#identity issues

[writingwithcolor]

Sri Lankan Fairies and Senegalese Goddesses: Mixing Mythology as a Mixed Creator

[Note: this archive ask was submitted before the Masterpost rules took effect in 2023. The ask has been abridged for clarity.]

@reydjarinkenobi asked:

Hi, I’m half Sri Lankan/half white Australian, second gen immigrant though my mum moved when she was a kid. My main character for my story is a mixed demigod/fae. [...] Her bio mum is essentially a Scottish/Sri Lankan fairy and her other bio mum (goddess) is a goddess of my own creation, Nettamaar, who’s name is derived from [...] Wolof words [...]. The community of mages that she presided over is from the South Eastern region of Senegal [...] In the beginning years of European imperialism, the goddess basically protected them through magic and by blessing a set of triplets effectively cutting them off from the outside world for a few centuries [...] I was unable to find a goddess that fit the story I wanted to tell [...] and also couldn’t find much information on the internet for local gods, which is why I have created my own. I know that the gods in Hinduism do sort of fit into [the story] but my Sri Lankan side is Christian and I don’t feel comfortable representing the Hindu gods in the way that I will be this goddess [...]. I wanted to know if any aspect of the community’s history is problematic as well as if I should continue looking further to try and find an African deity that matched my narrative needs? I was also worried that having a mixed main character who’s specifically half black would present problems as I can’t truly understand the black experience. I plan on getting mixed and black sensitivity readers once I finish my drafts [...] I do take jabs at white supremacy and imperialism and I I am planning to reflect my feelings of growing up not immersed in your own culture and feeling overwhelmed with what you don’t know when you get older [...]. I’m sorry for the long ask but I don’t really have anyone to talk to about writing and I’m quite worried about my story coming across as insensitive or problematic because of cultural history that I am not educated enough in.

Reconciliation Requires Research

First off: how close is this world’s history to our own, omitting the magic? If you’re aiming for it to be essentially parallel, I would keep in mind that Senegal was affected by the spread of Islam before the Europeans arrived, and most people there are Muslim, albeit with Wolof and other influences. 

About your Scottish/Sri Lankan fairy character: I’ll point you to this previous post on Magical humanoid worldbuilding, Desi fairies as well as this previous post on Characterization for South Asian-coded characters for some of our commentary on South Asian ‘fae’. Since she is also Scottish, the concept can tie back to the Celtic ideas of the fae.

However, reconciliation of both sides of her background can be tricky. Do you plan on including specific Sri Lankan mythos into her heritage? I would tread carefully with it, if you plan to do so. Not every polytheistic culture will have similar analogues that you can pull from.

To put it plainly, if you’re worried about not knowing enough of the cultural histories, seek out people who have those backgrounds and talk to them about it. Do your research thoroughly: find resources that come from those cultures and read carefully about the mythos that you plan to incorporate. Look for specificity when you reach out to sensitivity readers and try to find sources that go beyond a surface-level analysis of the cultures you’re looking to portray. 

~ Abhaya

I see you are drawing on Gaelic lore for your storytelling. Abhaya has given you good links to discussions we’ve had at WWC and the potential blindspots in assuming, relative to monotheistic religions like Christianity, that all polytheistic and pluralistic lore is similar to Gaelic folklore. Fae are one kind of folklore. There are many others. Consider:

Is it compatible? Are Fae compatible with the Senegalese folklore you are utilizing? 

Is it specific? What ethnic/religious groups in Senegal are you drawing from? 

Is it suitable? Are there more appropriate cultures for the type of lore you wish to create?

Remember, Senegalese is a national designation, not an ethnic one, and certainly not a designation that will inform you with respect to religious traditions. But more importantly:

...Research Requires Reconciliation

My question is why choose Senegal when your own heritage offers so much room for exploration? This isn’t to say I believe a half Sri-Lankan person shouldn’t utilize Senegalese folklore in their coding or vice-versa, but, to put it bluntly, you don’t seem very comfortable with your heritage. Religions can change, but not everything cultural changes when this happens. I think your relationship with your mother’s side’s culture offers valuable insight to how to tackle the above, and I’ll explain why.  

I myself am biracial and bicultural, and I had to know a lot about my own background before I was confident using other cultures in my writing. I had to understand my own identity—what elements from my background I wished to prioritize and what I wished to jettison. Only then was I able to think about how my work would resonate with a person from the relevant background, what to be mindful of, and where my blindspots would interfere. 

I echo Abhaya’s recommendation for much, much more research, but also include my own personal recommendation for greater self-exploration. I strongly believe the better one knows oneself, the better they can create. It is presumptuous for me to assume, but your ask’s phrasing, the outlined plot and its themes all convey a lack of confidence in your mixed identity that may interfere with confidence when researching and world-building. I’m not saying give up on this story, but if anxiety on respectful representation is a large barrier for you at the moment, this story may be a good candidate for a personal project to keep to yourself until you feel more ready.

(See similar asker concerns here: Running Commentary: What is “ok to do” in Mixed-Culture Supernatural Fiction, here: Representing Biracial Black South American Experiences and here: Am I fetishizing my Japanese character?)

- Marika.

Start More Freely with Easy Mode

Question: Why not make a complete high-fantasy universe, with no need of establishing clear real-world parallels in the text? It gives you plenty of leg room to incorporate pluralistic, multicultural mythos + folklore into the same story without excessive sweating about historically accurate worldbuilding.

It's not a *foolproof* method; even subtly coded multicultural fantasy societies like Avatar or the Grishaverse exhibit certain harmful tropes. I also don't know if you are aiming for low vs high fantasy, or the degree of your reliance on real world culture / religion / identity cues.

But don't you think it's far easier for this fantasy project to not have the additional burden of historical accuracy in the worldbuilding? Not only because I agree with Mod Marika that perhaps you seem hesitant about the identity aspect, but because your WIP idea can include themes of othering and cultural belonging (and yes, even jabs at supremacist institutions) in an original fantasy universe too. I don't think I would mind if I saw a couple of cultural markers of a Mughal Era India-inspired society without getting a full rundown of their agricultural practices, social conventions and tax systems, lol.

Mod Abhaya has provided a few good resources about what *not* to do when drawing heavily from cultural coding. With that at hand, I don't think your project should be a problem if you simply make it an alternate universe like Etheria (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power), Inys (The Priory of the Orange Tree) or Earthsea (the Earthsea series, Ursula K. Le Guin). Mind you, we can trace the analogues to each universe, but there is a lot of freedom to maneuver as you wish when incorporating identities in original fantasy. And of course, multiple sensitivity readers are a must! Wishing you the best for the project.

- Mod Mimi

#asks #multiracial #multicultural #south asian #sri lankan #senegalese #west african #identity #representation #worldbuilding #fantasy #mythology #folklore #fairies #deities #adoption #identity issues #mixed experiences #coding

[couch-sociologist]

bpd is like body horror but for your identity

#actually bpd #bpd thoughts #bpd #identity issues

[princessanarchy-99]

I like to be taken shoppinq is that so bad? is it? the me before she started to steal from me... my life, my energy and personality... turning me through my friends and family into a psycho manic freak, with no money, and health conditions. Shes a murderer, she believes she can write me out my life and become me. Tell me whos got identity issues?

#kept woman #spoiled #bratty #d0m/sub #soft d0m #identity theft #identity issues #dresses #flowers #solar eclipse #solarpunk #spotify #writers and poets #writerscommunity #cyber security #order of protection #protection #safety #masked #princess #ddlgprincess #ddlgkitten #ddlgsub

[steddieunderdogfics]

Consensual Catfishing by foresthearts!!! <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52312297/chapters/132334945

Consensual Catfishing by foresthearts

Rating: Mature

32,108 words, 4/4 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Past harringrove and stancy but nothing current, Identity Issues, Catfishing (but not), Texting, Epistolary, Famous Steve Harrington, (basically like harry styles), Professional DM Eddie Munson, (basically like brennan lee mulligan), Roommates, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Pining, Steddie Big Bang 2023 (Stranger Things), Modern Era, Alternate Universe

Summary:

When Eddie gets a message on instagram from an account claiming to be the famous pop-star Steve Harrington, he knows immediately it's a catfish. He's not dumb. The account has no pictures and people like Steve Harrington don't just randomly DM guys like Eddie. Still. What would be the harm in letting it play out? It's not dangerous if he knows he's being catfished. No, if he knows about it, then it's basically like a fun little roleplay. No harm, no foul. (Eddie is not, in fact, being catfished)

Thanks for the rec!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#steddie fic recs #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #modern au #rated m #friends to lovers #famous steve harrington #identity issues

[gayclowns]

does anyone else have the hardest time figuring out their sexuality/romantic orientation (or is it my bpd?)

#personal #identity issues #sexuality #queer #asexual #lgbtqia+ #bpd #aromantic #arospec #aroace #aspec

[letter-22]

my three biggest kins are nimona from nimona, vee from the owl house, and lake from infinity train. two shapeshifters and a reflection. can you tell i have problems

#nimona #vee noceda #owl house #infinity train #lake infinity train #identity issues #mental illness go brrr

[flashy-mf]

I wish things were way different sometimes, but I’m scared I won’t exist anymore if that happens. I don’t want anything to change, or I’ll lose everything I am. The thought of turning into someone else terrifies me every time it happens. I don’t want to keep losing myself again and again. Please, I don’t want to die and revive anymore!! I don’t want to be replaced by another imposter.

#flashy ✨ vent #cluster b #actually cluster b #npd #actually npd #actually narcissistic #narcissistic personality disorder #identity disturbance #identity issues #fear of change #loss #grief #tw unsettling #tw pleading language

[unironicallycringe]

It's a tragedy and a joy to be many things at once. A joy to experience more of what humanity has to offer, but a tragedy in the sense that no one place feels like a concrete home. It always feels like you're lying when you try to solidify, because whatever state you become, it's never quite 100% you, is it? You are both the wavelength and the particle, so being defined as one denies the other its existence. At birth, you exchange a sense of belonging with a curse of fluidity.

I've always had trouble with my identity. Obviously. You've probably seen my writing. I've always been many things, which coalesces into feeling like I'm not much of anything. Sometimes I can forget about all that, and life is much easier. Other times I remember though, and it can be incredibly isolating. It then feeds into this fearful loop where I feel I must isolate myself further, before something scatters what little scraps I have. But then, how can anyone connect with a thing that is barely solid? How can I feel safe to connect? How can they? What if one of the things I am is something which is hated? How can I let myself be seen if being seen feels like it could be a death sentence?

I guess the vaguely correct answer to all of that is just "make art." That's always been my salve. Sometimes I forget how though, and I float for a very long time.

#i guess ursang really is my linksona #sorry i uh. got triggered badly like 10 hours ago and ive been fucked all day. #i needed to express myself but even this is partially masked. this is as close as i can get. it's an asymptote. #“hey shea what the fuck does this mean?” buddy if i knew i would tell you #identity issues #mixed race #yeah that gets rolled up in here too #shea muses aloud

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

It wasn't like he was entirely fake. He was basically an omega, the only thing he couldn't do was to release and smell the pheromones, but who cared about that, right? He was way prettier than any omega he had ever met, he was good at staying home and being a gorgeous little eye candy, and he could even get pregnant if needed. Sure, he didn't want to get pregnant, but he could, even without being in heat, and that was the important part.

So, him, being sold to Lan Xichen as the perfect omega wife, was not-

It was fake as hell.

And now he was going to have to break the trust of the only other person he adored other than Nie Mingjue, something he never wanted to.

But how the hell he could have foreseen that it would be Lan Xichen who would buy him?! The softest, gentlest, sweetest and kindest alpha ever, who deserved the best omega wife ever, instead of the lying fake younger brother of his best friend.

"It's okay A-Sang. Xichen-ge is going to take a good care of you," Lan Xichen promised, caressing his hair as the car drove them through the city. Nie Huaisang was curled up in his lap, seeking out the warmth he had no right to feel and the lovely smell even his inferior nose could differentiate, and he sighed contently.

"Of course you will," he murmured half as an elated agreement and half as a sarcastic retort. Because Lan Xichen would do anything for his pretty omega wife he just brought for an obscene amount of money, especially when that omega wife was the supposedly kidnapped brother of his best friend.

Nie Huaisang was born as a beta. He was not the typical Nie, strong and obviously alpha even before the presentation. But, he could have been an omega. He was always sickly, loved arts and lazing around like a pretty housewife, and before the age of the presentation, he knew that was going to be his life goal: to be a pampered, prized omega of somebody who loved and adored him, somebody who would take care of him at least as good as his Da-ge did.

But he never presented.

And his dreams of becoming the trophy omega wife of a rich, adoring alpha husband was gone-

Until Nie Mingjue. Well, until Meng Yao, but that's basically the same thing. His Da-ge's lover and assistant - and, honestly, brain and better yet overall much worse half - decided they needed money for their feud with the Wens.

The Plan was to "kidnap" and "sell" Nie Huaisang to the highest bidder, and save him just after the transaction and before he could leave with his "new owner". It would have been easy. Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang were a terrifying and efficient team, it would have been an effortless task for them.

What they didn't count on was Lan Xichen and his annoyingly honorable self.

Nobody counted on that the man would want to help Nie Mingjue's "search" for his didi when he had other things to worry about. (Like his own didi and his omega not-wife.) Nor that he would actually find Nie Huaisang. And especially not that he would literally make Nie Huaisang the world's most expensive omega with his relentless pursuit to be the one who could buy Nie Huaisang and take him home.

That man was unreal.

And now that unreal, ridiculous, amazing, honorable and kind man was his alpha.

"Xichen-ge," he started, "why did you-?"

"Because..." Lan Xichen hesitated, his hand stopping its soothing motions. The fake omega whined, bumping his head into the gentle hand until the fingers returned to their soft scratches.

"So unreasonable," Nie Huaisang teased with a tiny giggle, but it really was unreasonable. He could have left him there. He could have called Da-ge. He could have done anything except for buying a useless, fake omega. (Well, he didn't know that part, but he didn't need to buy an omega! He was The Lan Alpha!)

"Being reasonable didn't get me were I wanted so far." He smiled, but it was something different from his usual ones. It was- darker, somehow. His smiles were always so neutrally pleasant, so pretty and empty, but that one... That one made Nie Huaisang's world shift and his heart beat faster.

"And being unreasonable did?"

The fingers tightened, lightly pulling on Nie Huaisang's hair, just enough it could be felt. "I have you now, don't I?"

Nie Huaisang's breath hitched and he swallowed back his moan. Lan Xichen as a dangerous individual was just too attractive for a pretty little beta like him to handle.

(This fic was brought to you by this post. I just had to.)

#nie huaisang #lan xichen #xisang #xisangweek2023 #mentioned nieyao #ftm nhs #mdzs #identity issues

[aziraphales-library]

Idk if it has been before, but can I rec ‘Heart & Shoal’ by Zehwulf (art by sightkeeper)? It’s a lovely fic which places folklore into a modern setting and creates the most amazing comforting story with it. To me, reading it feels like going on a relaxing cosy summer holiday to Tadfield, myself.

You can indeed, thank you for the rec!...

Heart & Shoal by ZehWulf (T)

More than the loss of the skin—which was enough of a problem to be getting on with, thank you—the problem was, Aziraphale had done the wrong thing. If he could say to Gabriel that he'd simply seen a creature in distress and decided to help, he might not be forgiven, but he probably wouldn't be cast out. But, knowingly saving a human from drowning was beyond the pale. He was meant to be spying on them, not helping them. OR Aziraphale is a selkie whose lost skin is somewhere in the village of Tadfield; Crowley is a fay who considers Tadfield his personal garden to cultivate and protect. They're drawn to each other, but neither is willing to divulge their secret. Naturally, a lot of inconvenient feelings and small-town hijinks ensue anyway.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #fantasy au #selkie aziraphale #fae crowley #identity issues #mod d

[fuckingwhateverdude]

4.19.23

#thinking ab things #will not elaborate further #my writing #my writing tag #poetry #original poem #identity issues #past trauma #mental illness #vent writing #spilled ink

[evilhorse]

You’re not the only one dealing with identity issues.

(Alan Scott: The Green Lantern #3)

#alan scott: the green lantern #green lantern #alan scott #the spectre #jim corrigan #identity issues #buddies? #tim sheridan #cian tormey #dc comics #comics #2020s comics

[dumbfaetrash]

I have been brought down into Borderlands Hyperfixation Hell and I need my boys to suffer in fanfiction. And by my boys, I mostly mean Timothy Lawrence.

Need me some toxic ass shit in which Timothy is just fully corrupted by Jack. To the point where he can’t separate his own personality and thoughts from Jack’s, and has started to find genuine enjoyment in the crazed, sadistic things Jack does. He can’t remember ever being any other way. He knows his name used to be Timothy, but that doesn’t even matter to him because he’s just Jack now (or Other-Jack when talking to Jack)

In other words, let me process my identity issues and trauma through this man acsgdbdb

#borderlands #timothy lawrence #handsome jack #identity issues #trauma #look i need my blorbo to suffer for my entertainment #does he derserve it? #absolutely not #but i desperately need to read his corruption arc

[ghostisventing]

I find myself disgusted/uncomfortable/scared of men and idk if it’s the trauma or am I just not attracted to men?

#am I nonbinary #wtf is wrong with me why does everything feel fake even liking girls but that’s not fake wtf #identity crisis #identity issues #bpd #social anxiety #lesbian #bisexual #bisexual women #sapphic #pls help #non binary lesbian #non binary bisexual #vent #am i a lesbian #questioning

[hungrylikethepuma]

soooo I have these side ocs that are super involved in my life ,,,,, grrr I think about them always and kinda “talk” with them. Mostly when I’m working through an emotion or like ,,, when I’m just doing random shit. basically , I use them to work through problems…. Like there my actual sides .. anybody else do this? basically inside out/sanders sides little fuckers in ur head ? but in like a maladaptive daydreaming way and not like a system way. oleasee I need to know. I name them , they use different xenoproniuns and stuff. I love them to death, they’re apart of me and who I am. they’re also therians to ,, they’re everything I want to be and want I am. they’re me , basically , just separated into different parts. My emotions, my memories. just like,, they’re just ocs? I feel so connected to them. If i could leave this world and be with them I would, but they’re not even real. anybody else? (not proof reading this,,, again this isn’t a system thing! I don’t want people to get confused, )

#identity issues #sanders sides oc #oc stuff #maladapting daydreaming disorder #emotions #sanders sides

[lizhly-writes]

Allison x Emily, 5!

5. one night stand and falling pregnant au hi it's been forever. honestly i was kinda surprised to see an ask for these guys lol it also feels like forever since they've shown up. anyway, idk how shippy this is (maybeee a lil fucked up?), buuut happy women's day.

When we were younger, Mother always called Emily my little doll – porcelain and perfect, always following after me.

Emily grew snappier about it as she grew older.  True, she would still go along with whatever I wanted, for the most part, but was she ever happy about it?  For a long time now, I couldn’t do anything but make her angry.  

But ah, it’s important to note: that wasn’t my problem last night, and the proof of it is naked in my bed right now, even if she is starting to pull my covers up over her chin.

“Shut up,” Emily says, hazily cracking an eye open, letting the faintest silver of gray peek through.  Such a pale color, almost white, not unlike cracked glass.  She used to have blue eyes.  I do miss them, sometimes, but either way, she’s lovely, even if she’ll never happily hear such a thing from me.  Emily, aren’t you aware that it’s important to know how to gracefully accept a compliment?

“I haven’t said anything, though?” I give her a charming smile that she will also never gracefully accept.  

Charming has always made Emily look like she wants to hit me over the head. Today is no different.  She absolutely looks like she’s contemplating violence, but instead actually attempting to strangle me with my own sheets, she says, “If you say anything, I’ll kill you.”

Unlikely.  I am, by all accounts – not just my own! – exceedingly difficult to kill.

“Whatever you want,” I say generously, taking the liberty to reach around, wrap an arm around her shoulders, pull her in.  It makes her grumble a bit, but she doesn’t try moving away.  I suppose it might be because I run hotter than she does.  Her skin feels so cool against mine.  I wouldn’t mind warming her up, if she was in the mood for a little morning exercise with me.

“You’re far too happy about this,” she says, cracking an eye open.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy about this?”  I lower my voice and my head to her face.  “A beautiful woman in my bed, isn’t that something worth celebrating?”

She snorts.  “I didn’t realize you had the leisure to be interested in this sort of thing.”

…Odd. To her, did I seem particularly busy as of late?

“I always have the leisure to be interested in this sort of thing.  Don’t you always say I have too much free time?”

Emily never did like how much I did with pretty boys and pretty girls.  

For whatever reason, this is what rouses her from half-aware drowsiness.  Wide awake now, enough that her frown is truly directed at me instead the general ungodliness of the early morning. “What are you talking about, I’ve never told you that before.”

This is a blatant falsehood.  We both know this.

“By any chance, is your memory going?  Ask Asher, he’ll tell you you’ve been saying it since we were all children.”

“Since we were.. all…children,” she repeats, slow and suspicious for absolutely no reason at all. Her eyes narrow.  “I’ve said this to Wilhelmina.  I’ve never said this to Allison.”

I don’t believe I enjoy the implications of that sentence.

“Allison? Who’s that, another pretty lady who’s caught your attention?”  The thought of it is irritating.  It’s bad enough, dealing with that Joachim.  Now Allison as well?  “You’ll really make me jealous talking like that.  Who wants to hear some other woman’s name in bed, mm?”

Names, names, names.  Do I know an Allison?  There’s Hannah, but is there some other little nothing that takes up Emily’s attention?

“Ridiculous,” Emily hisses. She pushes me off her and sits up, sheets falling down to her waist.  I don’t have much of a chance to appreciate the view before she hits me.

It’s a decent shot, knives scoring deeply through my face, scraping against bone. It’s also entirely unprovoked.  I don’t mind a fight – I love a fight – but Emily isn’t Asher.  I can’t imagine she’d actually enjoy this sort of thing in the bedroom.  Did I already make her angry today?

… Hmm.  I’m bleeding quite hard, actually.

Well, that doesn’t matter.  What matters more is how I’ve managed to invoke Emily’s displeasure.  Even when I’m deliberately annoying her, the most she’s ever done is insult me. She’s never actually hit me like this.  Is she just in the mood for a fight?  If she wants a fight, I’ll give her one.  Just as soon as I get all of this out of my eye.

There’s.  There’s so much blood in my eye.

No, that shouldn’t matter.  I don’t normally care about that sort of thing. Why do I care right now.  Something like this doesn’t mean anything to me.   I shouldn’t care.  This is fine.  Why do I feel like there’s something wrong.  Something’s wrong.  What’s wrong? 

…Hey.  Hey.

I’ve been fucking knifed in the face.

Of course there’s something wrong!  In any normal world, I’d be calling 911!  Fuck it, someone else would have to call 911, I’d be passed out on the ground!  Why am I acting like this is normal?  This isn’t normal! This – this – !

THIS REALLY FUCKING HURTS ACTUALLY.

“Jesus fuck,” I wheeze, immediately clamping my hand over the bleeding ruin in my face that used to be a working eyeball.  Fucking finally Wilhelmina’s healing starts kicking in beneath my fingers.  Why is that only happening now?  When I’m actually me, injuries start healing immediately, it shouldn’t be different for her.  Unless she decided to keep it from healing?  Why would she keep it from healing?

“Do you remember who you are now?” Emily says, spinning a knife or two in a fun little trick that I’m sure I’d appreciate more if I, you know, had two eyes.

“This is the shittiest morning-after,” I manage.  Isn’t the worst it gets supposed to be a… a… what’s it called.  One night stand.  A pump-and-dump.  What’s the fucking word I’m looking for.

“Your name.”

Right.  That. How could I forget.

It takes me a couple tries, but I get there eventually.  “Allison Lee,” I say to Emily’s incredibly unimpressed expression.  

“Very good, well done,” she says.

“Yeah, thanks, I appreciate it, are you happy.”

“I’m never happy,” Emily says flatly.  Then she turns away to rummage around for her clothing, because obviously stabbing someone in the face isn’t something to be concerned about at all.  I bet she does this kind of thing everyday, doesn’t she?

“Did you have to use knives,” I grit out. Where did you even get those.  You’re naked, there’s zero places for you to hide them.  How did you do that.  That’s not possible.  What the fuck.

“You’re getting increasingly immune to blunt force trauma, so as it happens, yes,” Emilly says, like that’s a reasonable thing to say.

I fucking hate this place.

Emily puts on clothes.  I sit on the bed with my hands over my eyes.  At some point, she says, “Are you going to lie down there all day.”

“Who’s lying down,” I say.

Me.  I’m lying down.  I don’t remember doing that.  It doesn’t really matter.

Emily sighs.  “Sit up.”

“Why.”

“You can go back to sleep if you want, I don’t care,” Emily says briskly.  “But you’re just smearing blood all over your face right now. It’s hardly hygienic.”

“So?”

I can feel her carefully, gently place her hands on my shoulders.  The faint warmth of her breath brushes against my skin.  Unnecessarily close.  Uncomfortably intimate. 

Then she yanks forward and forces me into a sitting position.  I’m almost glad to be in Wilhelmina’s body right now, because if I had actually been me, that would’ve done some terrible things to my shoulder joints.

“Put your hands down,” she says, and wrenches my hands away from my face by the wrists.

I squint at her with one eye.  She’s perfectly put together, fully dressed and hair neatly combed back.  You wouldn’t think at all that she’d been in bed with me five minutes ago, or… however long ago that was.

“You’re terrible,” I say.

“And you’re filthy,” Emily says.  “Don’t move.”  She grabs a wet towel from a bowl on the nightstand – I don’t think that was there before? – and starts wiping down my hands with the brusque, irritated efficiency of a woman who has to clean up her mud-covered child for the third time in three hours.

“I’m not a child.”

Emily holds the towel up to the light, frowning at the red smeared across it. She sets it aside, exchanges it for a fresh towel.  “If that was the case, you’d be cleaning up all by yourself.  But you aren’t doing that, are you?”

No. I’m not.

I don’t want to.  I don’t want to do much of anything right now.

“Not the eye,” I say, which is the one overwhelming desire I feel right now.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Emily says, like it’s ridiculous that I don’t want her, the person who stabbed me in the eye, to come anywhere close to my eye. “Your eye is likely already healed, there’s no need to make a fuss about it.  You can’t walk around with your face like this.”

Can’t I?

It’s like this, day in, day out.  Can’t do this, can’t do that.  If it’s not Emily reminding me, then it’s my own logic keeping me in line.  Here’s a grocery list of guidelines of how to adjust your behavior, your thoughts, your everything. It’s not, after all, like you’re allowed to act like you.

What am I, anyway?  Certainly not the original Wilhelmina Sterling, but sometimes, I get so damn close. 

I hate this.  I hate her.  I hate this.

“And why not?” I snap out.  “Wilhelmina Sterling picks fights, is it really that weird if she picks the wrong fight and gets stabbed in the eye because of it?  Haven’t you always wanted to stab her in the eye anyway? No one’s going to think it’s weird that you finally had enough and did it!”

“What are you even trying to  – I haven’t always wanted to stab Wilhelmina in the face–”

“I’m sure Rosie Beckett’s always wanted to give it a shot.  But then again, that’s nothing new.  Who doesn’t want to stab her in the face?  Something like that should be normal by now.  Isn’t it normal?”

That’s what this world is like.  A step backwards in modern sensibilities, no sympathy required or even wanted.  Hard, cruel, completely insane in what it considers status quo.

I want to go home.

Emily tries saying something.  I don’t give her the chance.

“I’m sorry I’m making a fuss about this. It might be normal for you, but in my world, you don’t walk off being stabbed in the face!”

“It isn’t as if it’s normal here –”

“Then stop acting like it!”

Silence. Emily is making… an expression.  I don’t know what it is.  I don’t care what it is. I just…

I don’t want to be here.

“You’re right.”

I look up.  Emily has one hand over her eyes, looking a little like she has a headache.

“Am I?” I say.  “About what?”

She gestures vaguely at my head. “This would be a debilitating injury in anybody else.  A permanent one, in most cases.  For Wilhelmina… no.  She easily brushes off damage that would be significant and perhaps fatal to other people.  It doesn’t faze her.  You’re wearing her face.  I suppose I expected the same amount of indifference from you.  It’s…unreasonable of me to do so.”

…Huh.  “Is this an apology?”

“It’s an explanation. You can take it as an apology, if you’d like.”  She raises her hand, as if to go for my face again, and then drops it.  “Your eye probably is healed by now, but even if it isn’t, it’s good to get the blood off.  It can’t be comfortable.”  

She offers me the towel. I take it, because in the end, she’s right.  It isn’t comfortable.

“...It’s getting worse,” Emily says, as I gingerly dab at my eye.  She doesn’t need to clarify what it is. 

“You think so?” I say dryly.  I couldn’t even recognize my own name.  I don’t like that she stabbed me, but if she didn’t, I don’t know how long I would have been stuck like that.  If this goes on for much longer…

I can’t let this go on for much longer.

Another sigh.  “Was it you, last night?  Or….”

Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?  Was that me?

I let my head loll back.  “Wouldn’t we both like to know the answer to that.”

#wr3n #asks #m1sosazai #allison lee #wilhelmina sterling #emily oakford #identity issues #light and roses #my writing