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thedreadvampy · 3 years

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Hey Ruth! I noticed you've talked in the past about asexuality in quite a negative manner. As an ace-person (who has received backlash for it) I was wondering: do you still uphold these opinions?

Hey! I have in the past said I don’t really...like people popping up in my ask box asking me My Opinion On Asexuality, but I do appreciate you asking me as someone I kinda know and with your face turned on, so I’m gonna aim to answer in the macro. Though I mean it depends on what the opinions...are? I have had a lot of opinions over the time I’ve had this blog and I don’t necessarily know what all of them were or which ones have concerned you. I can give you a top-level view of how I see my views, though (however, since I have been largely holding off on answering this kind of ask for Literally A Year Now this is less an answer to your specific question and more an answer to the last year of asks)

(also if I get dogpiled in my inbox for Having Bad Asexuality Opinions which I do every time I talk about asexuality regardless of what I actually say then. my phone is broken I won’t know about it :) so I feel untouchable)

I don’t think I hold a negative opinion of asexuality as an identity (I say I don’t think bc we all have blind spots)? I have a lot of very important people in my life who are asexual, aromantic or aroace and. I mean it feels pretty condescending to say ~uwu it’s valid~ bc like. ace and aro people don’t really need my input to validate their identity. but a) it seems like a pretty accurate way to describe their experience and b) I know a lot of them have had a really huge boost from finding a name and community to fit their experience and have found that really helpful, and I’ve seen that make a huge difference in people’s lives and I’m really happy to watch my friends come to understand themselves and feel comfortable and accepted in a part of themselves they had felt really alienated or stigmatised by. In a broader sense, I think there’s huge value in decentralising romance and sex in our assumptions of What Human Happiness Means and for some people that’s not the most important thing, and for some it’s just not interesting.

So like. I find it difficult to really express these opinions in any meaningful way because my opinion on asexuals and aromantics is much like my opinion on trans people or idk like people of colour. like very obviously those people exist and very obviously those people don’t deserve to be marginalised or stigmatised but it would feel. weird and performative to just make a post saying like “Asexuality Is Good And Valid, I Am Pro It” bc again like. who needs my permission or cares about my opinion. it’s not a Good Thing To Do it’s just. a thing you are that shouldn’t be treated as a bad thing.

however. and I suspect that this is what you’re referring to. while I love and appreciate ace and aro people, I think building communities and active support for ace and aro people is valuable and needed and, as above, I think Asexuality Is Good And Valid I Am Pro It, I do take some issue with elements of how discussions around asexuality are framed online (pretty much only online, I really haven’t run into the kind of black-and-white thinking in in-person queer spaces)

and I also. think there are some issues with people extrapolating their experience of their own sexuality onto the world in a way which. I’m just going to say a lot of the time when I talk about The Ace Discourse in a negative way it’s around people assuming that the world is split into a binary between ace and allo people, or assuming that only aspec people experience a nuanced or complex or fluid relationship to their sexuality while pigeonholing allosexuality into a pretty flat image of sex and romance focus. and I have always felt like this does a massive disservice not just to people who don’t identify with aspec labels, but also to the general hope that we could work against the expectation that there’s a Standard Amount To Value Sex/Romance - I think that the assumption that there are aspec people and then Everyone Else Has The Normal Type and Level of Attraction just. reinforces the idea that there’s a “Normal” type and level of attraction. which is ultimately pretty self-defeating and also just. observably untrue.

and this division of the world into Aspec People and Allo People also has some other weird knockon effects - I don’t think there’s anything intrinsically wrong with identities like gray ace or demi or other aspec labels beyond asexual and aromantic, but I do think that the way those labels are used is often. unhelpful. and they’re defined in such personal, subjective ways that you get weirdnesses sometimes like people Diagnosing Each Other With Demisexual or people saying ‘you can’t talk about this experience you share because it’s an Aspec Experience’ and again. there isn’t a concrete material experience there because the whole experience of romantic and sexual attraction, what that feels like and how sharply divisible it is is very, very personal and subjective. and everyone has different experiences of those and will name those experiences differently.

there’s also. historically a minority of Big Ace Blogs that kind of sneer at allosexuality or who would hijack posts about other issues to derail them to asexuality. but I don’t think they were ever representative of the community as a whole and I certainly think that inasmuch as those blogs remain around they’re a legacy of the Long-Ago (and a lot of them are trolls imo)

but there is. an issue I take that does seem to be more currently live which is the question of allo privilege. I think personally that framing all allosexuals/alloromantics as privileged over all aspec people on the basis of feeling sexual/romantic attraction is provably untrue in a world where people, particularly queer people, are actively oppressed and marginalised for expressing non-normative sexuality. it isn’t that I don’t think asexuality and aromanticism isn’t marginalised and stigmatised, because it visibly is, but it seems pretty reductive to boil it down to a binary yes/no privilege when both sexualisation and desexualisation are so actively tied into other forms of marginalisation (this is what I was trying to express in the argument about Martin a while ago - sex and sexuality are so often disincentivised for fat, queer, disabled and neuroatypical people that it doesn’t...feel like a reclamation that those tend to be the characters that get fanonised as ace where slim, straight, able-bodied and neurotypical characters aren’t. like it’s more complex than a binary privilege equation; sex and romance are incentivised and stigmatised differently at the intersection of oppressions and. for example. in a world where gay conversion therapy and religious oppression of gay and SGA people is so often focused specifically on celibacy and on punishing the act of sexual attraction, I don’t think it’s a reasonable framing to say that a gay allosexual man has privilege over an aroace man on the basis of his attraction)

so those are like. things I would consider myself to feel actively negative about in online discourse (and again. in online discourse. not in how I relate to asexuality or aromanticism or aspec identities in general but in the framing and approaches people take towards discussing it in a very specific bubble).

but also. um. the main criticism I have of the online discourse culture of asexuality is that there are things I don’t have experience of that I have mentioned, when asked, that I don’t personally understand the meaning of but I don’t need to understand them to appreciate that they’re useful/meaningful to others. things like

the difference between QPRs, asexual romantic relationships and close friendships

how you know the difference between romantic attraction and friendship

the distinction between sexual attraction and a desire to have sex with someone for another reason

and I hope I’ve generally been clear that this is. honest lack of understanding and not condemnation. I personally have a very muddled sense of attraction and often have difficulty identifying the specifics of any of my own emotional needs so like. it’s a closed book for me at the moment, how you would identify the fine distinctions between types of want when I’m still at step 1: identify That You Want Something Of Some Sort, Eventually, Through Trial And Error. but I think I’ve always been explicit that this isn’t a value judgement it’s just a gap in my own knowledge and yet. every single time I’ve said anything other than enthusiastic “yes I understand this and I love it and it’s good and valid” (and again. I have not gone out of my way to talk about it I have mostly only mentioned it because people keep asking me to talk about it) I have got a massive rush of anger and accusations of aphobia and “just shut up if you don’t know what you’re talking about but also answer my 30 questions to prove you think Correct Things about asexuality” and. I understand that this comes from a place of really unpleasant and aggressive backlash towards the ace community so it’s a sensitivity with a lot of people but like. it doesn’t seem proportional.

also I feel like ever since I hit like 700 followers my Tumblr life has been a constant cycle of people asking me Are You An Ace Inclusionist Are You An Exclus Are You An Aphobe Justify Your Opinion On Asexuality which. eventually yeah I’ve got pretty snippy about the whole thing. but you know. fuck it I’m just gonna lay it out and if you or anyone else is uncomfortable following me based on those opinions then I’m sorry to hear that and I will be sad to see you not want to engage with me any more but I also think that’s absolutely your prerogative. however I will not be taking questions at this time (and not just bc my phone’s broken) - demands for an argument about this Are Going To Be Ignored so if you want to go then go.

so like the big question I reckon is Do You Think Asexuality Is Queer and

yes. no. maybe. I don’t understand the question what does it mean for an identity to be queer?

there are spaces and conversations where any form of aromanticism or asexuality makes sense as a relevant identity. talking about hegemonic expectations of normative romance. building community. combatting the idea that heterosexual missionary married sex between a man and a woman is the only rewarding or valuable form of relationship or intimacy.

there are spaces where I think heterosexual aros/heteromantic cis aces don’t. have a more meaningful or direct experience of the issues than allo cishets. because while being aro or ace or aspec has a direct impact on those people on a personal and relational level, disclosure is largely a choice, and the world at large sees them as straight. they don’t have the lived experience of being visibly nonconforming that SGA people and aroace people do. they may still be queer but there’s a lot of conversations where they bring a lot of the baggage of being Straight People (because. even if you’re ace or aro you can still be straight in your romantic or sexual attraction and if your relationships are all outwardly straight then you don’t necessarily have an intimate personal understanding of being marginalised from mainstream society by dint of your sexuality). this doesn’t make you Not Queer in the same way that being a bi person who’s only ever been in m/f relationships is still queer, but in both cases a) you don’t magically have a personal experience of societal oppression through the transitive properties of Being Queer and b) it’s really obnoxious to talk as if you’re The Most Oppressed when other people are trying to have a conversation about their lived experience of societal oppression. and they’re within their rights to say ‘we’re talking about the experience of being marginalised for same gender/non-heterosexual attraction and you’re straight, could you butt out?’)

(I very much object to the assumption coming from a lot of exclus that “cishet ace” is a term that can reasonably be applied to non-orientated aroace people though. het is not a default it really extremely doesn’t make sense to treat people who feel no attraction as Straight By Default. when I were a lad I feel like we mostly understood “asexual” to mean that identity - non-orientated aroace - and while I think it’s obvious that a lot of people do find value in using a more split-model because. well. some people are both gay/straight/bi and aro/ace, and it’s good that language reflects that. but I do think it’s left a gap in the language to simply refer to non-attracted people. this isn’t a criticism of anything in particular - there’s a constant balancing act in language between specificity and adaptability and sometimes a gain for one is a loss for the other)

some queer conversations and spaces just. aren’t built with aces in mind. and that isn’t a flaw. some spaces aren’t built with men in mind, but that doesn’t mean men can’t be queer. some conversations are about Black experiences of queerness but that doesn’t mean non-Black people can’t be queer. not all queer spaces will focus on ace needs but that doesn’t mean asexuality isn’t queer, or that queerness is opposed to aceness - sex, sexuality, romance and dating are all really important things to a lot of queer people, especially those whose sexuality and romantic relationships are often stigmatised or violently suppressed in wider society. there should be gay bars, hookup apps, gay and trans friendly sex education, making out at Pride, leather parades and topless dyke marches and porn made by and for queer people, romantic representation in media of young and old gay, bi and trans couples kissing and snuggling and getting married and saying sloppy romantic things. and there should be non-sexual queer spaces, there should be discussions around queerness that don’t suppose that a monogamous romantic relationship is what everyone’s fighting for, sex ed should be ace inclusive, etc.

I think the whole question of inclusionism vs exclusionism is based on a weird underlying assumption that If An Identity Is Queer All Queer Spaces Should Directly Cater To That. like. aspec identities can be queer and it can be totally reasonable for there to be queer spaces that revolve around being sexual and romantic and there can be conversations it’s not appropriate or productive to centre asexuality and aspec experiences in and we can recognise that not all queer people do prioritise or have any interest in sex or romance. in the same way that there’s value in centring binary trans experiences sometimes and nonbinary experiences at other times but both of those conversations should recognise that neither binary or nonbinary gender identity is a Universal Queer Experience.

anyway that one probably isn’t one of the opinions you were asking about but I have been wanting to find a way to express it for a while so you’re getting it: the Ruth Thedreadvampy Inclusionism Take.

uh. it’s 1:30 on a work night so I have been typing too long. if there was an opinion you were specifically thinking of that I haven’t mentioned, chuck me another ask specifically pointing to what you want me to clarify my thinking on. sometimes I gotta be honest I’ve just been kind of careless in my framing (thinking of the Martin Fucks debacle where I spent ages insisting I didn’t say Martin couldn’t be aroace then read back like two days later and realised that I had said “he’s not aroace” bc I had written the post at 2am without proofreading and had meant to say “unless you think he’s aroace”) so I May Well Not Stand By Some Posts or might Stand By Them With Clarification

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lolabangtan · 4 years

Text

My cat neighbour | pjm

Fair enough. Weirder things had already happened to you, like that time you swore to have seen a shadow vanish in the corner of your room. Odd? Indeed. Impossible? Not quite. Buzzfeed? Unsolved. However, the fact that the cat you had seen settling down near your flat was actually a human—a hybrid, as he had stated—was certainly a bit too much.

index • next

Word count: 6k

Warnings: well if you’re not into hybrid smut (although i can grant you that all genitals and erotic zones addressed in this story are 100% human) then you probably shouldn’t read this. Anyways, this is a mess, i don’t even know what is this supposed to mean. Ended up being kinkier than i expected. Don’t look too deeply into it. Please. My therapist will be really disappointed if she ever finds out.

Also: some doctor who-shaming. Sorry, i hate cheesy sci-fi.

# cat hybrid!jimin, dom!reader, animal rut as a poor excuse to indulge in my kinks, dry humping, overstimulation, masturbation, nipple play, lactation kink, praise kink, Jimin really hasn’t grasped the concept of ‘non-pregnant women’s breasts don’t produce milk’, impregnation kink, vaginal sex, ‘mommy’ and ‘kitten’ as part of my big fat kink, of course.

After all those years, you were decided to put your life together and stop being a nuisance for society. No more partying until the next afternoon, no more sleeping around and not stepping on your apartment for days. You’d become the best, most responsible version of yourself from now on.

Why, people might ask you? Well, the reason was a pretty ball of blonde fluffy fur you had bumped into a few days ago.

You two had first met the day you caught him sneaking through the window into your kitchen, having probably smelled your delicious food from the street. As everyone in the neighbourhood knew, the colony cats used to gather at the end of the backstreet to share the food they found, so you assumed that was the reason why the cute kitten had shown up in your kitchen.

You fed him some turkey and fresh water, and he ate and drank plenty. The little cat didn’t look too dirty, nor too famished. It’d probably been abandoned by its owner not so long ago, and the thought made your heart ache.

“Do you mind if I pet you, kitten?” The cat meowed, looking at you with its big, black eyes, and rubbed its head against your hand. “Oh! You’re a smart little guy, aren’t you?”

However, the cat ran away shortly after, and you rushed to dress up for work, the hangover from last day still lingering.

The next time you saw it, it was raining cats and dogs, no pun intended, so you invited it in, towelled it dry, and fed it the leftovers of your dinner. It was dark and cold outside, so you also pitied it and allowed him to sleep with you on your bed. Its purring sang you to sleep.

By the time you woke up, the kitten had already disappeared from your embrace, so you got out of the bed to look for it, worrying about whether it had been caught by one of your neighbours’ evil kids to torture it. Kids nowadays were merciless, or at least so were the ones you had met around the block. Besides, your maternal instinct was less than alive.

“Kitten?” you called, leaning out of the bedroom door.

You heard a mellow meowing from the kitchen and saw it sticking out his tongue as it drank the running tap water, too engrossed in it to bother to look at you.

“Kitten! How did you turn it on?”

The cat only jumped off the counter and headed back to your room, so you let it go and followed it, giggling at its strange behaviour. Animals could be so weird sometimes. It had already claimed its spot on the bed, so you simply laid down next to its warm, purring body, and covered you both with the blankets, kissing it good night.

Minnie, as you had named it, kept coming back every once in a while, probably when the weather was too cold and there was no food on the streets. However, you began to wonder if Minnie really was a stray cat, for it looked quite healthy and well-fed, and always seemed to come from the same place—the flat next to yours.

It often came over for food and to shelter from the rain, but the kitten ended up demanding cuddles, since it started to stay the night almost every day, falling asleep curled up on your chest, although its purring and warmth weren’t really helpful when you already struggled to wake up in the morning.

You felt during the night something heavy resting on your chest, some pointy furry ears tickling the tip of your nose, making you giggle in your sleep. Someone was breathing against your exposed cleavage, but you were both sleep and sex-deprived, and your dried-out brain induced you into believing that it was just a dream. Enjoy it while you can, you horny bitch, it told you.

It was the first time you’d had the chance to sleep next to someone in weeks, even if it was just your mind playing you dirty, so you moved to face your inexistent lover, put your leg over his apparently naked thigs, and pulled him into your chest while your hand scratched gently the back of his neck down to his lower back.

Cuddling a boy in your lucid wet dream felt kind of fucked up, but who would find out? The stray cat sleeping next to you that had probably already snuck into your kitchen to steal away your low-fat turkey leftovers? Nonsense.

You kept caressing the soft hair, nuzzling his neck. It was quite vivid to be only a dream, as clear-headed as you felt. Drowsiness had slowly abandoned your body to leave room for the warmth coming from the stranger’s skin, and you couldn’t help rubbing your lower half against him when you felt something hard pressing on your belly.

“Mo-mommy.” A fucking whimper.

Hell, your mind really hated you. How dare it use the mommy kink against her master and commander? I’ll force it to binge watch Doctor Who for twenty hours straight. Let’s see if it survives to the worst show ever created.

Listening to your peaceful humming, he tensed under your palm’s brief touch, fingers caressing his belly hair, close to his already hard and wet dick, but not close enough. Your hand, your fingers, they were only a teasing presence, the shadow of what it would feel like. The other hand ghostly roamed around the shadow of his left nipple, reminding him how close he was—to you.

You felt a weight sink the mattress as he turned on his own body, pulling the dripping hardness away from your belly.

But you didn’t let him go. The hand caressing his nipple went up to the back of his neck, and you tangled your fingers in his hair. A weak ‘mommy’ came out of his lips again, and this time you felt his hand travelling down his torso to his dick.

“Mo-mommy, sorry, I-” You heard a continuous wet rubbing sound and a mellow voice. “I-I’m sorry.”

The bed was quaking under the increasingly frantic movement of his hand. You could feel against your chest how his breathing began to quicken as he tried to swallow down his little whimpers, but then your fingers came back to one of his nipples and you pinched it, tearing a delicious moan away from his lips.

The boy choked on his spit as he spoke. “I-I’m close. Sorry, ah, mommy, I’m so sorry-I… I-”

He did his best to keep his load shot away from your skin, trying to focus on the grip of his hand instead of the way his hips were thrusting into nothing in an attempt to handle the pleasure of his sneaky orgasm.

When you felt his breath calming down against your chest, you moved your hand to his half-spent dick, a smile creeping on your lips as you felt your fingertips getting dirty with his cum. Then you took its length, softly, gently, eyes still closed, far away from the darkness of your room, and pumped it. The boy whined, nuzzling the beginning of your breasts while his hips followed the pace of your hand.

“Mommy, ple-please,” he begged, almost sobbing, “I’m gonna-I’m gonna come again.” But with his whispered pleas he was not asking you to stop. “Mmh, ngh! Coming, mama! I’m coming!”

This time, some of his semen ended up streaming against your skin, although it took him a few seconds to realise it. Horrified, the boy stared at both your cum-stained hand and belly, and moved his shivering thighs to the other side of the bed to get out.

That was the end of your dream, and you were fairly weirded out when you woke up.

However, you were pissing yourself, so you ran into the bathroom and sat on the toilet to enjoy one of your favourite parts of your morning routine—staring at nothing while you started feeling how your ass goes numb against the cold porcelain of your toilet.

When you turned around to fetch the toilet paper, you were faced instead with a lonely cardboard tube, so you grabbed it, frowning, and threw it in the trash with a jerky move. “I wish I had a flatmate I could blame for these things.”

After you peed and flushed the toilet, you headed to the kitchen to get yourself your daily dose of caffeine and, perhaps, let Minnie have some of your skim milk. It had apparently been craving it for a few days now—the brat let you know yesterday, after it knocked down your mug as it tried to drink before you even had the chance to pour coffee in it.

“Minnie!” you called, “Pspspspspsps!”

Your heart ached at the thought of losing your kitten. Yes, it was not yours, and its name probably wasn’t even Minnie. But you couldn’t deny that taking care of it had made you feel something that you never thought you’d be able to—the desire of nurturing, of spoiling and babying your kitten.

The kitchen window was half opened, cold coming through it, waving the white curtains. Perhaps Minnie had gone out to come back to the colony.

It was nine in the morning. With that in mind, you grabbed a coat after putting on the first trainers you spotted and opened the door to the hall, hoping to bump into any of the old ladies that fancied doing the grocery shopping as soon as the convenience stores opened their doors. And you were lucky that morning—Mrs Oh, the middle-aged woman who lived across the hall, had just closed the door behind her.

“Madam! Excuse me, Mrs Oh, have you perhaps seen a yellow cat around the building? Not too big, with dark eyes. It looks healthy and well-fed.”

The woman pressed her lips together. “Oh, miss, I haven’t. I just got out. Did it get lost tonight?”

A clattering sound grabbed your attention, and you turned around to see one of your neighbours rushing to get his keys to open the door of his flat.

It was Park Jimin, the boy next door. Handsome, cute, highly shy. He barely interacted with the rest of the neighbours but was always willing to lend a hand if someone needed him to. Despite his casual clothing, you found yourself horrified by the ugly hat covering his head. It was too big, too wide, and too tall.

“Yeah,” you muttered, completely heartbroken.

“Was it your cat?”

You frowned. “Yes… Yes, it was short of my kitten.”

“I didn’t know you had any pets since you’re always going in and out of your flat…” As much as you were fond of Mrs Oh, she tended to be quite gossipy and nosy, so you cut her off with a brief and sad ‘thank you, anyway’ and turned around. “Perhaps Mr Park knows something! Do you, sir?”

You noticed Park Jimin had been eavesdropping your entire conversation with Mrs Oh, cheeks all flushed and shiny dark eyes. A fatal jerky jolt of his fingers made him drop the keys, startled when he saw the two of you staring at him, so he bent down to pick them up and used those seconds to think about what on earth he could add in a situation like that.

“Yes?” stuttered the boy, looking at you with his elusive eyes. His voice sounded awfully familiar.

“Miss Y/L/N’s kitten got lost. Have you seen it, sir?”

“Now that I think of it,” you suddenly said, “Minnie prowled your door quite often, Mr Park. It’s a yellow kitten, small, really cute, with dark eyes. You must have seen him.”

Jimin shook his head, looking down to the floor. He was chewing on his bottom lip. “Minnie?” The boy finally tilted up his chin to stare at you, but soon looked back at your hands. “I haven’t seen your… kitten, sorry. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Thank you so much,” you breathed. Even if Park Jimin hadn’t seen your baby Minnie, he was willing to lend a hand, as always. “Don’t hesitate to ring if you find out anything, Mr. Park. I live next door.”

“I know.”

You stayed in silence for a few seconds, but thanked him anyway for his help and headed back to your flat, sad and depressed that you couldn’t spend your lazy Saturday with your kitten. How you wish you could hold Minnie in your lap to pet and pamper it! You were even willing to stay at home for the rest of the weekend, too, instead of going and painting the town red.

Honestly, you had lied—you weren’t going to torture your own mind watching Doctor Who. You simply chose an uninteresting movie to fill the silence of your living room while working on your laptop.

Every once in a while, you turned your head to check if Minnie had come back: the window was still open, inviting, and you thought about leaving on the counter a bowl with your favourite skim milk to lure the kitten into your den, but you didn’t even know if it was around.

Almost an hour later, someone knocked on your door. The knocking was gentle and patient, so you moved to the entrance of your flat with much curiosity and looked through the peephole.

“Mr Park!” you said, opening the door, “God, did you find my Minnie?”

Jimin looked down for a second before gathering the courage. “I… I’d like to talk to you. May I come in?”

You hesitated. Yes, Park Jimin was your cute neighbour, the handsome boy that lived next door, but he was practically a stranger either way. What if he was a psychopath who was using your kitten to break into your flat, tie you up, and kill you—in the best scenario?

“Please,” he insisted with a weak voice.

“I don’t know, Mr Park. I barely know you.”

“It’s about… your cat. I need to tell you something, but I-I can’t do it out here. Anyone could see me—that’s not helping, is it? Please, Y/N, I wouldn’t even dream of hurting you.”

“Alright.” With a deep sigh, you grabbed his shoulders and pushed him into your flat, only to turn around yourself to press your back against the door, hand already gripping knob, ready to turn it at any time in case you needed to run away. “Go ahead, I’m all ears.”

Jimin stood in the middle of your living room in silence, not so sure about the best way to tell you. You wouldn’t believe him if he used only his word, he had to show you, somehow, but your gaze was too sharp, too intense for him to focus on anything that wasn’t your eyes. So, the boy simply closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and bit his bottom lip.

“It’s me,” he said, “I’m Minnie.”

“What?”

Your hand slipped from the doorknob, making you trip onto the floor, although you managed to keep yourself on both of your feet. By the time you looked up, Minnie the kitten was standing in front of you, staring at you over a pile of clothes—the clothes that Park Jimin had worn just a few minutes before.

You scoffed. “So, this was a bloody prank? Go to hell, Park Jimin, or whoever planned this, and take your cat with you.” It’d be stupid to deny that you sounded hurt. You were. Minnie, your kitten, your baby, was only part of a bigger trick. Where could the cameras be?

But Minnie meowed to get your attention, and you had to fight the urge to take it in your arms and kiss it.

“Mr Park?” you called. The flat was silent, except for the kitten, which meowed again. “No,” you laughed then, scoffing again through your nose, sceptical. “You must be joking. It can’t be…”

With more meowing—that sounded a little bit impatient now—Minnie grabbed the clothes piled under its paws with its fangs and dragged them behind the kitchen counter, protected from your wide-open eyes. You were still trying to process everything, but it was undeniable that there was conscience in Minnie. When he looked at you, he saw you.

A few moments later, Park Jimin peeked over the counter. His big, rounded eyes shone through the blue morning mist, but you were not standing there to admire his features, his luscious lips, his little frame hidden behind the countertop. On the contrary, you approached him with cautious steps and confirmed that the kitten was nowhere to be seen.

What struck you most was the ugly hat clenched in his hands. Now that it was not covering his head, it was easy to disguise the two furry, pointed yellow ears camouflaged in his blond hair.

“You are a cat?” you mumbled, completely astonished.

“A hybrid,” he corrected you, “I can take the form of either a cat or a human, but I’m a hybrid… And this-this can make interactions a little bit weird for us, so I understand if you… I thought you’d be horrified if you found out since, hm, what happened last night.”

“So it wasn’t a wet dream!”

Jimin started fidgeting as he talked, and you swore, he was too cute for your own good. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you since you moved in, but you always seemed so… busy. Thought you’d only have me around if I was a cat.” His cheeks were blushing with a bright red. “Guess I’m braver when I’m your Minnie.”

“That’s why you kept coming around? Because you wanted to be with me?” you asked, still not quite sure how you wanted to feel about it.

“Yeah. I know it sounds creepy but-”

“That’s actually really cute. Awkwardly cute,” you laughed, “Aw, Minnie, come hug mommy.”

There was nothing but innocent intentions in what you said, in the way you addressed yourself, but Jimin couldn’t help shuddering when you surrounded him with your arms, crawling him into your chest.

You noticed how he took a deep breath against your neck, completely embarrassed. “I’m so sorry that I-I touched myself. I’ve been getting my rut these days, but I was trying to control it! I swear I’m more than happy with your kisses and your cuddles, but then you were—shit, I know it wasn’t your fault, it was mine, but-”

You took him out of your embrace so that you could look at him better and have him pay attention to you instead of wrapping himself up in a chaos of apologies and stuttering.

“Jimin,” you cut him off, “I appreciate that you’re apologising, but you don’t have to worry.” The boy hopefully tilted his head up. “You don’t.”

Actually, it was you the one who felt like shit. While Jimin was nothing but the victim of his own natural instincts, your biological functions, unlike his, were less than dead loss when it came to reproduction per se. Technically, it was you the one who took advantage of his needs, no matter how asleep you were.

Pressing him again against your chest to calm him down, you sort of felt something, and you couldn’t help the smirk that crept on your lips.

“Are you hard?”

He looked down at his crotch and nodded as he looked up back at you, a cute pout on his lips.

“You can’t help it, can you, kitten?” Your hand rose to his pointy furry ears and caressed them with the utmost delicacy, not wishing to disturb him or hurt him in any way, but still wanting to make him feel calm around you. It was a familiar touch for Jimin already, your hands on his head. “It must be bothering you.”

“I-It’s okay, mommy, I’m fine. It’ll go away,” he mumbled.

“Why don’t you use my bathroom to take care of it?” Jimin stared at you with his eyes wide open and a wild blush taking over his cheeks. “Go ahead, don’t be shy. You said it’s a natural reaction so, proceed. Don’t mind me.” And, in order to add more solidity to your offer, you pointed at the bathroom door with both hands.

His way to the bathroom was awkward, at least for him.

While Jimin was sometimes prey to his natural instincts, that didn’t mean he didn’t have proper sexual desires. You were the living proof of that. He wanted to be yours, yours—he wanted you to hold him while he merged into you and whisper to him what a good kitten he was. He wanted to feel you close. He wanted you to touch him where it hurt and kiss him and pet him and nurture him and love him.

When Jimin went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, he knew perfectly well that it wasn’t right, just like last night, when he let himself go against your warm touch. He was taking advantage of your maternal instincts towards him and was betraying your trust with his silence.

And it felt so good, and so wrong, pulling down his trousers and pants, freeing his already wet and hard dick. You had told him that you’d be in your room, in case he needed anything. But all he needed was you.

Meanwhile, you had decided to work on your bed, much more comfortable than your couch, hoping to get away from the moaning and groaning you heard coming from the bathroom. What the bloody hell were you thinking about when you told him he could touch himself there? Now you’d have to deal with the wet fabric of your underwear and the empty feeling in your crotch.

Jimin let out a moan, louder than any other sound you had ever heard from him. “Shit, shit-!” This was so fucked up. You were so fucked up. Your brain wouldn’t survive if he kept moaning and whimpering and whining like that. “Mmh- Mommy, p-please!”

“Minnie?”

You wondered why he was calling you so suddenly. What if he had accidentally hurt himself? You couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d be calling for his mommy—you really shouldn’t think about that.

The door was ajar when you arrived at the entrance of the bathroom, and all the lights were on. It was impossible to avoid staring at him and his figure in front of the mirror, moving frantically at the rhythm of his hand. If Jimin had not yet finished, he was close. Like a kid who kept mumbling ‘just one more sweetie’, you couldn’t rip your eyes off him. ‘Just one more look’.

Jimin turned around, leaning his back against the counter, unashamedly showing himself to you, his invisible audience. A high-pitched whimper came out of his mouth as his thumb stroked the sensitive tip of his dick.

Instead of reacting appropriately and hiding behind the wall, your body froze up as your mind looked for an excuse for why you were standing there, watching him touch himself in your bathroom even though you had ‘allegedly’ granted him privacy.

Sorry, I thought you were calling me.

You opened your mouth to speak, but you realised that Jimin had not flinched from your presence, continuing with his ministrations. He hadn’t noticed you—he was too engrossed on the way his fingers felt around his cock to do so.

His pointy ears twitched in your direction. “Hmf, please, so good,” he groaned, throwing back his head to flex on his thick neck. It would look amazing with your hands or a collar around it.

But then he looked at you through his narrowed eyelids, and it clicked.

Jimin was putting on a show, bending his back and softening his grip on his dick so you could see his angry red tip. He was putting on a show for you to see. To test you. To challenge you, tease you, dare you to come and take him. And, Lord have mercy, you fell into his trap.

“Were you calling for me, kitten?” you asked from the doorframe.

He nodded eagerly. “It’s not enough, mommy. Can’t cum.”

You looked down at his cock, caged between his short fingers, as you approached him. It was a game, and perhaps he was asking you to play along, but you needed to be sure that he wanted you to ravish him.

As far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t make the first move. He wouldn’t ask for anything, not even your hand. Jimin wanted you to go to him, because it was worth it only if you wanted him. And to get it, the kitten knew he had to lure you in.

But you could play that game, too—Park Jimin wasn’t the only one who knew which buttons to push and which strings to pull to drive someone crazy. If he wanted to push you beyond your limits and make you go feral, he’d have to work for it and bear with the consequences.

“Not enough? What isn’t enough, Minnie? I won’t know unless you tell me,” you muttered, stroking the tip of one of his furry ears.

Jimin soon understood the way you were going to play, and it was hard for him to keep a smirk off his face as he continued to move his hand up and down his dick. “My hand, mommy. It’s not enough, doesn’t feel right.”

“How so?”

“Your puss-shit!” he finally moaned. You felt his warm, unbridled breath on your cheek as he pressed his chest against yours. “Your pussy, mommy, I need your pussy, I need to be inside of you and fill you up, spill it into your womb so good! Please, let me, mommy, I need-”

You cut him off. “You need it, don’t you? You can’t help it. You’re so naughty, Minnie, wanting to fill me up…”

“So naughty,” he parroted out of breath.

In your defence, you couldn’t say it’d be easy for you to deny him anything at this point, given how damn wet you were or the way you were throbbing down your belly. Hell, Minnie had ended up having the upper hand, the lusty kitten. His lewdness was unquestionable. He could ask you the world and you would give it to him.

“Poor little thing. Since you can’t help it,” you agreed.

Jimin could have your pussy, but you knew that, eventually, it wouldn’t be enough, and that he would ask for more, but he’d have to play on your terms.

“Let’s go to my room.” Taking his hand, you lead him to your bed. “Oh, kitten, there’s no need,” you said when he started taking off his trousers. “I know it’d be embarrassing for you. Keeping them down to your thighs will do. You don’t have to take off your jumper either.”

The disappointment that shone momentarily in his eyes tasted like honey.

He couldn’t argue with you, no matter how much he wanted to beg you so you’d let him strip for you. “O-okay…”

Just as he was not surprised to see that you had no intention of taking off more clothes than necessary either. Jimin crawled in silence across the mattress to you as you lay on your back after taking off your pyjama shorts and throwing them somewhere.

It was all fun and teasing and jerking off to turn you on until the boy finally processed the fact that he was kneeling between your legs, dick hard and freed, waiting for you to get rid of your knickers.

“What is it, Minnie?” you cooed. He had suddenly got even redder and his ears were turned back. His dilated pupils were looking straight at you. “We can stop this if you want, kitten, don’t worry. Just tell me and I-”

“I want this,” muttered Jimin.

Smiling fondly, you pet his ears. “Then what is it? Are you nervous?”

The way he nodded, nuzzling your neck in embarrassment, made you move your hands towards his cheeks and pinch them gently, smiling down at him.

You thought for a second what you’d do with your hands. If you followed the lines you’d mapped out for your game, you’d have to keep them still, but that felt sort of weird and, what the hell, you weren’t willing to stoop so low. You wanted to touch Jimin and you would, even if it meant playing his game.

“Ready, kitten?” you asked as you took off your wet underwear.

Encouraging him a bit, your hands then went to his back, nails sinking into his soft flesh to keep him grounded, and Jimin finally gathered the courage to thrust up into you.

You didn’t lie—it took you more effort than you first thought to shut up a groan when you felt the way his dick stretched you out. But you managed, somehow, and that allowed you to hear the little sob that came from his lips as you noticed his whole body going into overdrive and shivering over yours.

This was going to be more fun than you thought.

“Anytime, Minnie.”

Once Jimin bottomed out—which seemed to take a year and half a second all at once—he began to build up a pace that surely wasn’t enough for you, but that you hoped wouldn’t be enough for him, either. He was visibly holding back, teasing your labia with the tip of his dick as he watched your reaction. It was funnier than you expected, seeing him press his lips together every time you showed him nothing but a calm, soft, and encouraging smile.

But even Minnie’s dick had a limit, and you soon felt that he was getting closer to his orgasm. You needed to change your strategy.

“Do you mind if I pet your ears? They’re so soft.”

He’d come straight away if you did. Jimin needed to make you let your guard down first, make you go feral on him, kiss him with your teeth and caress him with your nails and mark him all over and spank his ass. You’d stroke his ears, call him a good kitten, and it’d be over before it could even start.

“May I?”

Jimin shut his eyes. “I-I’ll come if you do it.”

“Isn’t that the whole point, kitten?” you teased him, “Having you come inside my pussy so you can quench your needs.”

“But-” The boy went silent instantly when both of your hands moved to his ears, stroking the tips up and down with the pads of your thumbs. He cried into the curve of your neck, tensing his thighs as a last resort not to come in a flash. “Shit!”

“How long are you going to keep up this game of yours, you naughty kitty?” you asked, moving to grab the back of his neck so he’d look at you, but let go of him, tired.

He breathed against your chest, pressing his nose on the hem of your loose top. “This isn’t a game for me anymore. I’m your kitten, mommy. Claim me—claim me and I’ll be yours. I’ll be your Minnie so you can kiss me and bite me and mark me and-fuck!” Jimin couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into yours, the friction too good and the climax too close. “Fuck me! Fuck me all you want, as hard as you want!”

“Now that’s my kitten,” you smirked.

You only needed a tilt of your head to make him turn both of you over so you could straddle his lap and line up his dick with your cunt. The smirk on your face was indelible, and for Jimin it was priceless.

“I don’t know if I’ll last, mommy.”

Jimin drank from your caress on his cheek as if he hadn’t been touched in years. “You’ll last as long as I tell you to, kitten. Be good for me, will you?”

“Yes,” he groaned.

It was crazy. He had been smelling you from the very first moment, how wet you were, and how impassive you seemed despite rubbing your thighs together every time you thought he wasn’t looking. Jimin knew he could fill that emptiness as soon as you told him to. But he had to get his shit together—thinking about his dick buried deep in your soaking cunt wouldn’t help him hold his load.

Soon enough, you grabbed the hem of your shirt to take it off, making your tits bounce free as you gestured Jimin to follow your example and strip, something he did almost instantly.

“I want mommy’s milk.”

You stared at him in awe, wondering what on earth ‘mommy’s milk’ was. Your skim milk he seemed to love? “Does that mean that you wanna suck my tits?”

“Yeah, I want mommy’s milk,” he repeated, nuzzling your chest as he stared at your perky nipples.

Some cock-warming would do him good to cool down, so you fixed your posture on his lap and grabbed his nape gently to guide his lips into one of your breasts, holding your breath. That one was new for you, but you couldn’t say you were even a bit less excited than Jimin.

He sucked the areola into his mouth, flicking his tongue around your nipple and ripping a moan off your proudly smiling lips. “You’re so good, kitten, drinking so well from mommy.” His dick twitched inside of you and you swore, you heard Jimin whimper against your soft skin. “What was that, Minnie? You don’t agree with mommy? Don’t you believe that you’re doing incredibly well? Because you are, baby. So good to me.”

The kitten had his kinks, just like everyone else.

After taking a deep breath through his nose, the boy wrapped his lips around your nipple again, and you thought for a moment if he really thought milk would leak from your bud at some point.

“I’m gonna-shit, mommy, I’m so close.” His voice was muffled by your skin. “Let me cum, please, let me fill you up, fuck!” You clenched around him when one of your fingers travelled down your belly to rub your clit. You’d only need a minute to reach your climax. “You’re so tight, I can’t hold it! ”

“You will hold it, kitten, or else I’ll use your cum to lube your useless spent cock and fuck myself with it until you’re begging me to stop,” you growled.

That shouldn’t have turned him on even more. It really shouldn’t have. But the moan that came from the depths of his chest gave him away, and Jimin had to use forces he didn’t know he had in order not to cross that limit, so close yet so far, that kept him from coming inside of you.

“I know you can do it, kitten, you’re so good for me already,” you cooed, trying to encourage him, as your voice was getting higher, “Just like that, baby boy, you’re doing so good.”

It hit you like a hammer. You reached that sweet point that unravelled the knot in your belly, making your thighs shiver and your hips push against his, shoving his cock deeper into your cunt.

How he didn’t come despite having you clenching around him so tight, you didn’t know, but Jimin did let you know that he had felt it deep in his bones when his hands grabbed your ass to speed up and shove himself into you, moaning loudly between gasps with his mouth agape.

But you scoffed out of breath, looking down at him, and pushed his chest into the mattress, raising your hips off him. “You’re gonna cum on my terms or you’re not gonna cum at all.”

“Mommy?” he gasped, “What-what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” you growled in his ear, forcing his hands onto the metal raids of your bed headboard. Jimin got the idea instantly and grabbed them, using the grip to propel his hips and thrust up into you. “I’m mounting my pussycat, Minnie. Didn’t you say you were going to fill me up? That you were going to spill all your load into my womb?”

“Yes, yes, please! I’m gonna fill you up so good, mommy, so fucking good!”

God bless this boy’s stamina.

You pushed your hips down his dick with all the strength you could gather. The tip bumped your cervix a few times, not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough for you to feel it. Then his cock twitched over and over again, his heavy balls hardened under your ass.

“I-I’m coming, mommy, fuck, harder, please! Hug me, hug me!” he sobbed, you couldn’t help obliging your kitten. Jimin sank his face between your breasts, barely sucking on your skin as he couldn’t close his mouth, and shivered in your embrace, thrusting up erratically into you. “Shit-so good, so tight! Fuck, fuck, hm, yes!”

With a final groan, he spilled his cum into you and shoved it up your cunt to ride out his orgasm before coming down on you, totally and utterly spent by the time you raised your hips off his dick.

But your thighs didn’t betray you, and they let you at least reach the edge of the mattress so Jimin could breathe, away from your suffocating breasts, as much drawn as he seemed to be to them. Then you felt something wet down your belly, and you looked down at your crotch to see cum dripping down your inner thighs.

“Mommy, it’s leaking!” he pouted, lazily sticking a finger in your cunt to keep his load inside of you. It seemed to truly concern him.

“Mommy’s sensitive down there, kitten,” you hissed in response, “You can try and fill her up again tomorrow if you want, but now we should take a nap. You can barely move, baby, and I can see you can’t keep your eyes open.”

Jimin nodded and threw himself onto your mattress. “Promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“You don’t have to work tomorrow, do you, mommy?” You shook your head, lying next to him and covering you both with your bedspread. “And the next day? You always wake up so early on Mondays, mommy.”

You frowned, wondering how on earth did he know that you worked the morning shift on Mondays, but Jimin’s warm arms tangling up around your waist so he could lean his head on your chest made you think that there were weirder things on this world than your cat neighbour knowing your schedule by heart.

He was your kitten now, though—it was better if he knew.

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whyarewetrying · 2 years

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I wonder if I can keep restricting, keep emptying my stomach when anything gets past my mouth, if I can drop the weight I so desperately want to lose I’m near cutting it off, would I finally be beautiful? Will people finally see me as more then just my weight. Will I finally be gorgeous instead of funny? Pretty instead of interesting?

I know I shouldn’t care about what others think. Yet, I question if he would have stayed if I had been able to lose the weight when I still had him. I wonder if I never gained that “happy” weight if it would have stopped him from becoming cruel in our final months. If maybe there wouldn’t have needed to be a talk that lead to so much heartbreak.

I love when they say my weight doesn’t matter, because it matters enough to point it out, obviously. My moms pride when the number on the scale drops even though we both know it’s because I have been skipping dinner. My friends delightful shock when clothes that were form fitting not long ago now hang off me.

The way his eyes skim my body longer than a second when I’ve done good this month barely letting anything sit in my stomach.

There is a pressure that we all are feeling, a knowledge that skinny is the only desirable body type, and anything other than that is less. I mean who can blame them? I look in the mirror and am not sure if there is anything that I hate more in this world than the fat I can’t seem to keep off my body.

There’s always that “if” that hangs in the air “you would be pretty if...” “you’d be happier if...”

They act like I don’t want it too

They act as if I don’t put my body and mind through torture just to watch the number on the scale decrease

I want nothing more in my being than to be skinny

It is appalling that I can be so good at restricting food, I can purge anything that makes it past my mouth besides water, but this fat hangs stubbornly to me, as if to mock me.

I am not sure if anyone knows the depth I would go to just to be skinny, besides you who I am sure have come across this because there is an understanding most people couldn’t fathom.

I look at the way so many people I know eat guilt free, don’t have to count or wonder when they can make it to the bathroom, don’t have to pass on a plate even though their stomach grumbles. How comforting it must be to be content with your body, to not look at the thing meant to sustain you with such detest, you’d take a gamble of starving to death over letting it settle it your belly

There is a self-hate so deep within me to smile in the mirror after I empty the contents of my being into the toilet bowl. There is a shame in the way that even within this struggle I still am not skinny. There is a loathing in understanding that day may never come no matter how large my hunger continues to grow.

My mind is tired, tired from a hate so intense I decide torture is my only option.

A loneliness so great, here I am writing about it because I know they would look at me bewildered if I told them.

The one person I’ve told has not told me to stop, has not told me I don’t need to starve myself to be pretty. The one person I told seems to think as well this is what I deserve for being fat, this is what I need to do to be more human.

So hopefully a day will come where I will be skinny enough, but I doubt it. At least for now, the number is dropping no matter how slowly, and I’ve become good at ignoring the hollow feeling in my belly.

Maybe I’ll never be skinny but at least you can’t say I didn’t try.

#anamia #anorexik #anorexi4 #bulimxa #buliimix #tw ed thoughts #anorecik

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cruelfeline · 4 years

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Being in a medical field, I’ve always had a morbid curiosity about Hordak’s defects. And I think it’s high time I made a proper list, don’t y’all?

Come. It’ll be fun!

kind of I mean it’s kind of depressing to look at it all in one go but whatever let’s go!

Altered Pigmentation/Possible Scarring

We now know that a Horde clone should have a white face and an otherwise blue-grey body. The white on Hordak’s trunk and arms shouldn’t be there, though whether the skin there is normal and simply missing color, or actually diseased, is unknown.

The darker blue, somewhat vein-like tissue located where white meets the normal blue-grey does look like it is legitimately abnormal. It is hard to say if this is diseased tissue, scar tissue, or some other problematic lesion. It may be directly due to the defect, or perhaps it is a result of attempts at self-cure.

Cachexia (vs. Emaciation)

Hordak has the typical look of what should be a fairly large humanoid man who has lost a severe amount of weight and muscle mass. The bones of his arms, his spinous processes, and his ribs, are overly visible. One can also appreciate the odd-looking, sharp definition of his shoulders: this exists because his arm, neck, and shoulder muscles have wasted significantly, leaving the bones very sharp and prominent. This gives the illusion of large shoulders, when really, his limbs are so wasted, that the clavicles and shoulder bones simply overshadow them.

Emaciation refers to severe weight loss, involving both fat and muscle, due to starvation or malnutrition. Generally, fat is lost prior to muscle, as this is a condition caused by inadequate caloric and nutrient uptake. It can be a result of simply not getting enough food, or of not being able to digest and absorb that food properly. Once the lack of nutrients is addressed, emaciation can be reversed.

Cachexia, on the other hand, refers to severe weight loss involving predominantly skeletal muscle tissue that is not entirely responsive to appropriate nutrition. This is a complex syndrome that is associated with multiple serious illnesses in humans, including but not limited to muscular dystrophy, neurodegenerative diseases, congestive heart failure, chronic kidney disease, and cancer. It differs from emaciation in that it is not predominantly due to inadequate nutritional intake, but rather due to metabolic changes caused by various illnesses. Even with good nutrition, it cannot be entirely reversed.

It’s hard to be absolutely certain which issue Hordak suffers from, but given that Horde nutrition is likely efficient and complete, I’d guess that the defect causes cachexia rather than emaciation. Even if Hordak had issues digesting nutrients, I’m sure he could find a way to intravenously feed himself. Such feeding, however, would not be able to fully address cachexia.

The predominant symptom of cachexia would be weakness, though more dangerous issues can occur as certain muscles are affected: if throat muscles or the diaphragm are affected, swallowing and breathing issues can occur.

Muscular Atrophy and/or Aplasia

Hordak is missing a significant number of muscles in his forearms, along with the interosseous membrane that should be connecting his radius and ulna. I’ve got a lovely post specifically about this right here. to be brief: he is missing the muscles that would allow him to move his hands and fingers. The nerves and blood vessels crossing that region are also either missing or moved to run along his bones, leading to potential vulnerabilities.

It is uncertain, as of now, if these missing tissues are the result of atrophy or aplasia. Atrophy refers to a tissue wasting away, while aplasia indicates that the tissues never formed in the first place. Either way, the clinical signs are likely similar: inability to perform the movements said muscles are responsible for. In addition, his arms are likely more fragile due to the missing muscle and connective tissues. His ability to lift heavier objects is probably impaired without technology, while an enemy’s ability to seriously injure his forearms is likely higher.

I suspect he’s using internal cybernetics to compensate for this when bare-armed, while the armor provides him with appropriate strength for all of his rage-throwing needs.

Altered Mucous Membrane/Ocular Pigmentation

I am putting one fucking cute picture of him in here you can’t stop me

Hordak’s red eyes and mouth are, according to one of the character designers, part of his defect. Whether this is simply a coloration issue, or whether it is connected to his individuality and free will, remains to be seen. Likely something we’ll learn more about next season!

Syncope

At this point, we have witnessed Hordak suffer an episode of what appears to be syncope once.

Syncope is the medical term for what most know as “fainting” and can be defined as a sudden loss of consciousness due to transient inadequate blood flow, and thus oxygenation, to the brain. Recovery is generally spontaneous. Syncope is thus different from loss of consciousness due to other issues, such as seizures, low blood sugar, or stroke. Given that Hordak’s loss of consciousness was rapid, with likewise rapid recovery and no evidence of convulsions, it is likely that the episode was one of syncope, rather than a seizure or other issue.

While many different conditions can result in syncope, the cause can generally be divided into three main categories: reflex, orthostatic hypotension, and cardiovascular.

Reflex syncope is the most common kind and involves a neurologically-mediated drop in blood pressure. Some sort of trigger activates an inappropriate cardiovascular reflex via the autonomic nervous system (the part of our nervous system responsible for unconsciously regulating our bodily functions). For example: stimulation of certain nerves due to emotional stress, pain, coughing, or a variety of other triggers can lead to simultaneous vasodilation, decreased heartrate, and low blood pressure, resulting in interruption of cerebral blood flow and, therefore, syncope. This is the most common cause of syncope and what most people think of when imagining people fainting in fear, for example.

Orthostatic hypotension refers specifically to a drop in blood pressure upon standing. While this is something that can, in mild form, happen to anyone, orthostatic hypotension is most often seen in the elderly and in those on certain medications or with certain medical conditions. It is essentially an issue caused by the body not being able to properly account for the blood pooling caused by gravity, leading to decreased blood flow to the brain and thus syncope.

Cardiac syncope encompasses loss of consciousness caused by a failure of the heart itself to pump blood to the brain, either due to structural defects in the heart, or due to cardiac arrhythmia that prevents efficient cardiac output. Low output leads to low blood flow to the brain, leads to syncope.

Given that Hordak was already up and standing when he fainted, orthostatic hypotension seems a less likely cause for his episode, though given that he raised his upper body suddenly, it is still possible. Both reflex syncope and cardiac syncope appear viable, though without physically examining him and/or knowing specifics on his cardiac health, it is impossible to tell what the true cause was. Given his emotional outburst, reflex syncope is a real possibility, but if his defect involves his heart in any way, altering either structure or rhythm, then cardiac syncope is likewise a reasonable differential. Or, if he’s particularly unlucky, he could potentially be at risk for suffering from syncope for multiple reasons, mediated by both neurological issues and cardiac problems.

Well! I think that about covers what we’ve seen at this point. I will say that it’s hard to put a specific name to Hordak’s condition (though I feel like some sort of neuromuscular disease or dystrophy, genetic or otherwise, appears likely) without knowing all of the specific ins and outs of his issues, but this list at least covers the visible, clinical signs.

I didn’t really go into the armor-related shocks that he experiences in times of over-activity or stress, as these seem less biological and more mechanical in nature and can likely be mediated by improvements to his armor.

As the series goes on, I’ll likely update this post with additional information, if we get any! For now, I hope it serves as a fun curiosity for some of you, or even a writing resource, if desired. Enjoy!

#hordak #entrapdak #she ra #i legit only put these things into the entapdak tag because i know where y'all live

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watch-grok-brainrot · 4 years

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Attempt the Impossible

Untamed Spring Fest Day 5 (I’m ~15 min late for my timezone, oops)

(Notes: ~2k words, post canon, canon (CQL) compliant, food focused, dreams, memories, Sizhui being darling, happy ending, not beta-read, this got much longer than i anticipated....)

Lan Sizhui bolted awake from a dream. Something must not be forgotten. But what was it? There was so much vivid detail… if only he could remember.

His dreams have become more vivid since he returned to Cloud Recesses. Sizhui assumed his visit to Burial Mounds with Wen Ning was the root cause. The visit had unlocked so many memories from before Cloud Recesses. Lately, these memories would present themselves as dreams. The dreams weren’t nightmares but they did overwhelm Sizhui with scenes from the Wen remnant camp -- Lady Wen bantering with Senior Wei, Granny Wen taking care of everyone, 4th uncle making fruit wine, the desolate landscape being coaxed back to life by Senior Wei’s wild ideas.

Tonight’s dream brought Sizhui back to a day when Wen Ning and Senior Wei had gone into town to sell turnips. After returning, Senior Wei seemed distracted. Although he tried to hide it, Wen Ning, Wen Qing, Granny Wen, and even little A-Yuan could tell something was amiss. Suddenly, Senior Wei stood up and announced he would explore new culinary options for their establishment by growing lotus. Sizhui smiled at the memory of Senior Wei knee deep in mud, rambling about lotus roots and lotus pods.

Lotus roots and lotus pods! Of course! That night Wen Ning had brought a cold bowl of soup to feed him. It was Sizhui’s first taste of lotus root. Little bits of congealed fat floated on top of broth in a small green porcelain bowl. Wen Ning fed him a spoonful at first to see if he would like it. The richness of the fat was balanced by the sweetness of the broth and--

Sizhui’s eyes widened and he jumped out of bed. It was early October, towards the end of lotus root season and getting exceedingly close to Senior Wei’s birthday. He must speak with Hanguang-Jun. Senior Wei often attempted impossible seeming things; it was Sizhui’s turn this time.

----

“Hanguang-Jun, I would like to request permission to visit Yunmeng and Lotus Pier for the purpose of obtaining materials for a birthday present for Senior Wei,” Lan Sizhui proclaimed, kneeling before his father.

Lan Wangji put down the papers he was reading and stared at his son. “A birthday present?”

“Yes. I would also like to invite Sect Leaders Jiang and Jin to visit Cloud Recesses in late October for Senior Wei’s birthday.” Sizhui did not look up.

“Sizhui, I expected more sense from you. Sect Leaders Jiang and Jin’s relationship with Wei Ying is complicated,” Lan Wangji picked up the papers and continued reading.

“Hanguang-Jun, I promise to exercise good judgement. Please indulge me in this,” Sizhui said undaunted. “I want to… to attempt the impossible.”

At the Yunmeng motto, Lan Wangji gazed intently at his son. No, Sizhui was also Wei Ying’s son, which meant he would want to attempt something crazy. But if he’s anything like Wei Ying, that crazy just might work. “Alright. Proceed. Take sufficient provisions and Jingyi with you.”

“Thank you Hanguang-Jun!” Sizhui looked up with a huge smile plastered on his face. “I will go find Jingyi immediately.”

---

The next few weeks passed quickly. Sizhui and Jingyi hermitted themselves outside the walls of Cloud Recesses. Other disciples reported that the two juniors made multiple trips between Yunmeng and Gusu, hauling baskets with them every trip.

By the time Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling arrived at Cloud Recesses, Sizhui and Jingyi felt ready to show Wei Wuxian their efforts.

“Sect Leader Jiang, Sect Leader Jin,” Sizhui said, bowing at the uncle and nephew duo. “Please follow me this way.” He led them to the student dormitories where Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Yanli stayed during their time studying at Cloud Recesses.

Stepping over the bamboo threshold, Jiang Cheng, took in the sight of the old stone tables and benches. Memories of Wei Wuxian carrying cooked fish on sticks and Jiang Yanli serving soup filled his head. Swallowing, Jiang Cheng reminded himself those memories were from half a lifetime ago. He would never get to have A-Jie’s soup or be so comfortable with Wei Wuxian again.

Jin Ling looked around the dormitories with disdain. “Why did you bring us here? Are we not guests?”

Sizhui bowed politely, “Lan sect rule dictates that food within Cloud Recesses proper must be vegetarian. I have prepared a meal for you that requires our eating outside of Cloud Recesses grounds. Afterwards, Jingyi and I will personally escort Sect Leader Jiang and Jin to your rooms within Cloud Recesses, if you desire.”

As he spoke, he noticed Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji stepping across the threshold. “Hanguang-Jun, Senior Wei! Please, have a seat here. I cannot wait to get your feedback on my cooking!” Sizhui beamed at his fathers and ushered them to sit down next to Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling. He then hurried towards the kitchens.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian exchanged polite nods. Jin Ling folded his arms across his chest and eyed Lan Wangji cautiously. Lan Wangji watched Jiang Cheng with a mildly disinterested expression.

Wei Wuxian broke the tension, “I don’t know what our son is thinking, inviting you two over and cooking for us… but he’s such a good kid, let’s just indulge him.”

“He’s older than I am!” Jin Ling started to argue.

“Yes. But isn’t it nice that your Sizhui-gege is cooking you dinner?” Wei Wuxian smiled dismissively and reached over to pat Jin Ling on the head.

“You-” Jin Ling’s outcry was cut off by Jiang Cheng.

“Wei Wuxian, he is now the Jin Clan Sect Leader. Show him respect.”

Wei Wuxian gave his estranged brother an awkward smile, nodded, and pulled back his hand. “Right. Right. I shouldn’t disrespect a sect leader like this.” He looked away at an old wutong tree in the courtyard. The branches were almost bare.

Jiang Cheng huffed, “At least you have the decency to sound like a human.”

At this time, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi started bringing out dishes. Two green and two white vegetarian dishes were placed on the table interspersed with bright red, oily, meat based dishes. In the middle, Sizhui set down a tray with an earthenware pot.

“Senior Wei, Sect Leader Jiang,” Sizhui paused and took a deep breath. His next words rushed out, as if he would lose the courage to speak them if he slowed down. “I recently remembered a delicious bowl of cold soup I had as a child. I have attempted to recreate it for you two. I don’t know if you’ll like it but I made sure to try my recipe both while it was hot and after it had fully cooled down. I would like you to know I mean no disrespect, but thought maybe it would bring back happy memories.” With that, Sizhui lifted the lid of the pot, revealing lotus root and pork rib soup.

As the steam rose into the cold October air, Jingyi and Sizhui quickly served the soup to the four people sitting around the table.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng’s hands trembled as they took their bowls of soup. When the steam hit his face, Wei Wuxian breathed in the steam. The rich meat aroma of the pork ribs were cut by a barely perceptible hint of ginger and sweetness of lotus. Sizhui had managed to recreate Shijie’s soup’s aroma. He quickly spooned some broth into his mouth. The fat and the sweet and the pork flavors melded together just like Shijie’s. He looked over at Jiang Cheng and noticed Jiang Cheng had become blurry.

“Hey, Jiang Cheng, my son did a pretty good job, didn’t he?” Wei Wuxian asked, blinking back tears.

“He’s never had it before. He’s never met her before. How? I’ve tried and I can’t even recreate it like this,” Jiang Cheng answered, too shocked to argue. He shook his head and blinked twice, forcing his own tears back.

“Sect Leader Jiang, I did have the soup once, when I was a child. Wen Ning brought it back to me in the Burial Mounds after he and Senior Wei went to town to sell turnips.”

Jiang Cheng looked up at Sizhui incredulously, “And you remembered it?”

Sizhui’s face softened into a wistful smile. “When it’s the most amazing food you’ve had for over a year, it stands out. I had forgotten after Hanguang-Jun brought me here but I remembered again recently. I wanted to try my hand at it since I enjoy cooking. Jingyi and I bought the lotus from Yunmeng and flew it back by sword for this soup. Is it satisfactory? Do you like it, Jin Ling?”

Jin Ling looked between Wei Wuxian, Lan Sizhui, and his uncle. “Did I miss the significance of this soup? It’s really good, but it’s just soup, right?”

“Jin Ling, Sizhui here has duplicated the best soup in the world! This is what your mom’s lotus root and pork rib soup tastes like exactly. You can’t make it unless you use fresh Yunmeng lotus root.” Jiang Cheng’s voice was soft as he explained to Jin Ling. He didn’t know whether to cry at the realization that Jin Ling didn’t know what A-jie’s soup tasted like or to laugh knowing someone else alive can make itl.

“Why didn’t you just ask to cook at Lotus Pier?” Jiang Cheng asked, turning to Sizhui. “Lotus root isn’t light and it’s a long way to travel.”

“We did not feel it appropriate to impose,” Sizhui answered, studying Jin Ling who stared at the soup and started savoring it slowly.

“Nonsense, we’re all family. Your parents pretty much got married at Lotus Pier, or did they fail to mention that?” Jiang Cheng replied with a wave of his hand. “That means you’re more or less part of the Jiang family too.”

“No, we had no right to be there that night. I had been kicked out of the Jiang sect,” Wei Wuxian spoke up, tone bitter.

“You know as well as I do that it was all originally for show. Had you not told me to give up on you, I would have tried to protect you those years ago. Had A-Jie and Jin Zixuan not been murdered, we probably would have found a way to protect all the Wen remnants too.”

“Yunmeng wasn’t strong enough yet. You know Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao wanted my Yinhufu and would have done anything to get it. And those reasons don’t change the fact that you kicked me out.”

Jin Ling looked between his uncles as they argued, piecing together their family history. He continued to savor the soup as if no other food would ever be able to satiate him. Tears formed in his eyes but this time warmth started replacing the loneliness in his chest.

“Fine, I un-kick you out then. I’m in charge. I can do that. I’ll eat my words just like you ate yours. Even if you married into the Gusu Lan sect, you can come back to Yunmeng Jiang whenever you want. I --”

Jiang Cheng’s words were cut off by Wei Wuxian flinging his arms around his brother. “Last time I was so stupid. Last time I pushed you away. I’ve learned from Lan Zhan how to express my feelings more directly and --”

“Lan Wangji?! He doesn’t emote at all! How can you learn from him?” Jiang Cheng hollered, elbowing Wei Wuxian out of the way. He pointed a finger at Lan Wangji. “Look at him. He’s had the same expression on his face since you two stepped into this courtyard!”

Wei Wuxian punched Jiang Cheng in the shoulder. “It’s not my fault you’re too emotionally stunted to read facial expressions.”

He then turned to Jin Ling and started serving the young sect leader more soup, “Drink up Jin Ling. Don’t pay attention to your uncle’s lack of emotional depth. You can learn what good relationships are like by hanging out with me and Lan Zhan.”

“Drink up, Jin Ling. Don’t listen to your Uncle Wei. He’s too idiotically in love to make sense.”

After serving themselves, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi sat down at the table to eat. Sizhui nodded at his father and slightly bowed his head, ”What do you think, Hanguang-Jun, did I achieve it?”

Lan Wangji’s lips pulled back a millimeter while watching his husband reconnect with Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling, “Mn. Cloud Recesses will become even more lively.”

#untamed spring fest #fresh #food cw #lsz is a great cook #jl will probably need therapy #jc and wwx work through some things #lwj dotes on his husband and his kid #lwj #wwx #lsz #wangxian but not wangxian focused #ljy as a bkgd character #domesticity #wangxian fluff

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olivieblake · 5 years

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We have an English paper in which we can write about any academic topic or whatever and I was thinking of writing mine on expecting more from our female characters (I guess mostly in terms of a personality), especially in YA novels since that's what most people my age read, plus I was thinking of somehow including the "not like other girls" thing when its brought to life in the form of a character... anyway, do you have any thoughts/suggestions on this?

I have so much to say that I’m going to try to break it down to bullet points, okay? I’d answer in a vlog but I know you’re working on a paper that I assume is due soon, so I’ll try to be succinct and possibly (possibly!) organized.

I’ve talked before about the fallacy of scarcity, which in this case is the idea that in a male-dominated world, only a few women can succeed. This is applicable in the professional realm, of course, where women in a male-dominated field (aka historically all of them except maybe the sex industry and witchcraft) are competing for fewer spots, and therefore women must tear each other down in order to be the one to get ahead. This is a fallacy primarily because there’s no reason only a few women should succeed outside of the patriarchal system positioning us as rivals rather than allies; isolating us that way is, in a sense, a very effective subjugation (but that’s a point for another time.) In romances, this idea somehow permeates our narratives: that there are only a few good men (arguably true) and therefore we are all competing against each other for them (definitely false).

In romances especially, there’s this idea that one woman prevails because she is a specific subset of qualities; as I mentioned in my discussion of Jane Eyre, Brontë uses Jane’s narrative to highlight how Jane is clever, devoted, headstrong, whereas other girls are not. In modern YA, the “not like other girls” character prevails because she has offbeat interests, quirky opinions, she doesn’t care how she looks, etc. (See below re: male-approved qualities.) But first of all, this is not how relationships work. You do not win someone’s affection by possessing a list of qualities that other women don’t have. That’s issue number one.

Now add in the fallacy of scarcity, aka that you are competing with other women and therefore you must be different and better in order to win. What does this do in reality? It pits women against each other. It presumes there to be more or less value in the way in which you are a woman. But consider this: why should caring about your looks be a sign of stupidity or vapidness when there are entire industries devoted to making women—and especially teen girls—feel ugly or fat or generally imperfect? This is worse for POC women who are underrepresented and criticized for their otherness, of course, but on the whole, women are targets for a marketplace of self-hatred. Adding in the internal misogyny of “I am better than this girl because my desirability meets a male standard for behavior and hers does not” is not helping us. (Besides, the “not like other girls” is usually told she’s beautiful, isn’t she? So it rather undermines the whole thing, and creates an even more impossible standard for perfection: i.e., that you should be perfect without trying.)

Elena Ferrante (by way of Lenù) says something in the Neapolitan Novels about how she’s male in her head, or essentially has taught herself to think like a man, and this is how she has succeeded in her career. This is essentially the same concept as the underlying foundation for the “not like other girls” archetype: a beautiful woman who acts and thinks like a man (and who doesn’t know she’s beautiful, of course, because vanity is a characteristic belonging to Evil Women who ultimately prey on men; yikes!! Poor, poor men). Can you see why this might be more conducive to keeping men in a position of privilege rather than contributing to us raising each other up? Men set an unrealistic standard, and for some reason, women police each other with it. We are women, with women’s experiences; there is no reason we should act or think like men, and yet for some reason we force each other into the same woman-shaped hole by shaming each other for the pieces of ourselves that don’t fit.

The last fallacy is that of the “not like other girls” being a “cool girl,” aka someone who does not have emotional needs. Someone said this brilliantly recently that there is a pervasive belief among women that in order to be worthy of being loved, you must require as little as possible. Carrie Fisher says something interesting in her autobiography about how Harrison Ford “taught her how to be casual,” which I think is a common experience for young women. Yes, boys are often conditioned to reject the “femininity” of emotion and this is equally problematic, but I’m not going to worry about them right now. I want to focus on the idea that as a result of male emotional detachment, women learn that reluctance or ambivalence to make demands is a desirable quality; i.e., they will want us more if we need them less. We are conditioned over and over—particularly as teenage girls—to need less, to demand less, to ask for less. The entire romance genre is built on this idea that a man will one day come along and save us; not from a tower (we’ve progressed at least that much) but from loneliness or desire. That there is a man who will not only know our secret wants, but also give them to us without us having to say what they are. But not only is this unreasonable to expect, it’s unhealthy for both genders. The man who can read your mind or who knows intuitively how to love you does not exist; especially if he is unpracticed in loving others.

I would argue that yes, we should honor our female characters by expecting more from our authors—more truth, more sensitivity, more awareness—but this can manifest by expecting, in some senses, less. There is no universal woman (certainly no Perfect Woman) and thus, female characters should not all feel the same. They should also be allowed to have flaws, and to grow as they go. There shouldn’t be one girl who is so different from the others that only she can be the victor; this is in some senses expecting too much, and also implying all the fallacies above.

IN CONCLUSION (lol), true diversity is about expressing reality; not that there should be an array of female personalities because different female personalities need to be provided, but because the world is occupied by a wide variety of women who ARE deeply unique even while we are sharing the same universal human experience. The same argument goes for just about anything, gender (or nonbinary) experiences in addition to race, ethnicity, religion, culture, sexuality, etc.

#Anonymous #hmmm how to tag this #I'm going to say #writing advisements #even though it isn't really #feminism #big sistering #i really want to teach a course about the sociology of romance novels #put it on the vision board #not like other girls

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thedreadvampy · 3 years

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Ok so like I don't really want to kick off another round of Mondays argument but

having had a bit of time to step back I feel pretty confident in saying that there's a real struggle in a lot of communities to understand and accept the concept of conflicting access needs

Like it isn't fundamentally an act of bigotry against Person A when Person B says 'this thing that helps you harms others', nor is it implying that A or B is 'less oppressed' or that their oppression doesn't matter. But these kinds of access conflicts need to be talked about in order to be addressed.

Like in a sphere I spend more time taking about, disability and neurodivergence, where this comes up a Lot - say wheelchair users need the entrance to be a ramp, but somebody with balance issues finds walking up a ramp difficult and often fall. Saying 'it's a problem for me that there are only ramps in this building' doesn't mean you think that it's unimportant that wheelchair users can get in, or that your needs matter more.

Or like, here's an example that's come up a lot for me lately - automated subtitles. Some people find automated subtitles on Zoom calls make meetings possible (people with hearing or audio processing issues particularly) but others find them distracting and find it impossible to focus. Those two things are incompatible needs - you can't both have subtitles and not have subtitles in this context - but that doesn't mean one of them is Real and Important and the other is Fake and Irrelevant just because that would make it easier.

One last example of this in material terms - I am autistic and have real problems with audio processing when I'm tired. I went to a workshop in a smallish space, so the workshop was quite near the crèche. Having a crèche is a vital access need for a lot of people; lone parents and working class mothers in general are often very left out of activist and social spaces because of a lack of childcare. But for me, it created an insurmountable problem - the noise from the crèche meant I couldn't take in any information, I was exhausted and stressed and in pain the whole time, you know? It wouldn't be fair to ask the crèche to shut or to silence the children, who need and deserve the right to play, but equally it wouldn't be fair to tell me I'm selfish or lying for having trouble following the session.

Anyway so that's access clash. Different people have different needs that may be fundamentally incompatible, but they're equally valid needs.

But access clash isn't just personal, it's also political, social and linguistic. And this kind of feeds into a recurrent issue in groups of marginalised people where there's a persistent desire to decide in any given argument Whose Marginalisation Matters More and to accuse the other of lying/arguing in bad faith/ignoring erasing The Struggle.

Some recent examples of that phenomenon in the TMA fandom (pokes bear pokes bear) might be:

1. It's aphobic to say that there's any problem at all with framing fat, traumatised MLM as virginal or naive or inexperienced or non-sexual, because he could be ace and that's important to ace people. But fat, traumatised and gay people have a history of being desexualised, given less sexual and romantic agency, and infantilised or objectified as cute and pure in a way that thin, non-survivor or straight people don't. One way to approach this is to say One Of These Issues Is Important And Valid And That Means The Other Is Being Homophobic/Fatphobic/Ableist/Aphobic and Targeting Marginalised People With Invalid Criticism. That's a very easy task to fall into but it's important imo to make space for the access clash.

2. Bisexual people want an event that focuses on bisexuality. Non-bisexual people want an event that focuses on their own sexuality. Everyone's desire in this situation is to see their own experience reflected.

There's this kind of hierarchy of truth idea where anything that conflicts with what you know to be true must necessarily be false, but the fact is that human experience is infinitely complex and variable so actually something that's undeniably true for some people will always run into some friction with what's undeniably true for others.

And there's such a strong impulse towards assuming that the other is lying or arguing in bad faith, because you KNOW your need is real and important and it conflicts with their needs and that MUST mean they're doing it At You, or in the extreme that they're actively lying to hurt and belittle you. And that's a really natural and understandable impulse, especially among marginalised people who ARE often hurt, manipulated and belittled in bad faith. But I really think that as a community we need to actively work to undercut the idea that oppression is a zero sum game; that if you having the space you need treads on my toes, I can say "you're on my foot and it hurts" without Secretly Meaning "you don't deserve space and shouldn't be given it." Like I do authentically need an untrodden-on foot and you do authentically need enough space to stand in and it's not undermining the truth of either of those statements to acknowledge the other.

idk I just think. Understanding that the other person may have an authentic need being intent/overridden (even though the need may not be what they think it is!) is a pretty important part of conflict management. and believing that if I say "ow you trod on my foot" means I'm actively trying to undermine your need for space is a pretty important part of how conflict escalates into oblivion until I'm yelling YOU DON'T DESERVE STANDING SPACE GO GET CRUSHED and you're yelling I'M GOING TO STAMP ON YOUR FOOT UNTIL IT BREAKS

idk if that makes sense but 🤷‍♀️

#thedreadvampy adiscourse #IT'S DISCOURSE THURSDAY LADIES AND GERMS

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alewyren · 4 years

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tumblr is dead but I’m gonna post my thoughts on Inuyasha here too for archiving purposes. cw for (non-detailed) discussion of sexual assault and suicide wrt kikyo

OKAY. SO. MY THOUGHTS ON INUYASHA. warning for some INCREDIBLY hot takes.

it. sure was a journey. I am not sure if I liked the series overall or not. It had some legit good/touching moments, but it dragged SO LONG and there were a lot of things I thought could've been handled better. But it was fun liveblogging it for sure. And I got NarKik out of it, which snapped me out of my year-long creative dry spell, so it was at least a net positive time investment LMFAO.

I liked... mmmmost of the characters? sango, sesshoumaru, kagura, kanna, naraku, kohaku, K I K Y O, and even kagome were all Good. On the flipside, Inuyasha himself is FUCKING TERRIBLE and he sucks and I hate him. Emotional immaturity ain't cute, he gets everything handed to him on a silver platter, rarely apologizes for being a selfish prick, and the other characters are WAY too forgiving of his bullshit. I got tired of the tsundere het romance cliches between him and Kagome pretty fast, as well as how often he was jealous of her. Like, Kagome's insecurities over Kikyo I can legit understand (despite being #1 Kikyo Fucker). But whenever she's so much as civil with Kouga and Inuyasha's all HANDS OFF MY WOMAN I'm like... dude shut up you two-timing hypocrite. If You Like It Then You Should’ve Put A Ring On It. Credit where credit is due tho, they did chill out over time and some of their moments together towards the end of the series were legit sweet. I'm pretty meh on Inukag overall, and iffy on the resolution of her moving to his era permanently, but that last panel of him greeting her as she came out of the well gave me a Feel.

(Actually, on that note, it... would have been legit kind of hella if the series had ended with Inuyasha himself permanently moving to the modern era? Aside from their friends he had far fewer attachments in his world than she did hers, and there's so much more potential with him having to adapt to the modern era, lol. ALTERNATIVELY, kikyo lives and she switches places with kagome and makes a new life for herself in the modern era. thus letting her truly live as a normal girl. But I'll Get To Kikyo Later. smh)

The premise of the series is actually pretty strong, though of course you can poke holes in it. To my knowledge it was the first isekai anime that really took off, and the driving plot of collecting the Shikon fragments is excellent monster of the week material (though I'm not really a monster of the week fan myself). Also, youkai are awesome. Focusing the series on real-world mythology makes my Shin Megami Tensei heart very excited.

I know the series runs on emotion rather than logic, but I REALLY have some questions here. The fact that the well is explicitly stated to take Kagome back in time rather than to another world makes no sense at all. First of all, where are all the youkai in the present day? Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru are at least a couple hundred years old, right? What happened to them in that 500 year timespan? Surely some creature or another from the series would have naturally survived that long. So what happened? Was there a mass-youkai extinction somewhere along the line? Shouldn't this be cause for concern? Also, do Kagome's time-traveling actions create a stable time loop or a branching timeline? If Naraku won in the past, how would that affect the present? The two eras are just completely isolated from each other and I really don't get it. That kind of stuff. Yeah yeah I know MST3K mantra and all but MAN this bothers me.

Which brings me to Exhibit A of stuff I think should have gone differently: Kagome should have stayed the protagonist, and the modern era should have gotten more focus. Not as in her day-to-day school shenanigans, but stuff touching on the questions listed above. There's just a lot of untapped potential regarding How This Shit Works, rather than confining the story pretty much entirely to the Sengoku Jidai With Youkai. Also there could be plenty of shenanigans with characters OTHER than Kagome and Inuyasha hanging out in the present. LIKE KIKYO. okay yeah my kikyo bias is showing but it would be the perfect opportunity to 1. hide her from naraku (unless he found a way into the present, but that just ties into my previous point), 2. develop her friendship with Kagome. Which would have done both of them wonders. BUT I'LL GET TO KIKYO LATER. (I'm dying imagining Kagome introducing Kikyo to her schoolmates as her cousin and taking her shopping though..... teaching her how to ordinary human... like..... HHH.)

Anyway, Kagome as the protagonist. She was very much the protagonist at the start of the series--she took a more active role in a lot of the monster of the week conflicts, and just had a lot more focus and screentime in general. Then Inuyasha got his sword upgrades and her role in conflicts became reduced to sensing Shikon fragments and occasional use of arrows. It took until the last hundred chapters for her to get ANY sort of substantial power-up, and it felt... unearned? I had been looking forward to her developing her miko powers alongside Inuyasha's youkai powers, and getting bow upgrades to match his Tessaiga upgrades, but it just... didn't happen. Her miko powers having been sealed all along felt like an ass pull, and I wasn't really a fan of the test of character she had to go through in order to get the fancy bow upgrade being solely focused on overcoming her feelings of jealousy towards Kikyo... again... like it's valid for her to feel that way but we've been here already! Surely there's more to her character than this! I think it would've been awesome if she actually got some fights of her own too, and maybe Kaede and eventually Kikyo mentoring her growth as a miko? But as far as canon went, it just felt like she got shallower and less interesting over time as Inuyasha slowly took over the protagonist role and that was a damn shame. Let Kagome be the plucky isekai protagonist she was always meant to be! This, of course, ties in with my assertion that the modern era should have gotten more focus too.

okay, so. it's time. kikyo. Kikyo. I fucking LOVE kikyo, absolutely my fave chara, I was not expecting to love Kikyo this much lmao. All that ship war propaganda was a big fat lie. She has an ASTONISHINGLY mature narrative about the effect of tragedy and trauma on people and relationships, but it was SO under-utilized and shafted in favor of the Love Triangle and Inuyasha's Manpain and I'm FUCKING UPSET. Kikyo was (or at least had the makings to be) the best character in Inuyasha but she was not done justice at all, in this essay I

Like, sit down and think about it. Here we have a woman who lost her parents at a young age, taking on the responsibilities of her household, and training to be a miko on top of it--which in the world of Inuyasha is a very emotionally demanding position that requires her to basically devote her entire life to her duties, ESPECIALLY once she's entrusted with the Shikon Jewel. All while being required to live a life of asceticism and suppressing worldly desires. In short, she basically never had a chance to actually, like. Live. Keep in mind that she was a child/teenager throughout all this (she was 17/18 when she died). That's a LOT of pressure on someone that young.

At this point, she's understandably lonely and depressed, and then along comes Inuyasha. She falls in love with him, gets a taste of a life that would truly make her happy, and has it ripped away. Like, there's some really fucking dark subtext to the whole Onigumo plot. She shows kindness to a random stranger, who proceeds to make a deal with the devil to LITERALLY RAPE HER, and her life is ruined as a result. No, Kikyo wasn't literally raped in canon, because even though Onigumo wanted to rape her Naraku's intentions towards her were... more complicated if still incredibly fucked up, but good lord the subtext is THERE. And as a result of the ensuing incident, believing Inuyasha betrayed her, she straight up KILLS HERSELF. Yes, it was partly to protect the Shikon Jewel, but she did not want to come back to life. Let that sink in. Kikyo was driven to suicide by an incident incited by a man who took advantage of her kindness in order to rape her. (nostalgia critic voice) FAMILY PICTURE!

I'm not gonna pretend Kikyo was the only victim here, though. Inuyasha has pretty clear PTSD from the event too, even after learning Kikyo is innocent. But through his relationship with Kagome, he begins to heal and move on. Then Kikyo gets brought back as a clay zombie, fucks up his whole grieving process, kickstarts the love triangle, you know the story. Kikyo's perspective is actually really interesting to dig into though. She didn't want to be brought back. She's PISSED. Even when the dust settles and she learns that Inuyasha is innocent, the anger and trauma have changed her. She's got a good ol' dose of PTSD herself. She's colder, harsher, engages in risky/self-destructive behavior, and distances herself from her loved ones. Like, think about it. Was there any logical reason she had to separate from Inuyasha and his group to fight Naraku on her own? To keep them in the dark about why she surrendered the Shikon Jewel to Naraku? No. That's a character flaw on HER part. And all this puts real strain on her relationship with Inuyasha. They still love each other, but their mutual trauma has completely changed their dynamic. Their love is based on their past relationship rather than their present chemistry. They don't make each other happy anymore. Neither of them are at fault for that. That's REAL AS FUCK. That's what trauma DOES to people and relationships.

So, yes, I'm a hardcore Kikyo stan who supports InuKag over InuKik. We exist. InuKik does not work as a relationship in the present because they've both changed due to trauma and that's the GODDAMN POINT. It's not a story about true love, it's a story about moving on from first love. The problem is that Kikyo's character is largely confined to her role as a love rival to Kagome. Inuyasha's side of the InuKik narrative, of letting go of the past and healing, is resolved. Kikyo's is not. And boy, I was ABSOLUTELY FUCKING LIVID that the love triangle was resolved through Kikyo's death rather than Inuyasha just... fucking, PICKING KAGOME OVER KIKYO BEFOREHAND RATHER THAN HER NEEDING TO DIE. She can still die after that! I swear, I'm not just salty because my fave died. At least 70% of my favorite charas are dead. I literally don't care anymore. I'm mad that she was killed off in a way that reduced her to being Inuyasha's Woman rather than getting a chance to heal and grow apart from him, as he did from her. And this in turn cheapens the narrative around why InuKik doesn't work as a present relationship to begin with, because he never actually picks present love over past love! He just keeps committing emotional infidelity until Kikyo gets killed off to wrap things up in a neat little bow with no character growth on his part! This shit is why I hate Inuyasha (the character).

Kagome's kindness towards Kikyo also plays a part in why she softens up by the end, yes, but that kindness is entirely depicted as "I want to save her because she's important to Inuyasha and I love Inuyasha." Kagome's character growth in these moments hinges on her picking love over jealousy, NOT through actually bonding with Kikyo. On top of that, Kikyo saving Kohaku over defeating Naraku struck me as out of character (have to show she's not a bad person after all? which she isn't, but still). It definitely made her death feel even more pointless. How come Kohaku gets to live and not her!!! Seriously, the fact that Kohaku gets to live and Kikyo doesn't REALLY rubs me the wrong way. She barely even knew Kohaku! He was willing to die to defeat Naraku! NOT killing Kohaku to defeat Naraku almost cost MORE lives! It could've been a poignant resolution to her character arc, but there wasn't enough buildup for it to be a convincing decision for her to make.

And oh my god, there's SO much wasted potential here. Kikyo's resentment towards Kagome is super understandable, and it's never really explored. Kagome replaced her. Kagome is filling the role she should have filled. What's even left for her except her hatred of Naraku? She asserts that Inuyasha cannot forget her (her being lowkey possessive of him is *chef kiss* my wife is a bitch and I like her so much), and he doesn't, but she still straight up tries to kill Kagome lmao. Like I said they do reconcile, but it's kinda half-assed. Kikyo's feelings are never explored in-depth. She's never truly given a chance to heal and realize that she does have a place in the world beyond her decaying relationship with Inuyasha and hatred for Naraku. That her scarred, flawed existence is still just as fucking valid as Kohaku or Rin or Jaken being able to live after being brought back from the dead. Like lemme stress again that the girl experienced INTENSE trauma and COMMITTED SUICIDE. The notion that she's the only one who needs to die in order to restore the natural order, that her death is beautiful and tragic but necessary, is..... gross, tbh. :U

Like, she can still die, lmao. IMO it'd be legitimately more interesting if she lived, if she had an opportunity to carve a place for herself outside of Kagome like Kagome did Kikyo, but it IS possible for her to die without it making ME want to die. Just resolve the love triangle shit first, flesh out some of her relationships outside of Inuyasha himself (ESPECIALLY Kagome), show her healing and softening, and then she can die protecting everyone or some shit. That would've been fine. But No. She just gets killed off for the service of Inuyasha's character, so he can hook up with Kagome guilt-free, with NONE of this addressed. Because it's more palatable for a woman to be dead than broken up with, I guess? I Hate It Here, You Guys.

her (near) last words being "I've finally become an ordinary woman" rubbed me the wrong way too... it like, tried to wrap her character arc up in a neat little bow while ALSO entirely confining its resolution to being Inuyasha's Woman and discarding the narrative of trauma driving them apart. I love the narrative of the girl forced to be inhuman who just wants to be normal. This just felt like... a really cheap way to go about doing that, at the disservice of her character being about OLD love, for a forced (and false) sense of closure. Didn't like it. God fucking damn, typing it all out just made me even MORE pissed off.

tl;dr: kikyo had the makings of an amazing trauma survivor narrative but it got shafted. she deserved everything. thank you for coming to my TED talk.

SIGH. okay. there are other characters I wanna touch on too. Uhhh I actually thought Naraku was pretty cool, though he became way less interesting after Mt Hakurei (for the most part--he was cool again during the direct lead-up to Kikyo's death as well as the final battle). His identity crisis was pretty neat, as was the way he specifically targeted other people's emotions and relationships as a way to compensate for his own utter lack of a sense of self. Not to mention the cold, detached way he regards his own emotions ("my pp stands up whenever i look at kikyo, wish it wouldn't do that :/") and how this leads him to succumb to the influence of the Shikon Jewel, in contrast to Inuyasha and Kagome breaking the cycle. His lack of motivation is actually kind of the point, and I think it's neat as hell! Things got boring once The Baby entered the picture, and I got the sense Rumiko wasn't really sure what to do with Naraku for a while. His style of villainy got a lot more distant and "just as keikaku," when it was the way he got up in everyone's business and pushed their buttons for his own shallow amusement that made me like him in the first place. His fragments aside from Kagura and eventually Kanna were way less interesting, and I think it would've been neat to go more into his role as basically being an abusive dad, but it's fine. The Baby was a fucking boring and atrocious villain though, jfc. The /idea/ of Naraku's own heart rebelling against him was cool enough, but it means jack shit when The Baby is just a bland-ass villain who doesn't remotely represent the character traits that make up Naraku's "heart" in the first place, even aside from Kikyo.

Speaking of which, his fixation on Kikyo is a LOT of fun. Their interactions (which he was apparently secretly into), how he rejected his own humanity and destroyed both himself and the object of his desires, etc. Which is another reason he got less fun after Mt. Hakurei tbh. I fucking hate the way Kikyo's death was handled overall but I liked that he had to reclaim his human heart in order to overwhelm and kill her. That was neat. Something something toxic desire destroying both yourself and the person it's directed at. Then at the very end he realized that his entire existence was completely pointless and empty and his complicated feelings towards Kikyo were the only thing that ever made him actually, like, give a shit. Pour one out for this absolute dumbass. He's a relatable villain because I too would go to absolutely insane lengths to get over a girl I never even dated.

Uhh who else. Sango and Miroku. Sango was my favorite character in the main party. She's the most level-headed of the bunch, has a super cute design, and her story with Kohaku was responsible for a lot of the emotional moments in the series that really landed for me. Her friendship with Kagome was actually super cute and heartfelt. That scene early on where she broke down crying in Kagome's lap because she was scared of being alone again HURT. Also, Kirara is fucking precious. Miroku I've got mixed feelings about, since on the one hand he's a legitimately interesting character and some of his scenes with Sango did hit fairly hard, but DEAR GOD I hate the quirky pervert trope with a burning passion. If it were played seriously, I'd stan him to hell and back a la Adachi. But it isn't, so it's not. I've got mixed feelings about MirSan too. Their resolution was really sweet, but I was kinda like "wha" when Kagome said Sango had a thing for Miroku in the first place. Like, sure okay, but I think more time should've been spent showing her falling for him in the first place lol. Also the butt-grabbing joke got old fast. And when he proposed to her and basically refused to stop flirting with other women I facepalmed so hard. Can't have character growth when you have unfunny running gags! To his credit, he did chill out for the most part, but still kept making jokes about flirting/scoring that clearly made Sango unhappy and I'm like. Why. Then the bit with Hirai-Kotsu needing to be fixed. I liked their mutual resolve to protect each other, but I thought Sango's comment about how she couldn't live without him was..... a bit much. Like what about Kohaku??? But anyway I'm just glad Sango got a happy ending even if I'm still super *SQUINTS* at Miroku.

Sesshoumaru was pretty neat, I get why he's popular, though wasn't really My Type. Sure he's cool, but his /personality/ was a bit lacking and I think we should have gotten some more insight into his relationship with his father for how much focus his quest for the Best Sword got. His development was pretty good, but I've kind of got an issue with how Rin was more of a plot device than a character. Like, okay, one of the reasons I decided to start reading Inuyasha was because the announcement of Yashahime sparked a wave of Sessh/Rin discourse and I wanted to form my own take on it. And, yeah okay I don't like Sessh/Rin either and I say this as a certified Nasty, lmao. Less because it's problematic (though I find it kind of offputting myself, even aged-up) and more because it's bland. Rin has no character whatsoever outside of being a vehicle for his development and I'm REALLY not a fan of girls being objects for male charas' development. Still, I'm not gonna boycott Yashahime if Sessh/Rin is canon or anything. I prefer him with Kagura or even Kikyo but they're dead, so. If Rin has to be his cum dumpster to make this happen, then that's how it's gotta be.

Thats about it I think. I'd put it a rung or two above Naruto in terms of overall quality, but BOY am I still mad abt Kikyo. 6/10 probably wouldn't recommend, but it WAS fun.

#musings

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glasyasbutch · 4 years

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8, 14, 25, 27, 37! d10 option, but do 2 per question if you wanna answer w all your characters!

finally i have time on my laptop to type this out ........ thank you morgan for my life ................ (i had to roll this d10 so many times cause it refused to pick anything but 5, and while i have a lot of thoughts about gildy, other characters need love) 8. If they were given 1000 acres of land with no strings attached, what would they do with it? Gildy: obvious answer here is build her own forge from the ground up. like hello. how sexy of her to do this. but like, she misses the bustle of being around people all the time so it’d be open to the public for demos/lessons. are teaching forges a thing? they are in my world and she runs it and its full of tiny little dwarven babies who probably shouldn’t be allowed access to burning hot metal but like she’s a cleric so its fiiiiiiine Ezra: this is a toughie for him but the dice are forcing me to think. My first thought for him would honestly be give it away to some farmers or something, since he’s never really been the kind of guy to have personal possessions or things entirely his own. like. he grew up in a temple and then spent the next large chunk of his life doing 24/7 hospice care for someone, he’s never owned a house, or had things just for him. his whole life has been about community and sharing, he’d feel bad using it for any of his own desires.

however, for the sake of the question, if he has to take it and do something with it himself. big fat library. (where will he get the books from? don’t worry about it.) he only has 8 int but he thoroughly understands the value of knowledge, and you know, little selfish bonus. a huge collection of books like that is his best shot at finding something out about cate

14. What’s a personality trait they wish they had?

Ebbie: Confidence. Not necessarily in the sense that he doubts himself, though he does a fair amount, but mainly what he wants is the ability to make other people believe him when he Does think he can do something. He doesn’t want to be “trying to make something of himself” in everyone’s eyes forever. He’s already made something.

Nissy: Absolutely nothing he’s perfect how he is how DARE you insinuate that he could need ANYTHING added to his finely manufactured personali- (Patience. He has so, so many years to go ahead of him and he doesn’t know how to make things last. He’s worried that if he keeps letting people and interests slip through his fingers like sand he’ll have nothing left to hold before he even reaches his final lifetime.)

25. If there was a day held in their honor, what would people have to do on that day? Craving: ooooooooooooooooooooooohohohohohohoho. Oh boy this is ,.... this is tasty. I’m thinking a sort of mardigras crossed with the purge but less murder in which the vibe is “fucking anything goes, you’re the tits so damn well act like it”. extravagancy, over-dressing for the occassion, blatant gluttony, open container alcohol, if you think it’s pretty its yours kinda attitude. tons of costume jewelry on your body and trinkets in your pocket with the expectation that you’ll swipe some and others will swipe yours, and you’ll come home with a new selection of “finery”. the nice things stay locked at home. restaurants offer free food and stores have huge sales, card games and county fair style side shows in the middle of the street. an excuse to indulge recklessly. Udoora: so like, there’s Kind of already a day in their honor cause the whole town has their yearly festival where they pray to the goddess and go yo whats up lady is your champion stepping down or are we re-blessing the one we already have!! but that’s not specific to doora. one Just for her... country town festival. think bilbo’s 111th birthday minus the magic fireworks. whole city comes out to party, tons of food, music and dancing, the streets lined with wildflower garlands. stories and laughing around a bonfire as the sun leaves the sky, reverence for the people around you and the place you call home.

27. What makes a person beautiful to them?

Stella: Gentleness. Now you may read this and go how the FUCK did she end up with craving, and the answer to that is: this question said “beautiful” not “extremely sexy”. she got together with craving because she was horny and THEN she fell in love with craving’s soft side. (Her favorite physical aspect of craving is her hair. she loves to run her fingers through it, because it’s always inexplicably soft, in comparison to the horns and the barbs)

Stella grew up in the woods though, learning to tread light so as not to scare an animal or disrupt a nest. Her favorite place to be as a kid was calf-deep in the slowest part of the river. She knows the soft kiss of the sun on shoulders and the cushion of moss under toes. She was raised in the gentleness of nature, and she longs to see that gentleness reflected in humanity.

Hedja: Now this is an interesting one bc I’d explicitly decided against romance if I ever play them (not that if they don’t pursue romance they’re incapable of seeing beauty but it’s not something i’d thought much at all about). I’d say humor, levity, optimism. The ability to find any speck of brightness you can and kindle it. They don’t care much for physical looks or appearances, but that belief in happiness around every corner is what makes them continue to serve their god, because they find it to be the most beautiful part of life.

37. What do they think is a conspiracy? Tov: so. a conspiracy that he believes is true is that rowan and sloan are fucking to make him and moos jealous. we know this. but a truth that he believes is conspiracy ... you know i’m gonna say that there’s several warlock patrons who are definitely real in d&d canon but he refuses to believe that they exist because he had such shit luck trying to contact them with rax. (don’t ask me which ones i don’t know enough d&d lore for this) Roona: my god. she’s the perfect one for this holy shit ... she’s about 30% convinced that every thing that’s been said to her for her entire life is fake and she’s part of a really fucked up social experiment, so there’s that. she’s also a strong believer in the “we’re all in a simulation” theory, as well as “i’m the only one who’s alive and everyone else is a simulation” theory. she waffles on and off as to whether all the gods are actually just one guy. there’s one town she passed through where she’s sure the king has been dead for years and is being puppeted around by a necromancer group running a shadow government. there’s no fucking way math is real, everyone’s bullshitting numbers bigger than 100. not really a conspiracy but since getting the ass spoon she doesn’t believe in the societal value of forks cause she’s been doing just fucking fine with her spoon and her hands only thank you VERY much.

#thank you again doing this fucked supremely #craving #tov #stella #gildy #ezra #ebbie #nissy #hedja #roona #udoora

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imaginepirates · 5 years

Text

The Estuary

The Dutchman

Part 1

When James was dragged aboard the Empress, wet to his bones with water dripping from his clothes, it took him a moment to realize he was crying. Fat tears rolled over his cheeks, spilling from his chin with the rest of the water soaking him through. It was relief, he knew, that made him cry so. Or perhaps it was fear. He didn’t know what to expect next, after all.

A towel was draped over his shoulders. He’d forsaken the wig and coat while in the water, preferring not to be dragged into the depths by their weight. He knew he looked a mess; his shirttails poked out from their place, mostly untucked, and his hair stuck to his face in long strands.

He wanted to find Elizabeth, to know she was okay. The unfriendly men about him set his nerves on edge. He didn’t get the feeling that they liked him much, even after helping them escape.

He found her in the captain’s cabin, pouring over charts. Her hands were shaking, and he wasn’t convinced it was from the cold. Noiselessly, he slipped into the cabin, standing against a red wall.

“Elizabeth,” he croaked. It wasn’t meant to sound so pathetic, but god, that was how he felt.

“James!” She jumped up, the towel around her neck slipping from its position. Her arms wrapped around James’ neck, her face pressed into his shoulder.

There was a feeling so deep in James’ chest, so raw and painful, he struggled to breathe. He knew, no matter how long he lasted here, in this reality, that he’d never have her arms wrapping around him. He’d never come home to her voice. He’d never have her. It hurt. Was it worth knowing what he was missing?

He held her against his chest, stroking her hair with a hand. More than her hands were shaking, now. He held her tighter and thought of what she must be going through. She was just as scared as he was, with no knowledge of what awaited her. She didn’t belong on the sea with pirates. Or, maybe she did, but it was all new to her, and she had to learn her place. Regardless, James buried his face in her hair, knowing it could be his last chance.

“I thought- I thought you hadn’t followed me,” she whispered into his shirt. “I thought I’d lost you.”

The words broke him. She felt alone. Of course; she was bereft of Will and Jack, left in an environment with people who didn’t speak her language, and she was expected to lead them. She was desperate for anything familiar. James should’ve followed her the first time. He should’ve been there for her, taken care of her. I am now.

“Never.” The words passed his lips before he’d even thought of them. “I would never leave you, Elizabeth.”

She looked into his eyes with a fierce determination that surprised him. It shouldn’t have. “Stay with me. Don’t go back.” It was not a request.

“Always.”

One hand curled into his shirt, the warmth of her fingers spreading to the skin beneath the wet fabric. “And James?” She searched his eyes. “I forgive you.”

“Thank you.” He was sure he was crying again. He didn’t care. Let her see his weakness. Let her see that she was his weakness. His hands moved to the sides of her face, cupping it. He kissed her forehead again, letting the touch linger longer than necessary.

He stayed by her side afterwards, trying to remind her that she wasn’t alone. There was a strength to her he hadn’t noticed before. It was in her posture and the depths of her eyes. The decisiveness with which she acted in the face of people who disdained her. The chill in her voice. She was not out of place, and it scared him.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

They arrived at Shipwreck Cove far too soon for James’ tastes. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place; it set him on edge. Beckett knew about it all, and the last thing James wanted was to see Elizabeth hurt.

The cove was formed almost exclusively out of old ships. They were stacked, one on the other, in a dizzying monstrosity. It was imposing to look upon. James was shocked; it looked like a stronghold out of a fairytale. He only hoped it could last just as long.

Warm light cascaded out of windows. Every room looked to be occupied. The Empress docked next to a massive French vessel, and someone jogged down to meet them. There was an exchange of words between the man and Elizabeth. She promptly set off in one direction, leaving everyone to follow in her wake.

Loud voices echoed out of a room. The crew of the Empress had climbed uncountable stairs, ducked through short halls, and padded down creaking floors. Something came flying out of the room, and James’ stomach rebelled to see it was a bone. A human one.

“May I point out that we are short one pirate lord and I am content as a cucumber to wait until Sao Feng joins us.” The voice slithered out of the room and into James’ ears, souring his mood. Of course Jack would be among the gathered. And even after so much time, there was hatred pent up in James’ stomach that he wanted to release on the pirate.

Elizabeth strode into the room. Ever the attention grabber, James thought. She always did have mine. “Sao Feng is dead.” She said it with such swagger that James, who stood just beside her, watched her through the corner of his eye. “He fell to the Flying Dutchman,” she continued.

A gathering of pirates should not be the place in which a lady looks comfortable. Yet James had a sinking suspicion that she was more comfortable than he was.

The meeting consisted mostly of shouting. It drove James mad. The proceedings of the navy had always been tedious, but the pirates weren’t getting anywhere at all. A large book was brought out by two elderly men who looked like they might topple over at any moment. It was consulted, and the shouting continued.

James noticed the tension in Elizabeth’s shoulders. He rested a hand on one, and she turned towards him. She turned away again, but she didn’t shrug it off. It shouldn’t have pleased him as much as it did.

A conclusion was reached. It gave James some hope that they’d be leaving shortly.

“I call for a vote!” Hollered Jack.

His words didn’t sound promising. They weren’t, either. Each pirate voted for his or her self, leaving a gaping pit in James’ stomach. Beckett was closing in on them, and with no leader, there was bound to be chaos. Beckett would overpower the pirates in their confusion.

“Elizabeth Swann.” For a moment after, nobody spoke. Then, the crowd erupted into manic yelling. Jack’s words had inspired some controversy, but James was glad for them.

Elizabeth spoke. “Gather every vessel that floats. At dawn, we fight.”

James’ stomach dropped. Of course she would fight. It was in her blood, a boiling vat of desire simmering with confidence. And what she desired was victory.

“Elizabeth.” He used the hand on her shoulder to turn her to him. “Beckett’s armada…”

He was never given the chance to finish. “Bugger Beckett’s armada,” Elizabeth hissed. She turned on her heel, leaving him alone in a room full of strangers.

King. The word echoed in his head. She belongs here, in this room of wild people. She basks in the lawlessness like sunlight. She always belongs; she takes command of every room she enters. I have never belonged, and I still don’t. All I ever wanted was to feel like I belonged. I wanted her to give that to me. But she is swept up in her own adventures, and I am not in them.

There is a fire in her, but fire is put out by the rain, and the storms of war approach.

~~~~~

Rain slicked the deck of the ship. The vessel pitched and rolled underfoot, tossed about by the storm. Canon fire echoed in James’ ears, leaving a ringing in them of which he wasn’t fond.

He ended up on the Dutchman, right next to Elizabeth. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight. He hadn’t. He’d watched her marriage ceremony in pain, and turned away for the kiss. He had protected her through it all, though, and would continue to do so.

She was flung into the stairs. William was pinned to the ground. When James looked over at her, there was a pain in her face that made him sick. Of course she couldn’t lose Will.

It was becoming harder to grip his sword. The rain trickled down his hand, making the pommel of his sword slippery. With a hard enough thrust, the sword would slip from his grasp as if of his own accord. And yet, watching the scene unfold before him…

He met Elizabeth’s eyes. His chest was tight, and a spot in his abdomen ached. A phantom pain. Shortly, it was going to become quite real. And in her eyes, he saw she understood that.

I do hope, Elizabeth, that you can live out your years in peace. In happiness. His eyes flicked over to William. Of course.

He could only hope he would be a distraction to Jones long enough that somebody would grab the heart.

He thrust his sword into Jones, and heard someone scream his name. Elizabeth. He tried to pull it back out, but his grip failed him. His hand came off the pommel, sword sliding off the edges of his fingers.

He stood there, defenseless. A low chuckle came from Jones.

It was quick and it was merciless, so much like the last time. The sword was of a fine build. The cut was cleaner.

James could have laughed. Of course that’s what I think of. That the stab wound in my gut is less painful than I remember them to be.

He stumbled back, vision flicking to where Jack held the heart. Stab it. The pirate stared at James in concern. Please.

His entire world tilted sideways as he fell, knees making contact with the deck. Breathing was getting harder, and his breaths were becoming short and shallow. Hands were cupping his face, and he closed his eyes under the touch. A thumb massaged his cheek.

He opened his eyes to meet Elizabeth’s watery ones, tears combining with rain on her cheeks.

“Don’t,” James whispered. He raised a hand to wipe her tears away. It burned. When he glanced down, there was so much blood that he couldn’t tell where he’d been stabbed.

His movements only made her cry harder. She said his name, and her voice broke.

It’s okay, he wanted to tell her. What do I have to live for after this? I certainly can’t return to the navy. Where would I go? Perhaps my death is unavoidable.

Death was made a little easier in Elizabeth’s arms. Her lips touched his, gently but surely, and a hand stroked his hair.

It would be easier this time. He knew what was coming.

•

@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom

#pirates of the caribbean #potc #pirates #james norrington #commodore norrington #norrington #elizabeth swann #elizabeth #drabble #writing #fanfic #mini series #miniseries #the estuary

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