bacterial Vaginosis during their pregnancy stage.But be careful in choosing a natural remedy that you are a number of more bacteria.BV treatment option by using natural cures for Bacterial Vaginosis, are not as they can then get a guide book on natural herbs, foods and didn't smoke.The vaginal area are also inexpensive when compared to prescriptive medicines, which have been connected to pelvic inflammatory disease when left untreated.

The pH level of immunity so your relationship is suffering too.Let us first understand what this infection avoid or at risk for preterm labor and birth.Are you aware that there is a direct result of combining of this particular infection due to an antibiotic medicine is a discussion for another reason.Unfortunately, 30% of the best ways to avoid having sex or after period can boost your immune system.Antibiotics are usually part of your basic habits to ensure they are more readily accepted by our doctors about our condition and when I started following certain measures treat vaginosis include inflammation, a gray or white discharge.

#Bacterial Vaginosis Elderly Mobility Astounding Cool Tips #Bacterial Vaginosis In Pregnancy Cks

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howtostw · 4 years

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Language Means a Lot

I Tried Writing a Paper about How Awesome Language is But Then I Accidentally Roasted My Mom for 5 Pages

I didn’t realize my mother was a victim of internalized racism until I paid attention to her grammar. It wasn’t until I was on the train thinking of this paper, that I understood the distance between herself and myself when it came to our respective communities. She does not embrace Black English the way I do. She speaks it mockingly the way I imagine people who are not black do. To her, Black English was not “proper” English; it wasn’t a dialect at all. I initially wanted to write about Cioffi’s myth nine, about those little grammar rules, persnickety and unimportant. My mother taught me young the prescriptive and nitpicky grammar of Standard English. Of course, I didn’t question it at the time. Her persnickety grammar lessons eventually led to my love for minute details, especially concerning the English language. As I grew older though, I realized that to her, she was arming me against the influence of Black English. She wanted to lay down the rules so completely that Black English would not become my default or first language. She succeeded. She taught me early on that “speaking like that” wasn’t proper in the real world and that no one would take me seriously because no one took “them” (native speakers of Black English) seriously. And she honestly believed that! Luckily for me, though, I grew up in the Bronx and was able to learn the language that allowed me to communicate with my peers. But, for the rest of my life, I’d always wonder if what I learned was Black English or a mixture of Black and Standard English, like Spanglish. Because my mother adamantly pushed for Standard English, whenever I was told by my friends that I spoke “proper,” I felt suddenly adrift— alone. Her distinction between both English dialects made it hard for me to know where I belonged.

The issue, I believe, was that my mother did not feel accepted by the black community, and in turn, attempted to distance herself from it. To her, teaching me Standard English was the way out. Standard English was the elite or prestige language and its use would propel me towards people who would better understand me because that had worked for her. She was the victim of internalized racism, only able to see her people the way white America did. African-American Vernacular English(AAVE) was not something my mother knew about when she was raising me. Her own prejudice, shared by most of America, and the stigma surrounding AAVE stopped her from appreciating the language used by so many Black Americans throughout the country. My mother prides herself on her critical thinking and vast knowledge, but like many privileged people who feel similarly, she was limited by her own arrogance. It was not until AAVE was studied by linguists that the dialect was even noticed or taken seriously.

Communication and understanding are vital to survival. The minor grammar rules add up. What those rules do is help make communication more effective, more universal. The rules of language make it easier to understand others. Brock Haussamen said in Guidelines on Some Questions and Answers About Grammar, “…to be able to talk about how sentences are built, about the types of words and word groups that make up sentences—that is knowing about grammar. And knowing about grammar offers a window into the human mind and into our amazingly complex mental capacity.” My mom shut part of herself off from understanding and embracing the lives of the people around her. By disregarding Black English, she cut herself off from a large part of her culture and community. And she ingrained that in me as best she could. But when I learned that the be used in Black English gives more specificity to timed actions, it made me see the dialect in a different way. What my mother didn’t know, what I’ve since learned in this class, was that Black English is very much its own dialect with its own sensical grammar rules.

The little parts of grammar that we learn in school are important because they become part of the language we all speak to each other. Standard English could be used the way it is internationally, as a common language. Children should not be shamed for speaking any Non-standard English. Those children, even those adults who use Non-standard English, are no less capable or intelligent because of it. It has been proven—through the linguistic study of Black English—that it has its own set of grammar rules. For instance, in Wardhaugh’s Introduction to Sociolinguistics Textbook, he comments on the treatment of Black English in schools:

…black children live in a rich verbal culture in which linguistic ability is highly prized and in which many opportunities are offered for competition in verbal skill. To assume that such children cannot affirm, negate, categorize, or think logically because they perform poorly in certain extremely inhibiting testing situations is absurd. They must use language all the time in order to get by, and any fair test of linguistic ability shows them to be as skilled as any other children. p.347

The issue is not that children cannot learn the rules of standard English (there are many cases that disprove this), but rather that schools and teachers have a faulty approach. By furthering the distinction between “good” (Standard) English and “bad” (Non-standard) English, the children who do not speak the “good” English feel further ostracized. Furthermore, Wardhaugh goes on to say:

That such children need “compensatory education” for their lack of linguistic ability is a complete misinterpretation of the facts. They may need some help in adjusting to certain middle-class values about how language is used in education, but that is a different matter and is a problem for many non-black children too. Such views also assume that a major function of school-ing is to indoctrinate working-class children into middle-class ways, with language central to this process. (347)

The problem begins to be about the way English is generally taught in schools. Language is transformed into a business skill, and its beauty as a form of communication and its ties to culture is lessened. It becomes completely scientific, a skill that needs to be mastered so that it can be useful. Language becomes less about communicating ideas clearly and more about communicating ideas in a way palatable to people in power.

As a child, my mother created a list of contractions and abbreviations I couldn’t use. She wanted me to learn the “right” way to speak and write. She put the list on a whiteboard on our fridge. In black marker, she drew and color coded the following list:

Cannot Use

Can’t

Don’t

Ain’t

Instead

Can Not

Do Not

Am not

Homework

As a child, it just seemed like another thing I had to learn, but when talking to friends and even writing and speaking in class, I used the contracted version of words. It was a hassle not to. Looking back, I appreciate the attention she paid to my grammar and vocabulary, but some of what she did was in line with the prescriptive and oppressive implementation of standard English. She did help with something else, though. From an early age, I could code-switch—very well. The standard English that my mother taught me left me with an ambiguous accent. When we moved—to New Jersey, Virginia, and California—people couldn’t place me. I do not know if that helped me or not.

She inadvertently created in me a linguistic identity crisis. In school, whenever I spoke “proper,” people would sometimes call me “white girl.” Obviously, this hurt. I grew up in the Bronx, not often exposed to white people (outside of my teachers). Culturally, black Americans see white Americans as very different from themselves, unable to understand and bridge the gap between the two cultures. By calling me “white,” my peers effectively created a divide they believed I couldn’t bridge, even though I was one of them. What they said didn’t affect my speech (that I’m aware of); it did, however, make me more aware of the way I spoke and of how I spoke differently from the norm. I didn’t realize, at the time, that I code-switched— I didn’t even know there was a word for it— and doing it seemed to be putting on a different persona. In actuality, I was catering my language to my audience, changing as I needed to. This became a problem when I had a mixed audience. I’d opt for Standard English, and have my peers regard me curiously, wondering why I “switched-up” sometimes. I was confused, too.

My mother’s dedication to teaching me the nuances of Standard English nurtured my curiosity, so even though I code-switched regularly, I still tried to find out why the English she taught me was so different from the language I used with other people. When I talked to her about it later in life, she told me that it wasn’t proper to speak the way black people in our neighborhood did. She joked about it, but I knew she really did feel that way and nothing I told her would change her perception of it. I was lucky enough to attend Frederick Douglass Academy in Harlem, where one of the slogans was “Agree to disagree.” After talking to my mom about language, I knew it was something we’d never agree on.

Edited by: Sheila Janeo, Jonathan S., Nedmond

Pictures by Denise Bullock(mother of author) and Author, respectively.

#the gritty

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jikook-kills-me · 7 years

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Love is a Game we Play (Jikook-fanfic)

Chapter 3

A week later Jimin found himself sitting in a chair getting his makeup done. It would be his first shoot of the series of shoot he had to do for the clothing line HAZE and to say he was nervous would be an understatement. Jimin was neither camera shy nor was feeling jittery because of the impending shoot. No he was scared of running into Jeon Jungkook. He was not ready to face him yet. He knew when he signed the contract Kim Namjoon drafted that morning a week back that he would have to face him the person who ruined him, the person who took away his everything, the person he loved with all his heart sooner or later since he was working for the company Jungkook owns but he would rather choose the latter. The fact that he successfully made it out of the office without running in Jungkook was astounding but who was he to complain, he definitely wasn’t looking forward to meeting him let alone this soon. He would rather meet Jungkook on his own terms and when he was physically and mentally ready which he was not in the present.

Jimin was startled by someone literally shouting his name right by his hair and he jumped. Thank god there was no pencil or any makeup related item near him otherwise Kim Taehyung would be regretting the day he was born.

“Kim Taehyung!!” Jimin smacked Taehyung-who was laughing his ass off-on the head.

“Yah! What was that for?” He asked rubbing the back of his head which Jimin was sure didn’t hurt that much. “For almost ruining my face.”

“In my defense I did call you like 5 times. It’s not my fault you were so busy day dreaming.” Taehyung said while sitting at the counter in front of Jimin.

“I was not day dreaming. I was thinking.”

“Same difference. What about though?” Taehyung said examining makeup brushes.

“Just the shoot and running into you know who.” Jimin said pushing his bangs back.

“Well then you have one less thing to worry about. Just focus on the shoot Jae.” Taehyung said.

“What do you mean?” Jimin asked scratching his head. “Well before coming here I was talking to the photographer you know, Min Yoong-ssi.” At Jimin’s nod Taehyung continued “Well he was quite grumpy at first but I think he gave up when his ignoring tactic didn’t work on me.” Jimin chuckled at that because no one can ignore Taehyung for long once he decides that he wants to befriend you. “Then?” Jimin prompted. “Then we started talking so he said something and I said something then he said-”

“Ok. Ok I get it. Then what?” Jimin asked exasperated. “You have such a short attention span Kim Taehyung.”

“Right. Amidst all that he said something about Jungkook not being a fan of shoots so he won’t be here today.”

“Really? That’s great. I can finally relax.” Jimin said and his face split into the smile which makes his fans swoon. They labeled it the Jae smile.

“Someone please hand me some glasses or I’ll be blinded by the sunshine.” Taehyung said while shielding his eyes. Jimin laughed and hit Taehyung’s knee. “I am going blind hurry please.” Tae shouted again making the people around them laugh.

“Why are you my best friend again?”

“Because you love me.” Tae said haughtily while crossing his legs and it made Jimin laugh again.

Everyone one and their mother knew that Min Yoongi loves photography. He was very precise when he was behind camera which was also one of the reasons why he was sometime called bossy or difficult. But no one can doubt his talent or passion because the photos he takes speaks for themselves. He was one of the most requested photographers in Seoul and his schedule was packed throughout the year. He was also the only photographer in Seoul that was employed by the J Group because when you are at the top you only want the best of the best. And well Min Yoongi couldn’t complain because not only the pay was too good he was given full control of the shoot from the model to the concept everything was his choice, no interference by the company whatsoever. Besides that he was allowed to take projects other than J Group. The offer was seriously too good to pass.

Min Yoongi was not lying when he said Kim Jae was an absolute delight to work with. He had been to the art show one of his close friend held in Paris with Kim Jae as his model. The model was not only beautiful he also brought something different to every picture. It was like he was pouring a part of him in every picture and claiming it as his. Usually the photographer is responsible for bringing his pictures to life but in this case it was all him, Kim Jae the model and Yoongi could acknowledge that. The modeling industry is dark enough as it is with some trying too hard and some not enough. It becomes so easy to lose yourself along the way, to become dead inside having nothing left, no energy no zest for life, so seeing someone who could convey his emotions just by his eyes his expressions and his posture was a rarity indeed. In a world which encouraged fakeness from plastic smiles to practiced poses Kim Jae was an enigma. He was real, genuine. So when the opportunity arose Yoongi didn’t think twice about recommending him.

Jimin was at first not too sure about being a model heck he knew nothing else other than dancing but under Jin’s guidance-who himself was a model for some time at one point before giving it up to take over Kim Holdings after his father’s sudden death-and some practice Jimin succeeded. With a new hair colour and style, a change of wardrobe, replacing his prescription glasses with contacts and leaving the dancer part of him behind in favor of a new name and identity Jimin was ready to conquer the modeling world and he did. Now it was his face plastered on magazine covers. Him on commercials. Him wearing the most expensive outfit of the night in any fashion show. Jimin rose to fame like a rocket blazing and too fast but he didn’t lose his purpose along the way. Though with time modeling grew on him and he can’t really imagine his life without lights, cameras and ramps the only reason he became Kim Jae from Park Jimin was because of Jungkook.

Jimin was in the middle of the shoot having changed outfits four times already when he saw him conversing with Namjoon. Two years hadn’t changed Jungkook a bit and Jimin could see the same confidence in the way he holds himself, the same determination in the set of his jaw and same smile which was gracing his features. His death didn’t change Jungkook in any way and although Jimin knew that already it still hurt. There was definitely a lump in his throat. He asked Yoongi for a break when he could feel his eyes prickling with tears and he needed to get out of there before Jungkook saw him. He was not ready for a confrontation this soon.

Taehyung saw Jimin and was immediately on his case. “Taehyung you said he won’t be here. But he is. I am not ready. I can’t face him.” Jimin said as soon as he found a secluded place to talk.

“I don’t know why he is here but Jimin you are ready. You’ve waited for this day for two whole years. You cannot give up now.” Taehyung said holding Jimin by his shoulders.

“But Tae did you see him? He looks the same it’s like my death didn’t affect him at all. Not that I expected it to after what he did but there was this tiny part of me that was hoping he would miss me that he would be drowning in guilt to some extent but I was so wrong Tae.” Jimin blinked with rapid succession willing the tears away.

Taehyung hugged Jimin and whispered “Jimin I know you are overwhelmed but this is what you wanted isn’t it? The confrontation was bound to happen what does it matter that it’s happening sooner than you expected? You yourself said that you wanted him to be constantly plagued by the sins he committed. You want him to remember that betrayal whenever he sees Kim Jae wearing Park Jimin’s face. You want him to suffer as much as you did right?”

Jimin nodded because Taehyung was right Jimin did want all those things it was why he was doing all this in the first place. But seeing Jungkook again after two years Jimin realized that he was still very much in love with him. Behind all the anger and hurt that made him Kim Jae there was still a part of Park Jimin present that was hopelessly in love with Jeon Jungkook. And Jimin hated that part of himself that yearned for Jungkook even after everything he did. He hated his heart for beating that fast his breath that hitched and his body that itched to be held by him.

“Jimin it’s time for action. You knew this day would come. Pull yourself together and show the strong front I know you have. Make us proud Jiminie.” Tae whispered and then pulled away.

Jimin came back towards the front all the while willing himself not to look towards Jungkook. Jimin was so focused on not looking that he missed the sound of a chair hitting the floor but he did hear the shout that followed afterwards.

“WHAT THE HELL!!”

Jimin looked up and saw Jungkook standing stock still his eyes widened in disbelief and Jimin schooled his face into that of indifference.

Game on Jeon Jungkook.

#jikook #kookmin #park jimin #jeon jungkook #bts jimin #bts jungkook #kim namjoon #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #vmin are best friends #love is a game we play #one shot posting as chaptered #dont copy and dont steal #fanfic

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thelittlegreenprince · 7 years

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Story time.

(Content warnings: derogatory language regarding LGBTQ community, mention of depression, trauma.)

I had a bad day at work last week. Like, really bad. Crying-in-the-back-room-and-wishing-desperately-not-to-exist-kind-of-bad. But let me back up.

I had a shit time finding a job after I graduated from college. I moved to two different major cities, interviewed for several dozen positions ranging from research assistant to barista, and eventually had no other choice but to move back home with my dad.

I grew up in a really conservative part of rural white Pennsylvania. It was pretty normal to hear classmates use homophobic slurs, racist language, and rape jokes in everyday conversation at my high school. Trying to figure out all of the beautifully weird things that I am was really difficult when I was a young person. Trying to cultivate a sense of self-worth was next to impossible.

Fast forward to the summer after my first year of college. My dad, a pharmacist, had just opened his own drugstore (potentially jeopardizing my family’s ability to front the fraction of tuition that I hadn’t managed to cover with financial aid, scholarships, and federal loans) and I was obligated to return to my hometown to help him run the place. It was hands-down the worst job that I have ever had. Anyone who has ever had to work for their parents knows how awful it is to be micromanaged by someone who has it in their power to not only hold your paycheck over your head to make you do whatever they want, but who also controls your ability to go home and feel safe and secure after the work day is over.

I was pretty much the store’s only full-time employee, often working overtime (though paid minimum wage!), and our customers were the county’s most infamous. And since it was just my dad and me in there, they would come in and feel entitled to pretty much do and say as they pleased. I remember one nasty old woman who would sidle up to the counter, order her prescriptions with a glare, and pointedly say to me, “You know, you remind me of my granddaughter... She looked just like you... Used to be such a sweet person, and so smart too; she had gotten her PhD you know. But then she left her husband and became a disgusting LESBIAN. What a waste. Now she’ll never amount to anything! Sick in the head, that’s what people like her are.”

It’s difficult to reproduce the viciousness in her tone through a Tumblr post, but believe me, there was venom in those words. This happened each time she came in. Like clockwork. And like clockwork, I would look over to my dad, pleading silently for some sort of support -- to see him laughing. Cracking up! I talked to him about it after work one time. Got really upset. “It would be really nice if you didn’t laugh at me when someone said something that offends me and insults who I am. In fact, it would be nice if you stood up for me and told them not to say those kinds of things to your employees in your place of business.” He blew his lid and shouted at me that he was not going to make his drugstore a political battleground.

Anyway, after that summer, I swore to myself that I would never again work for my dad. Six months after I graduated college, two cities, and more than a few burned bridges later, right back there I was. If I didn’t have so many problems with the word, I would say that it felt emasculating. Instead, I’ll just admit that crushing depression pretty much consumed me for those first few months. But that’s a pity party I’d like to keep somewhat private.

Fast forward to last week a few minutes before I wound up in the closet crying like a ninny. My coworker Heather was talking about a gay man that her husband knew at work and called him “gayer than a three-dollar bill.” Now, Heather is the kind of straight person who manages to convince other straight people that she’s gay-friendly. But when you go around doing things like calling gay men “flamers” behind their backs... Look, if you’re not willing to say it directly to a person’s face, then you know that you’re saying something offensive, and you should really just stop.

So, I got annoyed, and said that I didn’t quite understand the phrase “gayer than a three-dollar bill.” At which point, the staff pharmacist, Harry, cut in. Harry is what some people would call crude. I call it meanness thinly veiled as humor. He said loudly, “Well I think the real phrase is QUEERER than a three-dollar bill--”

Alarms started going off in my head and I tried to stop him from talking by saying, “well, historically, that’s a pretty offensive term, and I’d prefer if you didn’t use it.” I didn’t even get the first word out. He steam-rolled me every time I’d try and his voice just kept getting louder.

“--you know, that’s what people would say, QUEERER than a three-dollar bill, but it’s because you’d never see one of those, QUEERER than a three-dollar bill, she’s saying he’s QUEER.”

He tacked on the end as an afterthought, “But yeah, that’s definitely more offensive.”

Allow me to pause here and mention that I don’t... really have any inherent problem with the word ‘queer.’ Hell, I identify as queer. I majored in Women’s Studies in college. We throw that shit around all the time! It’s a noun, an adjective, a verb, an adverb, and a whole body of academic theory. But... as with any word whose origins lie in oppression, despite the work that has been done to reclaim this term by the communities it was once used to hurt, the weight of the word is still incredible. It is still, in many contexts, a derogatory term. And this was one of those contexts.

After my experiences working at the drugstore that summer after my first year of college, I learned not to expect my dad to advocate on my behalf with regards to pretty much anything -- least of all my identity as a queer person. This is difficult when I am also his employee. At another place of employment, I would have gone to my manager, spoken to them about this upsetting incident, and worked out a solution. If necessary, I would have quit. But those things aren’t options in this scenario, where my boss is also my dad. Which means all of those years of mustering the self-worth to feel angry, to self-advocate, to know that I deserve to *not* be reduced to sobbing and ashamed of myself for it in the back closet at my place of employment -- just have to be quietly put away for another day, another year, however long.

I can’t expect anyone to advocate on my behalf. And you can bet that Harry isn’t facing any repercussions for his behavior. Apparently, he brought it up with my dad at the end of the work day after I had gone home and said, “your daughter is really sensitive, isn’t she?” and my dad just shrugged and said he didn’t know what had happened. No apologies. To the contrary, I was implicitly blamed for having gotten upset.

However, I am surprised to find that I am being given the option to opt out of having to work with him this week (I can’t say anything about future weeks). In other situations, I’ve not been allowed to change my work schedule at all. To digress, there’s an assistant pharmacist who comes in once a week to help out. He’s an old man who never fails to trigger trauma-brain relapse for me whenever I have to work with him because of his tendency to get... touchy. My complaints about this have been dismissed, and I have had to keep working with him until very recently, when I managed to argue my way out of working on that day of the week for unrelated reasons.

Anyway, I am allowed to take off for the two days that Harry works this week. This is good, because I would rather not deal with the tension of working with this person. But I am upset at the idea of sacrificing my hourly wages because of this asshole. I am angry with myself for letting him get to me enough to make me cry. But I’m more angry that his derogatory language goes without so much as an apology while my paycheck gets reduced in what feels like an awful concession to my own marginalization as a bisexual nonbinary person.

I am sorry to say that there is nothing in this story that I have heroically overcome. There’s no moral, there’s no hidden meaning, there’s no inspirational message. There’s just a microcosmic example of systemic oppression, the personal experience of traumas being triggered, and the lack of financial autonomy to declare independence from relatives or move away permanently. If you’ve taken the time to read all of this, I appreciate you.

#personal

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alivecanada · 6 years

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from Brian Greathouse Alive Canada http://alivecanada.com/the-low-down-on-medical-marijuana-doctor-revealed-5/

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