#theres quite a few other things that get the same treatment

[just-your-average-tangerine]

Autism is only an invisible disability because you fuckers don't want to acknowledge that a good portion of those freaks, weirdos, creeps, and 'idk they just give me bad vibes' are autistic.

#actually autistic #actuallyautistic #autism #autistic #autism spectrum disorder #obviously thats not solely autism #theres quite a few other things that get the same treatment #but the point remains #autism is only invisible because you ignore it unless you can pity it #and the ones who arent invisible or pitiable are 'fakers' anyway #right #get fucked #op

[serenhoshi]

𝐃𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

got a request for dokyeomie, hope you’ll like it :))

DK is an INFP!!!!

this ray of sun is a living lover

he lives to find his other half, his soulmate, and just love them until they die

he lives to love, really

he does believe in soulmates, the red string or any other myth that makes lovers melt when they think of it

so i think that when he meets his s/o, its love at first sight really

he just loves their vibe (your vibe to get into the whole “imagine” thing)

its really a vibe thing, nothing has to do with your appearance, maybe even your gender (i’d see him as pansexual)

he’d be quite shy, but very guided by his beliefs and motives, so he would try and ask you out quickly

maybe he’ll take things a bit too fast, because he KNOWS that you’re the one for him, but this might scare you a bit

if you tell him, he’ll be more careful and gentle

on dates, and any time hes with you, he just looks at you with love and admiration

it truely is love at first sight, the members are kinda jealous to see how easy it was for him to find his s/o

he looks at you with stars in his eyes fr

tries to initiate physical touch like holding hands, or putting a hand on your waist while walking

once you get in a relationship i think he’ll cry

hes just so happy to finally be able to show you more of his love for you (if theres more to show lmao)

he keeps talking about you to the members

anytime they see each other he always says your name at least 10 times seungkwan said

in the same minute lmao

giggly boy, still blushes anytime you give him attention because you’re juste THAT attractive to him

admires anything you do, and supports you in all of your life decisions

a very supportive and helpful boyfriend

like even though he practiced for 12 hours, he comes to you and cooks you smth, or does the laudry or anything

he won’t rest, not if you need help (and even if you don’t he’ll still help)

SO emotionally supportive

he is a huge listener, when you need to vent he’ll sit down and listen to you, he won’t interrupt you, never

reminds you that he’s here by caressing your hands, or holding you close to him

out of all the members dokyeom would be one with the healthiest relationship

maybe the little “red flag” of the relationship would be his silent treatment

we had the example of it with the joshua and dk “fight” in a gose episode

he would be one to avoid fights, and just stay silent

if something annoys him he’ll stay silent so you “guess” what you did that made him mad

this would be very annoying for you and on the long run it’s tiring as well

but if you make things clear with him from the beginning then he’ll make an effort

he loves you too much not to try

Smutty part below :) 

sex with dokyeom is,, impressive??

this man behaves like a shy and lovely guy, and then he just shows another side of him in bed

hes so strong!!! 

(loves pinning you on the bed)

i think he has a size kink or smth like that, like he loves seeing how big he is on top of you-

always has you facing him, he just needs to see your face

likes to have sex a bit everywhere in your appartment, if it’s in the dorms then he prefers his bedroom, or maybe the living room if hes 100% sure that no one will come in

loves kissing! kisses you anywhere he can, on every inch of your skin. With time he learns and remembers the places that have more effect on you

if we ask him what he prefers between boobs, thighs or ass, he’d say the 3 of them

he just can’t keep his hands for himself and has to touch them, caress them (and kiss them ofc)

SO GOOD at eating you out!!!!!!!!! i think one of the best among the members

not very vocal in bed, just a few moans and grunts here and there, but nothing much

kinda like chocking-

like not really chocking but just likes having his hand around your throat when it gets rough

if you get your hand aroung his throat he’ll smile, finding you cute lmao

idk why i just can’t see him as a sub, he just switches and becomes more dominant in bed to me :)

#dokyeom #dk #seventeen dk #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #dokyeom imagines #dokyeom reactions #dokyeom drabbles #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #dokyeom fluff #dk fluff #dk smut #dokyeom smut #seventeen fluff #as a boyfriend

[cipheramnesia]

if t4t is a thing why are Ts obsessed with being considered men/women. Why cant there be men/women and transmen and transwomen. Clearly yall recognize theres a difference. Why not just embrace it instead of demonizing the rest of society for also recognizing theres a difference between trans people and cispeople.

Thank you for sending me this ask. It is an opportunity presented to me to get into the underlying assumptions which are used around transphobia and in general recruitment into authoritarian groups committed to maintaining oppressive hierarchy!

1) "If t4t is a thing why are [transgender people] obsessed with being considered men/women?"

A few things are going on with this opening question. In a broad sense, it's drawing a line over t4t relationships have a kind of inverse correlation to general trans rights, which isn't correct. The kind of relationship someone is in doesn't reflect some kind of de-prioritizing of them being deserving of equal rights and fair treatment.

The phrase "obsessed with being considered" is interesting to work with. What's being talked about here is the long running struggle for trans people to be recognized as people in general. It includes being treated with the same legal rights and protections as other people, it also includes not being socially ostracized, not being subject to disproportionate violence, not being used as clowns or jokes, having access to medical care. It also includes expanding both the legal and social idea of sex and gender in ways that accommodate both modern science and social changes, and which are meant to reduce gender inequality across the board.

For example, if we can recognize that gender has greater variance than male/female, it has the double effect of both reducing social and legal barriers to equality between men and women generally, and expanding these kinds of recognitions to include intersex and nonbinary people. If we understand that gender is complex enough that a reductive "M/F" marking on a paperwork isn't adequate, it means fewer people can be singled out for specific biases in circumstances such as medical treatment or employment. Your doctor needs to know what your insides do, but they don't need to have an M/F on a form for that. No employer should need to know your gender to make a hiring decision, and so on.

Anyway, all of these complex legal and social and medical and etc issues affect us, trans people, and others, every day. However, the underlying narrative in the ask here is simplifying this as merely obsessed over what other people think. This kind of reductive shorthand is a pretty common route that radical right recruiters like to use. For example, the detailed and complex nature of sex and gender, and the myriad ways they are neither binary, nor strictly fit into a clear male/female division is commonly reduced to "trans people think sex isn't real."

Last, but not least, is the assumption that trans people think about gender in the binary of man/woman. Perhaps some do, but not myself, and there's quite a lot of trans people that don't fit any binary at all who are also affected by the various systems that maintain gender as binary and hierarchical.

Which means that the answer to this question is "we aren't" but also the question itself is so steeped in specific underlying assumptions that a direct answer legitimizes them. It's not just that the answer to the question is "we aren't" it's that the context of the question is wrong. It's meant to draw the topic into the grounds of "what trans people want other people to do" rather than "we would like greater equality with regard to sex and gender overall, and better medical care for everyone."

2) "Why cant there be men/women and transmen and transwomen. Clearly yall recognize theres a difference. Why not just embrace it"

This one is fun, because it's taking something that is already part of a more complex idea of gender, and inverting it. Again, it's still trying to fix this as strictly men and women, which is really fascinating with how much I try to beat the drum about sex and gender not being limited male or female. But, okay, we know they're trying to keep this as a binary argument and that's a fallacy from the jump.

The idea here is that there should be separate but equal categories of "woman and trans woman" and "man and trans man." But a system that both addresses this and is inclusive rather than exclusionary already exists. We have a broad gender category of woman or man, and this can include cis, trans, intersex, and others. Rather than trying to separate out woman or man as categories which can only include an idea of gender which, when you get down into the construction of gender, doesn't exist, a more useful tool is to understand that woman or man are both broader categories which can include multiple versions of those genders. Not only that, but it allows us to more usefully understand how gender isn't always reduced to male or female. Intersex can exist as its own category to include trans as a subset. Nonbinary can exist as a category to include trans masculine / feminine as a subset, and so on.

The underlying assumption here is that "recognizing genders are different" means "recognizing that if you are trans you should be excluded from any cis gender" and so again the answer here is "we already do that" but the assumption is wrong enough that there's no way to answer it yes or no with out legitimizing the idea of gender as exclusionary and reductive.

3) "instead of demonizing the rest of society"

In this case "demonizing" really just means "people who are openly bigoted experience relatively minor public disapproval while continuing to promote bigotry."

And "the rest of society" is akin to the previous assumption in that it has a framework where there are "trans people" and "society" and the two are separate. It additionally contextualizes "all of society" as equivalent with "opposed to trans rights" while in reality it's typically people with transphobic views who are in the minority.

Lastly, it includes the idea that trans people, as a relatively small percentage of the global population, have the ability to "demonize" the entirety of all global societies which, once you think about the idea that trans people are some fully united group around the world oppressing a generic and homogeneous non-trans society, it's clear this entire statement is patently absurd.

4) "for also recognizing theres a difference between trans people and cispeople."

This is basically a rehash of earlier items, but the false assumption here is that just because we understand sex and gender can have significant variation from binary male or female does not mean it is equivalent to the exclusionist reduction of "biological man/woman" and binary genders only. It's possible to recognize differences in people in ways that are oppressive or in ways that promote equity. The "recognized" difference this anon is talking about is the oppressive version, but by equating all differences as functionally the same, they are trying to create a narrative where these differences maintain systemic oppression, rather than reduce it.

Anyway, thank you for the added stimulation anon, it's been awhile since I dissected a bad-faith ask to demonstrate how hiding underlying assumptions in seemingly simple statements can be used to direct people towards authoritarian positions, without appearing to do so. As we can see, most of these questions, if addressed on their own terms, require engaging with gender view a lens of systemic oppression. If we don't unpack these innate details, it can be very easy to be drawn into debate on the grounds of the oppressor's assumptions, and follow what seems like a logical pathway to authoritarian ideals.

Note also how short and simple each statement is. By reducing complex ideas to very simple statements, it makes it a little more difficult to peel back the layers and see the intent. It also is designed to direct your attention away from looking for those underlying assumptions. By making it more difficult to consider complex ideas and easier to draw you in to conversing in a way which accepts those ideas, the question itself becomes a kind of rhetorical weapon.

(I haven't checked this over for grammar or consistency)

#long post #transphobia #authoritarianism

[snow-system-wol]

S'ria finally gets to learn about himself -- even if it's uncomfortable that it was through someone else. (Partway through the first Gyr Abania visit. Does reference S'ria Snippets Ch 12 events.)

warnings: nothing specific, but memory loss and cultural identity weirdness. theres a snake

Ao3

It'd gotten back to S'ria eventually – subtly at first, the obvious rumor mill whispering in his vicinity. Several of the people at camp started looking at him differently.

There'd been awe from some of them before, the usual response his reputation seemed to elicit. There was something new there, now – those that had seemed a bit jaded to his presence now looked a bit…softer towards him? And those that were previously too intimidated by the Warrior of Light title to speak with him suddenly found the courage and comfort to do so. He appreciated both the kindness and the willingness to treat him a bit more like a normal person, but it just left him confused.

S'ria honestly had no idea what had happened for such an overnight shift.

His first real clue was someone calling him “brother”, same as she referred to the other members of the Resistance. The only other person among them that got that treatment was Lyse.

His second clue was that Alisaie and Lyse had both been acting strange ever since he'd passed out in the desert yesterday (which he was, quite frankly, still embarrassed about). He could understand them perhaps being overbearing or concerned or even dubious of his health. This was something else though. S'ria had suffered enough lapses in his memory to wonder if there'd been more that, something he'd missed happening. Usually it was battles that disappeared from recall, but occasionally other things caused it too.

S'ria didn't need the benefit of a third clue, because J’tandhaa came right out and said it.

It might've happened sooner, if he'd had a prior reason to speak with her. As things were, her wares and his interests didn't much align – but he had dropped by purely on a favor for someone else. She leaned over, conspiratorially, and quietly said that she wanted to let him know something. Purely as a courtesy among fellow survivors. He didn't have time to question what that meant before she continued.

“Your friend, the young girl – she's been asking some prying questions about your past. She's likely figured out that your tribe used to be here from context, and I think other parts of camp have heard it on the wind as well.”

Your tribe used to be here? S'ria had a different question for almost every single word in that phrase, and the very first was perhaps why she seemed to think he'd understand what was being said. His voice came out high and stressed, managing to crack multiple times on just a few syllables. “Pardon? She what?”

The look J’tandhaa gave him was sympathetic, almost unbearably so. “She pointed out the exact location on the map – whatever…reaction you may have had to passing by your home must've been worrying to them, for her to start asking around.” 

S'ria placed both hands on the counter, as slowly and gently as he could to avoid slamming them into the surface instead, and stared down at the wood. “I don't know what you are talking about.”

She started to respond and her voice quickly tripped from the start of annoyance at his response to genuine uncertainty. “You're an S Tribe boy, aren't you?”

“It's in my name.” S'ria knew she wanted a better answer than that, but he was having a hard time understanding what the question meant. He could only hope that the bland half-dissociated response didn't come out sounding fully impertinent.

“I thought… aren't you a real member, not just from one of those city-seeking families that still claim the name for their own – if you don't want to answer, just say so instead of getting smart with me.”

S'ria could almost laugh. That was why so many people suddenly started treating him differently? Because they had this false hope that he was really one of them, that he belonged here? The want for the vaunted hero of the realm to be someone just like them? That misunderstanding was cruel for everyone involved.

Except… S'ria couldn't say for certain that it actually was a misunderstanding. Nothing was disproving it. He was fairly certain his name had always been S'ria. He'd allegedly not been in Limsa Lominsa before Jacke found him, when they were both teens. He didn't know who his parents were, couldn't remember anything before the Rogue's. And, most damningly perhaps – even if he didn't remember what had happened out in the hills, it was increasingly clear that he'd missed something important again.

It…sounded more plausible the longer he thought about it. He had over a decade unaccounted for, almost anything could've happened. It was also nearly impossible to consider, though. S'ria had long since given up on trying to recover his past – and had always harboured doubts as to whether that was a good idea in the first place. But here, there was suddenly a tempting answer to pursue.

It took most of S'ria's courage to push forward into the unknown.

“I don't know.” He wished he was no longer standing, the way his legs shook to admit that. “I wish I could give you a better answer. But I don't remember.”

J’tandhaa didn't immediately respond, lapsing into something that S'ria didn't know how to interpret. He was fairly certain that she hadn't wanted this complicated of a conversation and that maybe he should walk away now.

He was stopped by her speaking up again. “I have an idea. Might not work but it's an idea. Let me get someone to tend the wares and then I'll meet you at the south entrance.”

She took off immediately and S'ria was left to meander towards the meeting point and wonder if he should've tried to stop her first. Somehow, out of all that had happened, this was one of the most terrifying moments he'd experienced lately.

They were barely a few dozen steps out of the Reach when S'ria stopped and turned to her with a look of horrified realization.

“You – you aren't taking me back to that spot, are you?”

She shook her head and the fear immediately dropped from his face. “No. Though the fact that you seemed immediately scared of going back to the remains feels like it should already be an answer for you.”

S'ria was completely at a loss for how to respond to that and, after a few moments of silence, J’tandhaa began walking again. She assured him that they likely wouldn't need to go far at all.

She paused once more to ask him, suspiciously, if he had any sort of phobias of creatures or critters. S'ria responded with a somewhat baffled no.

They wove past beasts and kept an ear out for patrols, all while she kept her attention firmly fixed towards the ground. She seemed to be getting a bit frustrated. S'ria was about to ask what she was even looking for and if he could help – and then she made an excited noise and immediately dove down to plunge her hands into a thicket of dry grass.

“S'ria, come down here and look at this.”

He dropped into a crouch by her, a touch nervously. Perhaps it was warranted, because she immediately turned around and lifted a snake up to him.

Now, S'ria wasn't at all scared of snakes, and there was nothing particularly threatening about this one – striped with thin white bands on black scales, barely the length of his arm. Despite that, he still felt an immediate jolt of fear – moving from a crouch to gracefully landing on his ass in his haste to put some distance between himself and the snake.

J’tandhaa chuckled, not unkindly. “Wrong snake, friend. This one's black with white bands – the one that'll kill you is white with black bands.” Her expression grew more serious, face softer. She put the snake back into the grass and reached out a hand to help S'ria to his feet. “A child wouldn't much know the difference, better for your mother to beg you to avoid any snakes with those color stripes. Aye, you wouldn't flinch if you didn't have the instinct to be afraid.” She patted S'ria on the back, heedless of the fact that he looked like he might easily keel over. “Welcome home.”

#ffxiv-oc #snow-system #S'ria 🌸❄️ #ffxiv-reactions #writings #he's not quite so keen on the whole 'real' member thing that's happening

[manchasama]

They aren't quite old settlements, but I could 100% imagine there being some and I'd go with it.

there was some secrecy around them, that at least might be interesting. There was a town with a market who would only sell to members, and owning the Secret Power TM was proof of membership. (It was mainly secret base decorations and a few tms which included secret power, the move needed to create secret base. The adventurer fellow who teaches you about Secret bases goes on sells their own stuff in their shop built inside a tree in the Tree-walkway town. Skyla's gym town it was really a cool aesthetic/building place. )

Yeah pokemon was using portals/fallers for a bit. (If you hadn't played the games, there were basically a race of blue-skinned aliens, who could travel to other portals/worlds researching/studying them, while trying to seek out a way to help their deity, Necrozma, that their ancestors had harmed/injured. The aliens were wonderful, and traveled though these portals on the sun/moon legendaries back.

Ingo's the faller everyone clicked with, but there was canonically also a Looker/Anabelle, who people liked but lacked that certain angsty bite that the submas had. Though I'd argue theres a lot that could be done with Looker There was also a npc who vanished, but somehow was able to leave a message in a bottle saying they were fine/happy were they where, which brought comfort to the other npc. And there was that entire thing with Lusamine, who's actions were entirely based on the concept too. Her husband vanished though one of those portals, and she effectively mistreated herself, her children and others in her quest to try and find them again. In game they never reunite, pokemon anime had them reunite very recently. )

(Specifically for the first game, she's *badly* messed up by the alien pokemon and is sent to jhoto for experimental treatment. Theres no hint she even knows what happened to her husband, just that she likely had to give up for her own health/safety. In the Second game, she knows/is aware/even saw her husband, who is the Bean Guy in both games. But because he has no memories of his past life, she didn't want to disrupt his life, and just never tells him that she knows him. )

Been a bit but I wanted to answer anyway lol

This was in regards to those hidden bases if I'm remembering right, which again is a very cool concept. And a good base for interesting storyship, even if it doesn't completely follow canon. No lore? Just add writer! Or rather re-write lore lolol~ But this would be a fun opportunity to write about a secret community and how all that works.

I have seen stuff about the fallers here and there, but the concept is pretty depressing overall. The loss of memory and having no anchor to your past is a bit much for my interests. The reason Ingo resonates is that I do know his past and can reunite him with it! You can thank my cowriter of yore for corrupting my perception on personhood and memories.

Because we love timetravel fics, right? Where the MC goes back in time and gets a re-do button basically. But she pointed out long ago that the people the MC interacts with are not the people they left behind. That the people left behind are for all intents and purposes dead. Just because they have the same name and face, they are missing the key interactions and memories. It can never be the same. For some this is okay! For me? Idk, it's not a good headspace for me I suppose? Makes me uncomfy.

*side eyes some submas fics* Which is why I start out liking some fics a lot, but peeter off depending on how it goes after reunion. I can only take so much hurt without comfort. And to me the comfort is the return of memories and self.

Uh, yeah sorry tangent. I have seen Looker and Annabelle go by in some fics, but don't have too much of an opinion on them. I'd have to look into their stories, but really I'm happy in my little submas corner. Other characters would only be to support me writing stories about the bros.

#personal opinions ahead #answering asks #i like knowing a lot of facts and stories and characters in a world #so that i can better flesh out the ones im interested in #if that makes sense #i am so effing hot hhhhhhhhhh

[solardick]

Theres snow outside! What?! No way?!

Yes way.

Uh, not the best. Starts good with fear. But overall message works. It moves on to Dax

And the news about ukraine and the pope. Mr. francis. Asking ukraine, to put up a white flag. At roughly the same time my preliminary attention began focusing on Russia. Ukraine themselves said “no.” No peace talks with russia. While asking every other nation they can to aid them. It seems on surface level. That they are unwilling to sacrifice what little land they have already lost.

This all seems very familiar to the last few years. Save knowing it started long before the war. It serves as a supportive influence of the fortification of the will.

Thinknim dying. Lung hurts. Still. Its been months. Sorry i didn’t listen god but they wouldnt leave me alone always sabotaging me. Im not going theought hat treatment. For a slim chance at survival. Why? Ehats tje point of oiving ajyway. Ti be fucked with some more? Except for that weeks vacation time i took. My lung didn’t feel a thing. Until i went back to work. I gotta quit. Go back to being jobless again. Whochbis syicide anyway. I miss women. The only guidance ove wver got was from you. People suck. No one has ever told me anything upfront. 40 years of nothing. And the very few times they have. It’s been indirecr as of speaking of another person. I hate been alive.

Make ne guess at these stupid cards when there’s already a complete set out there. Holding the answer being language. And too bar the Devs of tblr are lgtbqueer mental disorder enthuthiasts. Ruinign abgreat platform.

Tv commercials are judge beauty, played by judge judy. Justice. Wc donalds. Get it? The wheel and the moon. The horrible tarot version of bs and death and then it goes to a cancer charity. Hahahah. Oh god. Blow up the world pls. Pardon me while i get assinated. Slow and painfully by my own government.

And i was having the first dream in… i cant remember when. I was living with my only x. And one day. She was gone and while i was in my appartment. I found she “moved” in. As she had put her stuff in my place. But, it was out of a horror flick. And i had a spychotic break from reality because of all the unexpected foreign horror crap. Like a dolls head as a ceiling light. That was talking to me. And furniture out of place. Hard to describe. But then she comes back. And theres still this distance. And i told her what haopened. She didnt really care. So i startted brushed my own cheek with my thumb. An dit felt really good cause she wouldn’t comfort me. And i felt at peace for a minute and then my alarm goes off and i wake.

And then i receive a message from tmblr. It was another lgtbfuck solidarity message. Ugh. While my lung hurts. And having proctisis like symptoms. Only severe on the weekends. Apparently. Except the lung. Only at work. So. Da fuck. Still being raped. Nearly 40 straight years. So when my lung isnt hurting i have a constant desire to take a shit. To the point its almost painful. While the news about the war is full of bs. Russia saying we cant rule out world war. If foreign bodies cant mind their own bussiness by helping ukraine. And allied forces saying we cant rule out sending troops to help ukraine. I hate life. Whole ukraine says. We aint listening to the pope. We ain’t having peace talks with russia. While a large oercentage of americans, canadians specificaaly. With the whole gay movement is agaisnt the church. Because they are the source of all wars. And they fondle little boys and dont supprt people sucking each other off for satisfaction of desires. No shit.

But now im working with a moroccan. Who practice yabadon or whatever. Where they practice resistance agaisnt bodily desires by starving themselves periodically through out the year. This kid knows atleast three languages.and so optimistic. So thats an upside i guess. Doesnt help mych if im already dying. And get bombarded with this other bs. Consistently. At every step and turn of my life. But ehy they decide to move to the americas when they arew the anti-thesis to all their beleifs. Starves yourselves what?! Fuck their dumb. Why do they do that to themselves. Man, every fucken american says the same exact thing about them. Go suck yourswlf offf eoth. Banana flavours condoms. And your extra large mc donalds servings. But atleast i have something positive to absorb to counter the consistioning of free peace and butt love and succubing to desires over the rational. Unlike what is olagues this fucken country. I camt believe they have the wntire land brainwashed into believing this shit is true. So while he’s doing that. Im going to fallow suit. Absorb his motovation. And quit smoking. Not starve myself. Because. That would be senseless and none required at this point in time. Though they arent as productive as the americans are. Because they are starving themselves. But its all in good conscience. Something. That isnt very well supporting here. And we’ll see if my ling problem goes away. And if it doesnt. It does t really matter. I’ll die. Not going through that without any love. Suicide it is. Ive been beaten enough by my own family and the last several years of this fake reality and this community of assholes.

Wow, that was much. Im afraid to read it.

Anyway. I think i need to go to the hospital. My lung is fucked. Theres something wrong with it. Its dying. Im so stupid. Its unbelievable. Can’t help it. I have a death wish. And now i think. That maybe…. Maybe my life instinct reaction. Whatever. Comes in. At the end. When its too late.

Life accomplishments….. i invented a couple tarot cards. Not much to look back on. Tried my best to avoid it all. But people wouldn’t let me. What it is, is a question to ask. The existential question of life. Knowing i was murdered. Slowly. But its ok. Cause theres is no point whne one looks back to the beginning. Not one point. Nothing good. I never stood a chance. From the get go. There’s no longevity that isnt negative. The positives are fleeting. They killed me. My family and then all them else. Needed some peace. Never got it. Hit after hit. Year after year.

#Spotify

[nightowlfandom]

Yandere! Corrupt Angel! Keigo Takami X Demon! Reader- Episode 1/3: The Same Side Of A Coin

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Hey friends.....this is a ride Theres talkings of suicide, sinning, degredation, heaven vs hell and religious themes. You’ve been warned.

Leggo

...

You stood in the middle of the dancefloor, staring around the room. Once a year heaven and hell would come together and host the gala of the century. The Dark One and The Holy One would set aside their differences one day out of the year and host a party bringing both their children together for a huge affair.

Every demon and angel across the nine realms would show up. The beautiful, the ethereal, and the not so beautiful too. You watched as each leader sat respectfully on their thrones.

You watched as The Dark One looked over his people. It was times like this you admired the man. Your soul had mistakenly fallen to the pits of hell when an angel who wouldn’t do their job correctly denied your entry to heaven. You were given special treatment as a result.

The other demons knew you didn’t do anything wrong and they didn’t hold it against you. In fact, the other demons treated you like a kid sister. They never let you near any real demon business. 

“Ah, Young Y/N! Come!” The Dark One waved you over. “There’s someone you must meet my child.” 

“Yes, Sir!” you gave a thumbs up from the crowd. “Excuse me, Pardon me.” you shimmied through the crowd. You caught the eye of many angels. The other demons spoke highly of you, saying how the feather freaks would be lucky to have you...they were right.

You wore a black gown, with a pretty decorative necklace. Your wrists were decorated in beautiful lace cuffs that matched the rings on your right hand.

“Y/N, my word you look beautiful as ever.” The Dark One praised. “I want you to meet-”

“The Holy One, I know you...my family speaks...spoke-” you corrected yourself. “Highly of you.”

“Y/N, as I live and breathe. Old Goat Face wasn’t kidding.”

“Oh shut up and fix your bedsheet, Cloud Breath.”

You giggled as the two argued like siblings. 

“Y/N, I would like to personally apologize. I’m afraid some of my children can be quite...elite about who the let through the gates.”

You remember being thrown down the stairs, falling for a while, then landing next to a lake of lava. Of course that was a while ago.

“It’s okay...not like I was the purest soul in the world anyways.” you shrugged. 

“Sin does not define you my child, I’m sure your heart would have landed you here with me had a different angel been working that day.”

That didn’t change the fact that you were booted to hell. No one could change that even if they wanted to.

“Ah! Keigo My boy! Over here!” You watched as The Holy One waves someone over. You kept your eyes on the Dark One.

“How are you holding up, dear?”

“I’m well.” you bowed respectfully. “Sorry for not socializing enough.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, my dear girl. As long as you are enjoying yourself.”

You smiled, about to reply when a new body came into the picture. A tall man, in a black tuxedo strode up to you, the dark, and the holy One. he was obviously an angel from his golden thin rimmed halo hanging above his head of sandy brown hair. Only instead of white wings, his were blood red. They were unlike any you’ve ever seen before. You had never seen a higher level angel before in the flesh.

“Y/N, Triple 6....this is Keigo.”

“Nice to meet you, man. Don’t let twinkle toes tell you anything about us. Demons aren’t so bad. Y/N here is proof of that.”

“Y/N huh?” you finally met his sharp eyes. His gaze held yours for what felt like an eternity. His smug expression slightly faltered as he stared at you. His lips parted slightly at the sight of you. Never in all his days had he seen such a low level demon hold such a high priestess appearance. “I’m...charmed to meet you.”

“Likewise.” you bowed your head respectfully. You had noticed a few select demons getting near you. All the upper levels seemed to glare at this Keigo person with intense hate and you were positive it wasn’t just because of the color differences. 

“You don’t have horns.”

“Excuse me?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You have no horns.” he said again, a smirk teasing his lips.

You moved your hair from in front of your forehead to reveal two little bone-ish stubs. They weren’t sharp, nor prominent like the higher-ups. You remembered the others saying you needed horns that fit you just right. They would grow...eventually. 

“Hm, Keigo, Y/N...why don’t you two go on the dancefloor?” The Holy One asked.

“With this asshole? No thanks.” you rolled your eyes. “You think just because your higher up than me, you can disrespect me?” you crossed your arms. (Read more below the break)

...

“Disrespect. Dear girl, it was merely an observation!” he looked amused at your anger.

“Don’t you smile at me.” you seethed. “I know a pompous ass when I see it.”

“Y/N, do try and calm yourself.” The Dark One put a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it with malice.”

“Come on. What do you say.” he held out his hand. He winked.

“Only because I refuse to say no to a God twice.” you seethed.

Everyone watched as Keigo, wings spread crossed the dancefloor with you on his arm. You obviously weren’t too happy, given your first impression had already down down the drain. 

He’d better not touch Y/N if he knows what’d good for him,

Keigo of all people, dancing with a demon doesn’t surprise me.

You tried to ignore the gossip as a hand rested at the base of your spine. Keigo looked down at you, his smugness unwavering as he began move with you to the music. It was a low, slow jazzy tune with what could be described as a ‘sensual piano’ melody. 

“I really didn’t mean it the way you took it, doll.” he whispered in your ear. “But you’ve got fire, I respect that.”

“I..I’m sorry.” you sighed. “I’m just...used to people degrading me because-”

“This is so new to you.” he finished, his smile slightly faltering. “I was like that too, thousands of years ago.”

“Well I’m on year two so-” you scoffed. “It’s not that bad...I guess. Hell isn’t as bad as the books say it is.”

“Well heaven isn’t all clouds and rainbows either, doll. I’ve been banished so many times I’ve lost count.”

“Banished? I don’t understand.” you tilted your head to the side.

Keigo could see what was left of your innocent aura hanging around you. Most people who fell into the pits of hell were already long gone with no trace of human emotion or attachment. You...were different. It reminded him of...himself once upon a time.

“I’ve gone rogue. They tried to restrain me but they give keep giving me chances.” he shook his head. “That’s the think about the Cloud Kingdom, dear. They refuse to believe there are bad people in the world.” 

“Is that why...your wings are-”

‘No...that’s more of a stylistic choice...can’t let all those souls go to waste can I?” he winked. “Red suits me don’t you think.”

“Y-yes.” you replied honestly, finding it hard to lie. 

“So what about you?” he raised an eyebrow. Among the hum of the other patrons and the music, not to mention your demonic heart thumping loudly against your chest you felt Keigo’s breath on the shell of your ear. It was like he was telling you a secret. “What brings you to the pits...killing an ant by accident?”

“My application for the gates was apparently denied.”

“No why would that be.” you don’t look like the type to sin.

“Trust me.” you shook your head. “I’ve sinned more times than I can count...I guess putting a bullet in my head was the last straw.”

Keigo’s breath hitched in his throat as you told your story. You...you shot yourself? Such a small thing? You weren’t a murderer, or god forbid anything else. He felt himself silently fill with rage. You had the glow of an angel that was for sure.

“I’ve come to terms with it. Guess I wasn’t worthy.” you shrugged.

“You are always worthy.” he abruptly cut you off. “It’s these white wear wearing, cloud riding fuckers that aren’t worthy.” he seethed. ‘What other sins could you have possibly committed.”

“...The Dark One hasn’t told you?...I’m a lust demon in training.” you explained. “I used sex to fill voids when I was alive. When I couldn’t replace my pain with pleasure...kapow!” you put your fingers to your head and faked a gunshot.

“Lust demon?” Keigo raised an eyebrow. “That explains why you look so sexy tonight.” he flirted.

“Are you hitting on me?” your eyes widened.

“Depends. Do you like it?”

You hadn’t noticed that Keigo body was flush against yours. Skin to skin. You felt warm, scorching hot beneath him. That was the demon fire. 

“Y-yeah.” you nodded. “I do...wow-” you stepped back from him and fanned yourself. 

“Is everything alright?” Keigo stepped forward and laced his hands in yours. 

“What have you done to our sister?” a high priestess demoness waltzed up. She glared at Keigo who seemed unfazed, only raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, Dear are you alright?”

“I don’t know.” your chest heaved. “I feel- so...” you partially moaned.

“What has this angel scum done to our sister.” a male demon stormed up. He unfurled his dragon-esque wings. “Sister Y/N, say something.”

“I need air...I have to go outside.” you immediately walked away. Keigo, in a confused state watched you walk away.

“Sister Y/N is unwell! We must go after her.”

“She’ll be fine, we’ll know if she’s in trouble.”

Call it instinct, but he had to follow you.

#anime x reader #anime imagines #anime scenarios #anime headcanons #anime x reader imagines #anime x reader scenarios #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha hawks #bnha keigo #mha au #bnha au #nightowlfandom #fan fic #smut imagines #hawks smut #hawks lemon #bnha lemon #keigo lemon #keigo takami lemon #keigo takami smut #keigo takami bnha #hawks x reader imagines #x reader #imagines #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami au

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

It annoys me when people complain about Julian and call him “whiny “. The person that John hurt the most throughout his whole life is his own son! I feel like this gets glossed over because he was more attentive to Sean “At least he was a good father to one of his children”. John failed Julian massively. Having Sean should’ve motivated him to try harder with Julian but I feel like it demotivated him because he realised how much of Julian’s life he missed and that made him feel bad about himself. Even in May’s book she says that John would’ve avoided Julian for the rest of his life to avoid feeling bad about himself & the choices he made with his life. And even when he got his visa he was happy to fly to other countries but not the country containing his son! I mean c’mon that’s very shitty and inexcusable. People can’t relate to John’s callous treatment of Julian so it’s downplayed and undermined by the excuse of “Oh well, John was better with Sean”. I know John appeared more motivated towards the end but doesn’t absolve him of the damage and pain he already caused to his son.

I try to understand John’s neglect of Julian from his perspective - I don’t want to excuse or justify it, but I still want to know what was going through his head to make him treat Julian the way he did - but I just can’t really understand it in the same way I feel like I can empathise with a lot of John’s other flaws. Like I feel like I can understand Johns mistreatment of certain people, or his mood swings, or his anger etc. But when it comes to Julian I struggle to understand him, and I just think its such a shame that Julian never got the closure he deserved with John. But I guess a few things to keep in mind when discussing this are:

1. Alfs abandonment

That Johns father, Alfred, abandoned him at such a young age, this might have affected John in such a way that made connecting with children a real challenge. Of course, he ideally still would’ve made an effort to connect with Julian more - but I guess that this was 1963, and he was someone who at this point had had absolutely no therapy. John’s own father I think was placed in an orphanage around the age of 5, so this neglect and abandonment appeared to be a bit of a cycle within the Lennon family-tree. Alf didn’t develop the neurones to be able to connect with his son the way a father ideally should be able to, and therefore John had trouble forming these connections too.

A real tragic story regarding this disconnect is one that ive heard Paul tell a few times (see this interview at 6:24 to hear him tell it). He essentially compares his ability to just naturally connect with children, to John’s inability to do the same; Paul grew up in a household where children and babies alike were around all the time - and in addition to this, there seemed to have been a lot more affection involved in his early environment compared to Johns. So when Paul was able to pal around at ease with Julian, John asked “How do you do that?” - and its unfortunately just not something you can just learn. I think John did want to be able to relate to Julian, and a part of him wanted to be a real dad - but I guess he just lacked the initiative to do so, as well as not having the needed facilities provided for him to be able to function as “good” parent (< or in other words, that man needed alottttttttt of therapy omg—)

2. Aunt Mimi’s coldness

I think by now its sort of been established that im not Mimi’s no. 1 fan - I don’t hate her, and I think she genuinely loved John, but ive been pretty critical of what I perceive her parenting style to be like. One aspect of this parenting style is that I think she was cold and deprecating towards John, which I presume took a toll on his relationships in such a way that made him susceptible to cynicism and even bitter contempt towards those he loved most.

“She never hit him: her worst punishment was to ignore him…When she did, he’d plead, ‘Don’t ‘nore me, Mimi!’” - I think that this type of parenting style could have effected the way John relates to Julian, perhaps making him feel it was okay to abandon him, maybe as a result of some unrecognised childhood angst or revenge.

Theres also a story where I think John said something to Julian a long the lines of, “I hate your laugh!”. Like, Jules was just some four year old living his life and then John, his own father, had this massive fucking mood swing. I feel bad for Julian cause my parents were like this (had random fucking mood swings and said some pretty contemptuous things) so I can empathise with him. At the same time though, I feel like I can understand John getting these mood swings (although, I don’t think that showing that kind of contempt towards a child is at all acceptable, and assuming that this sort of thing was a regular occurrence, I would say he was emotionally abusive towards Julian. Maybe John got these mood swings from Mimi (check this post for more on that).

3. Yoko’s influence and isolation

I think we first have to take into account here that John had a history of neglecting and failing Julian, and from what im aware of, he only started making contact with him again during his ‘Lost Weekend’ after being encouraged to do so by May Pang. So I don’t think we can make Yoko take all the blame for Johns neglect of Julian (and certainly not his emotional abuse towards Julian). But I think we have to also account for the fact that Julian has stated Yoko would refuse to put him through when he would ring his dad. And I just don’t know how much John had to do with that - as in, I don’t if John knew Yoko was isolating him to the extent that she did, or if he was unaware that she was rejecting several important and significant figures in his life.

For what its worth, Julia Baird wrote in her memoir of John urging (or really, begging) her to go to Cynthias house and ask Julian to phone him, because he hadn’t been able to get through to Julian, and he was trying to construct a better relationship with him around this time (this was before Sean was born, like you said, he seemed to lose motivation with Julian after Sean was born). I don’t know why Julian wasn’t taking his calls around this time - John seemed to think it had something to do with Cynthia, perhaps it was an autonomous decision made by Julian, perhaps it was entirely just a misunderstanding; I don’t know.

When it comes to Yoko, im conflicted - to some extent, I think John was being manipulated by her, and she was clearly isolating (even abusing) him - but also, he’s a grown man, and so he had to take the initiative for his own life. So I don’t know, but id say she is still partly responsible for spoiling Johns relationship with Julian.

~ ~ ~

At the end of the day, all I can really say is that John was just a classic case of parents needing therapy before they start, y’know, parenting - but it was 1963, and thats just not something most people underwent back then, especially people with more complex and unrecognised traumas, as well as mental illnesses that, whilst prevalent, may not have been so apparent. To clarify that point, I think John could function well-enough in his day to day life to be able to get by, because I don’t think his traits of mental illness tended to disrupt his life to such a degree that he could not function (at least not in 1963, though in later years, id argue more so they did; but even still, I don’t think John tended to struggle with mania or psychosis etc.) But I think he was still dealing with mental illness in a way that wrecked almost all meaningful relationships for him, as well as made feeling love and functioning as an emotionally stable and consistent person, a real hardship and challenge for him. And this inability to feel loved and cared for etc. made being a parent, quite simply, impractical. He needed therapy, and its a shame he died before ever receiving real therapy because it would’ve been interesting to see how John might have come to terms with really acknowledging his failures as a parent, and because Julian might have gotten some real closure with his dad.

All in all, I think Phillip Larkin said it best

#sorry this took a minute #these aren’t all my thoughts on John and Julians relationship btw #i have MANYYY more obviously #but these are just 3 things to consider i guess #asks #anon #discussion #julian #abuse #john lennon #john #johns psyche #alfred lennon #bpd #cynthia lennon #cynthia powell #paul mccartney #julian lennon #complex relationships

[ladycatland]

Just remembered I didn't have this rant yet.

Tubbo called Tommy selfish before he exiled him and he was right. But. Tommy's selfishness was justified.

People that are only really joining the smp now probably dont quite get why tommys the "main character"

And while i cant speak for his revolutionary days I know that he gave his disks in exchange for independence. On his own. After already losing a life in the duel.

And from what I know both were his idea! Tommy lost two lives and two disks just to get lmanberg STARTED.

Then he was exiled with wilbur and had to live in hiding. Planning on getting back the country he pretty much sacrificed his most treasured possessions for. Seperated from his best friend. Only wilbur by his side.

He got technoblade involved.

He was there to witness wilbur losing it.

And he tried to talk with Wilbur! Noone ever mentions how he tries to battle against the corruption that grows in wilbur by talking to him. Imitating the way wilbur talks as best as he can.

But hes not quite as good at talking as wilbur and maybe wilbur doesnt even really want to listen to him anyways and it just becomes worse.

And theres pretty much noone there to witness it but technoblade until the festival.

And techno supports the whole corruption thing!

Tommy is pretty much completely isolated, fighting on every front. He fights against manberg, he fights against wilbur (his closest ally even at that point), he fights against dream supporting wilbur.

Then the festival happens and technos "betrayal"

And i was at that point a techno apologist. IF YOU FIND MY POSTS FROM THE FESTIVAL TIME I MADE POSTS LIKE THIS DEFENDING TECHNOBLADE HIGH AND LOW HE DID NOTHING WRONG.

But he also still killed tubbo. And noone but tommy seemed angry about that. So tommy got angry on tubbos behalf and the fucking pit happened and yada yada.

They take back lmanberg and FINALLY. All the selflessness, all the sacrifices he made payed off. He gave so much, he was dealt such a ahit card but he persevered and he did it. He couldve taken the easy way and accepted schlatts offer that one time when schlatt said he could join manberg. But nope, they took back lmanberg and everything was right.

And then techno and wilbur happened.

And every single sacrifice he made was for nothing. Less than bothing actually.

But anyways. Tommy just went through a fckin nightmare, canonically has nightmares about his insane brother and is pretty much fucked.

Everyone is busy with rebuilding and all but now. Now he needs to be selfish. Because hes given a lot and has nothing but trauma to show for it, so before he goes back to serving lmanberg he will be selfish and get his disks back to earn back some of his solid footing. Some ground to stand on. He indulges the stupid ideas he has more as a form of selfcare. And thus accidentally sets Georges house on fire. Not a big deal. Except that dream does make a big deal out of it.

And then the whole pre exile fiasco starts

And people often criticise that he didnt just behave for a few days but honestly? Can you blame him??? The kid has been stuck in a ravine for what mustve been months lorewise! He was as well behaved as Tommyinnit could probably be during that time.

But that chapter shouldve been over by now and he probably didnt have any selfcontrol left and hobestly? Same. You can only be on your best behaviour for so long before you explode. And dream made sure he'd explode too! He sent him whispers that were supposed to rile him up and all. His treatment before and during exile were designed by dream to not be fair in a way that was extremely obvious to him and only him.

And once again his selfishness pre exile was selfcare. It was to better his mental health. To ground him. And dream took that form of selfcare and made it punishable to an apaling degree.

No wonder his mental health plummeted so quickly.

Now dont get me wrong. Selfishness is ok UNTIL you hurt other people with it.

But his offense was minor and dream was the whole reason it spiraled in the way it did

By all means tommy shouldnt even have been punished for it!

It probably was the first time someone actually got officially punished for grieving a house and it was an accident!

Im not 100% sure but i think the days after thr 16th his house was griefed prettyuch daily. Drem himself blew up tnt in it not even an hour after techno left lmanberg! In front of everyone! And noone batted an eye!

Tldr: going after the disks was tommys pretty harmless attempt of selfcare after pogtopia and the 16th and dream took that coping mechanism and made it punishable at the highest decree which is just really fucked up.

#dream smp #analysis #i should stop ranting about blockmen at 5am #but there qre... just so many emotions inside of me...

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 3 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: The blacksmith.

Notes: I Love this story but i know yall arent that interested in it which is kinda yikes for me but theres no way im not finishing this fic whether its now or two years from now WC: 7.8k (again im so sorry)

+

By the time you and Ahkmen actually made it out of the pyramid, most of the stars had vanished, and the dawning light of the sun sparked a panic in the Prince's heart. He hurried you back to the shore, picking you up and setting you in the boat before pushing the boat far into the water. Constant glances over your head let him keep an eye on the shore, on the rotating guards at the gates, and where was best to tie the canoe back up.

In the end, he found a spot as far away from the gates as possible, securing the boat before helping you out of the rickety contraption.

"Have you school?"

"Unfortunately," he muttered beneath his breath, adjusting his belt.

With that he took your hand, jogging down the wooden docks until you came to the entrance. He ran through that as well, terrified of anyone recognizing him, and didn't leave enough time for you to think on it long. Ever respectful, he saw you home before sprinting back to the palace by himself, wind burning his eyes all the way up.

For the next couple days he took extra care in his physical health. Learning to calculate the time of day and its' relation to the curvature of the earth, while in the blazing heat of the sun, had not fared well on his sleep-deprived mind. When he returned home that evening, he slept over 12 hours in a dead faceplant on his bed. Upon waking he found Piye looming above him with a knowing expression.

"How much time have you been spending with that Yogi?" They asked in a clearer, less clogged voice than Ahkmen had been able to manage through the amount of beer he'd had recently, paired with how little sleep he had.

"Didn't come home one evening," he grumbled, raising his hand to wipe away the tiredness from his eyes. "Got a lot of sleep last night, though."

"I can see that. Get up. We've got some time yet before the weekend," Piye said with a clap that roused the young Prince.

"Good morning, my Prince," said Naguib, who slipped in through the door. "The Pharaoh's dinner with the emissaries from Ebla is tonight. He wants you there."

"I have other places to be," Ahkmen whined, his shoulders drooping as he looked up.

"So does he," Piye said flatly.

School passed by without him ever seeing you, a fact that disappointed him more than it saddened him. His mood got him into a small verbal bout with one of his teachers, and though Piye tried to hold him back, the school day ended with him in one of the study rooms watching Yafeu argue with his father.

Ahkmen huffed, resting the weight of his head on his open palm balanced on the table in front of him. Yafeu couldn't tell him that he wasn't allowed in the school anymore, but the Priest would do his best to make sure Ahk got the second best punishment.

"I expect more from you, Ahkmen," his father said quietly as they walked side by side back to the palace. "None of your brothers have the skills or the wherewithal to lead a country. That responsibility may fall to you."

"Kamun is the oldest, isn't he?" Ahkmen grumbled. "He's the one who's going to be Pharaoh."

"Nothing is set in certainty, my son. Now then, in a few hours the Eblans will arrive, and a dinner will follow."

"Does that mean I have some free time, then?" Ahk asked with a sudden, bright change in tone.

"I want you to get ready," Merenkahre said, frowning. "Not play around with your friends."

"I'll only be there an hour at most," he said, playing off his own innocence.

The Pharaoh paused in the street to look down at Ahkmen, before letting out a long sigh.

"Very well. One hour."

Ahkmen didn't wait to return to his room––he turned and immediately set back off down the road, dashing and twisting through the crowds that formed the closer he got to the temple of Osiris. He barely looked to see where his hands and feet were as he climbed over the familiar crates, landing back in your alley and ducking back into your home.

To his surprise, Piye was already sitting in your waiting room, their feet set on a high shelf with their butt in a pile of blankets.

"Oh, hello Ah–"

You entered the room with massive goggles on.

"-hhh whhhat's up?" Piye corrected with wide eyes.

"... not much," Ahkmen said slowly. "I have a dinner with my parents in an hour, so I can't stay for long."

"I do need one help," you said as you pulled your goggles off, examining the material in your glove-clad hands. "I need a.. a..."

You snapped your fingers, attempting to recall the name of something. Ahk and Piye waited patiently.

"A kaentam," you muttered before a curse. "It is the rocks that kiss."

Piye stared at you dumbfounded, their mouth half open.

"You mean a magnet?"

"I think, yes," you said, though you didn't look sure. "Panya and her rock are still not... I do not know the type of her rock. I need your 'magnet' for to find the – the name."

"Well it's not exactly easy to find magnets," Ahkmen said slowly, picking at his chin as he thought.

"No, yeah," Piye agreed in the same contemplating tone. "I know they're used in medicine, but it's a... an unconventional treatment. Kind of expensive."

Ahk stared at the ground, continuing to play with the skin of his jaw.

"I think I know where we might find some," Ahk said after a moment.

"What is it?" You asked, stepping nearer.

"Osiris' temple. Priests have areas for medicine, and we already know the layout of the place."

"It's late, though. We're not allowed to enter after sunset," Piye pointed out.

"That's why it's good we know the layout!" Ahk said as he stood. "Now let's go."

"Don't you have a formal dinner in an hour?" Piye asked, watching Ahkmen leave out the door with a quirked brow.

"Let's gooo!" Ahkmen sang from outside.

Anything to distract from the coming responsibilities––anything to earn your favor, to win you over in some fashion he was convinced he hadn't already won you over in. You followed him out with a smile, murmuring a small greeting and thanks before Piye also appeared from behind you.

"And onwards we go, to Osiris, to Osiris," Ahk sung as he scaled the crates, followed by you and Piye in order.

"We have obtained," Piye continued the song with a grunt, "forever and ever, what your Grace will gift us."

"You talk like your heads have nothing in their side," you said, to Ahkmen's great amusement.

As Ahkmen originally suspected, most of the temple's inhabitants were too preoccupied with the evening adulations to notice three children, however strange looking, entering the complex. Ahk entered first, donned in his usual golden fabrics, followed by Piye, who by themselves always looked out of place no matter where they were or what they wore, and then you, a child at Piye's side, dressed in an unfamiliar but royal fashion.

Murmurings and voices could be heard from the tall roof of Osiris' temple, where many of the hour priests gathered to scan the heavens. Already the brightest stars shone through the light of sunset, a fact Ahkmen was quite glad about, since it would keep attention off him.

"Yafeu's room here has many, many supplies," Ahkmen whispered as the three of you crept down the open hallway.

"How do you know that?" Piye asked.

"I was sent there so he could yell at me and he's got bookcases and chests worth of things in there. What a monetary bastard," Ahk said with a tut, chuckling from his own humor.

When he reached the door to Yafeu's office, he slowly turned the lock, letting the wood door swing open with a creak. He motioned Piye in, then you, before following in himself, locking the door behind him.

Although Ahkmen might've been privy to the private belongings of the high priest, you and Piye shared no such knowledge. Piye, who had to bow down slightly due to the height of the ceiling, slowly scanned the room, from the pots to the jars and tapestries hanging from the walls. A reed mat had been set on the floor, keeping away the dirt and sand anyone might drag in.

"Where does he keep his medical supplies?" Piye asked quietly, taking a ginger step forward as they scanned the shelves with their eyes. When they spotted nothing useful, they began to rifle through them with their hands.

"No clue. Let's start, shall we?"

The three of you set to searching the room, categorically searching the different shelves––Piye for the tallest two, Ahk for the middle, and you for the lowest. You tried your best to keep quiet, wary of those who passed by outside the door.

"Why do you need a magnet again?" Ahkmen asked after several minutes of silent searching.

"Panya's rock seems iron in a... clean.. way? It is.. not how you see it in earth, and I don't know it. But your magnet will," you made a motion with your hands of them colliding together, "if I am right."

"You must know quite a lot about metals," Piye said, not bothering to tear away from the work at hand. You and Ahkmen, however, had stopped to look at each other when he spoke.

"My family is... kaghruppakal, moving.. metal, to make into things," you said as you reluctantly returned to the baskets on the bottom shelves.

"Blacksmiths," Piye said.

"Thank you," you said. "My father father's had it learned by the Kings in my home. They give us a good home for years, but they give no... money. So when new King comes, we had no home after."

"What do you mean, new King?" Ahk asked with a confused furrow in his brow.

"It is long and I do not know the how to say in Egyptian, but a man killed the King and stole his name," you said quietly.

"Is that why you left your home?" Ahkmen asked. "There was a revolution?"

"More of a usurping," Piye muttered.

"A little, yes," you said with a nod, before falling quiet.

Ahkmen waited a moment to see if you would say anything else, and a moment to wonder if he would say anything else, but ultimately returned to scavenging through Yafeu's belongings.

Statuette.

More gold bracelets.

Ancient scripture.

"You have to leave for that dinner pretty soon," Piye said in a dull voice.

"I don't need to leave for anything or anyone."

"Ureka!" you suddenly cried, a toothy smile coming to you as you forgot yourself.

Ahkmen and Piye both shushed you, to which you quickly apologized in a much quieter voice.

"I saw them," you said, extending in your hand a pair of magnets stuck to one another.

"Oh thank Gods," Piye said in a rush of breath, their hands immediately falling from the tall shelves. "Let's get back and see if it reacts to your stone."

"No, no, I bring it here," you mumbled distractedly as you dug into your large pockets, pulling out the shiny metal.

He watched in bated breath as you raised the magnets to Panya's stone. The whole of the process meant little to him, but it was part of your job, and he enjoyed partaking in little bits of your life.

This handicapped understanding of your work left him rather confused at your excitement when the magnets stuck to Panya's rock. You gasped, marveling at the reaction. As you moved to your feet, you never looked away, holding it close to your chest.

"Irumpu," you said through your smile. "Iron."

"I'm quite glad you've figured this out, but for the time being, we need to get out of here without being spotted," Ahkmen said, putting his hands on your shoulders before gently moving you aside, and opening the door a crack.

Piye spoke in a mumble with you as he stuck his head outside, the cool air of night filling his lungs, distinct from the stuffy walls of Yafeu's office. There were few people in the courtyard, as most of the priests and workers were still preoccupied with their finishing tasks for the night.

He motioned the two of you over, leading you silently outside. You crept along the wall with quick feet, skipping out of the temple, and running back into your home in a smiling rush.

The rush of adrenaline in his blood soon dissipated, comforted by the familiar shades of red and gold always resting upon your crown. Still staring at the metal, you collapsed down in your cushion pile, moving to hold the ball above your head as you stared. Ahkmen chuckled at your behavior, taking a seat beside you as Piye fell in a similar manner as you did across the room.

"Happy?" Ahk asked teasingly.

"Very," you said. "I must to find who had made it. The old King shows my father father's how to make it, but I never ask. And," you snapped your fingers, "then it is gone. When they go."

"Your grandfather knew how to purify and mold iron?" Piye asked in a low but loud voice, sitting quickly up.

"Yes, and it is good for..." you made a stabbing motion, "things that make people dead."

"Weapons," said Ahkmen.

"Etuvaka. Not many know how it makes, and that is how – why we come here. Makes better money, more than a city. Our city, people know how to," you mimicked squishing and molding things in your empty hands, "do with iron, so it is all every shop. Here, it was my family, only my family."

"That must've been quite the business at the time," Piye said in a softer voice, still low as they contemplated your words.

"We make good money," you said with a nod. "But I know this not. I want... to see.. find the maker. Hear his words."

"You'll probably want to see Panya, then," Ahk said. "It was her who found it, right?"

"I think yes."

"Wonderful. You'll go find her, and I will take him home," Piye said as they stood, gesturing to Ahk with their chin. "Dinner, remember?"

"Has anyone told you how irritating you are?" Ahkmen said, but nonetheless obeyed and stood.

"Your father reminds me every day," Piye responded flatly as the two returned to the palace.

Ahkmen drummed his fingers against the table below him, leaning the weight of his head on his raised knee. His mother had forced him into his royal clothes––the actual royal clothes, not just the expensive ones––and the crown his parents had made him gave him headaches with its' weight. Pure gold was heavy.

Ebla was a trading nation from the north who supplied a small but important type of material rarely found in the desert; wood. That was what Merenkahre and the Eblaite queen spent two hours talking about. Wood. They brought other goods such as rarely-found textiles and handcrafted artifacts as well, but they focused on the wood. It made sense, since that was what Egypt required the most, but it still bored him terribly.

Piye was much luckier by his reckoning. They didn't have to attend duties such as these. All the things they had to do were fun, things like gathering ingredients from the markets or the side of the Nile, going off on quests to defeat mythical beasts.

The young prince huffed, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from tapping his fingers too loudly. Walls of grandeur surrounded him, a good enough difference from your home that he was nearly shocked when he entered his own home, staring up at the towering ceiling. His style was slowly changing, as it usually did, to accommodate new aspects of his life; this had happened before on many occasions, as he suspected it did with many other teenagers his age.

A dream to look at. He would reckon your smile would match against any angelic beauty––anything holy was a common miracle in comparison to the subtle, entrancing magic of your laughter, his hand holding yours as he dragged you, pretending not to notice the racing of his heartbeat. A dream.

He wanted nothing more than to scoop you up and drown you in kisses. In order to avoid his own disappointment at his fantasy not currently being reality, he bit deeper into the inside of his cheek, pressing down harder on his open palm.

Hours later, he stared up at the canopy of his bed, the sheets tossed around his body till most of them hung half of the bed. His breathing was the only noise in the still room.

Until his breathing irritated him so fiercely he sat straight up in a huff, a frown on his forced expression.

"Fucking... thoughts," he muttered to himself, halfheartedly punching one of his pillows.

He could not manage to tear his mind from you. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of you, and adrenaline built in him as he unwillingly imagined your face. Would you mind if he came to see you? It must've been past midnight. You worked during the day. He shouldn't bother you.

Ten minutes later he was fully dressed and sneaking out of the palace, a shroud of cloth concealing his identity as he moved along the shadows. He reckoned Piye, who also slept inside the palace, did not want to see you at this hour, and he left them to sleep.

Ahkmen wasn't sure what he was looking for in returning to you, but as per usual, fantasies spared no expense in the luxurious self-indulgence department, scenes playing behind his eyes of the two of you 'naturally' finding yourselves in intimate situations. Most of it consisted of him finally getting some sleep, this time with you in his arms or wrapped around his waist.

Despite his embarrassment concerning previously mentioned fantasies, they did inspire him to move faster, and before he knew it he found himself standing in front of your tent, hesitating for the first time.

Again his doubts plagued him. He comforted himself with the fact that he had come all this way, and it seemed a rather foolish idea to give it up now.

With that he entered, his eyes immediately falling to the one candle lit in the shadowed room. The usual rushlights set about the entrance room––where he and his friends usually sat about and did nothing––had disappeared, leaving much of the folds of cloths in shadows that casted stark against the single flame.

"Yogi?" Ahk said in a much quieter voice than required.

The sound of rustling blankets had his heart sinking in his chest. He had hoped, at least, that he wouldn't bother you from your sleep––most of him believed you would be up all night working.

"Aganu?" You murmured softly, high and quiet with the sleep pulling at your lips.

"Uh, yes," he said, trying to peek behind the curtain separating your bedroom front your shop. "I'm sorry to disturb you so late. I thought you'd be up, I – I can leave."

"No, no," you mumbled. "Is good. Come here."

He gulped, gingerly stepping forward and pulling away the cloth door. Behind it, you lay in a pocket of space built into your fabric wall, drowning you in luxurious blankets of red and gold. All that remained visible was your eyes, an adoring sight in his mind.

"Why've you got that light in the other room?" Ahk asked quietly, kneeling down in front of you.

"More not strong. It is very red," you said, poking your finger out to gesture to the room as a whole. "Good for night sleeping. Why are you coming here?"

"You mean your house or your bed?" Ahk said, stepping away as he became aware of his closeness to you.

"My house."

"Couldn't sleep," he said with a shrug. "Thought you might be able to help."

"Why?" You asked, before backtracking. "Wait, that is not the word I mean. Um... how do you want help?"

"I don't know. Maybe you have a potion, or just a better bed than I do," he said, chuckling.

"I have both."

"Hey, you haven't even felt my bed," he said in a teasing manner. "How do you already know your bed's better?"

"Because it is not hard."

Fair enough point––Egyptian beds were essentially a table built for the purpose of sleeping. Good for the hot weather, bad for the joints.

"I don't want to disturb you, though," he said quietly as you began to rise, sheets and thick blankets falling from your shoulders to reveal the naked expanse of your chest and stomach. He gulped, though fortunately not audible, as you stretched your hands up.

"It is no problem," you said, sighing deeply as your arms fell.

Rooting around in your bed, you found a large but thin blanket, wrapping it around your body before you left your comforts. You yawned as you stood, but faithfully wandered to your potion storage. Ahkmen had never seen any of your potions, as he didn't believe a hangover cure counted as one, and thus he looked eagerly over your shoulder when you knelt down. Glass and pottery clinked together as you searched.

"What kind of potions do you make?" Ahk asked, stepping back when you once more rose to your feet.

"To help bodies," you said, gesturing to your own body, "and soul." You tapped your heart.

He frowned. Obviously.

"Do you have like, a love potion?"

"Why you ask that?"

"Just curious," he said quickly.

"I have... khamam potion. You make a man drink it and they will.. have..." you trailed off, unable to explain fully. "Love to you? When they make the children."

"Sex?"

"Sure. They do the sex. Man or woman," you said with a dismissive wave of your hand.

"How do you make a potion like that?"

"You think I give it with no paying? I must make money, Aganu," you chuckled softly, bopping his nose with your finger, before sobering to speak. "This is a potion that will make you calm. Ready for sleep, yes."

"Oh, thank you," Ahkmen said, taking the small, clay bottle. "How much do I owe you?"

"Speak more about the sky."

He quirked a brow.

"That's your price?"

"I want to know more. I go to school to clean, not hear, but I want to," you said, taking his hands in your cloth-covered hands, and staring upwards. "I am alive to see and hear and I want to hear you."

You couldn't be aware of the effect of your words. Not with eyes that innocent. But, as usual, his heart raced painfully in his chest, overflown with an affection he had no choice but to hold back.

"... very well," he murmured, and led you back to your bed. You crawled in, surrounding yourself in blankets once more as Ahk sat on the floor, carefully watching your sleepy, fluttering eyes.

"The sky––well, more specifically the night sky, is a woman. Her name is Nuit. At sunset, her head in the west consumes Ra, and in the morning, she births him again. Her eyes are the sun and moon. Her lover, Geb, is the earth, but they are forever forced apart by Ra, who placed their father to separate them," Ahk said, reciting information he had long known. "His name is Shu. He is the air that lets us breathe."

"Why did Ra want them apart?" You asked quietly, muffled behind your blankets.

"Nuit became pregnant by Geb. Ra found it an abomination, cursed her to never give birth on any day of the year. But Thoth helped her––won a few games of Senet against Khonsu, god of time, and earned her five days in which she gave birth to five children."

"Who?"

"Osiris on the first day. That's his temple you work at. Then I believe it was.. Horus.. Seth, Isis, and her sister, Nephthys." He paused to yawn. "Those are the epagomenal days, at the end of the year. Pretty big celebration."

"I like to see this," you mumbled.

"I'll take you this next year," he said. "There's plenty of food and beer for everyone."

Your breathing was beginning to slow, and when Ahk noticed that, he fell into silence. Instead he stared at your closed eyes, your cheek squished into your pillow. Too much to look at. The better half of him yearned to reach out and touch you, but the remaining bits of his conscious reminded him that that was, beyond anything, an incredibly strange thing to do.

He was even more grateful for his decision to remain still when your eyes opened on an inhale, blinking slowly as you met his gaze.

"Tired?" You asked. "Potion does not takes long."

He chuckled, "yeah. I'm pretty tired now."

"What time does it take to walk to your house?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe thirty minutes."

"You are.. you will fall by then," you murmured.

"Asleep?"

"Yes. It is a strong potion."

You paused, scanning his body and its' position near you.

"Remain here," you said, soft as the silk you drowned yourself in. "For the night."

The rope around his heart tightened at your request. His imagination, somehow, had come to fruition.

"Where will I sleep?" He asked, fighting back another yawn.

"All places. Do what you want," you sighed. "Or you fall sleep in the street."

"Very funny. Scoot over."

You glared up at him, but eventually gave in, scooting closer to the wall to make room for him. He pulled his jewelry off him before sidling in, hoping to avoid hurting you accidentally.

When he turned to face you, he found his forehead crowning you, his nose just barely brushing against yours.

"Thanks," he murmured. "You didn't have to."

"I know," you whispered in a breath, closing your eyes.

Only a few hours later he was awakened by something prodding at his face. His eyes fluttered open, blearily finding Piye above him, poking his cheek with a fireplace fork. Ahkmen groaned, turning over on his side.

"Don't you ignore me, you royal pain," Piye said, prodding him harder yet. "Do you know how many lies I had to tell to your father?"

"Piye, it's way too early in the morning for this," he said groggily, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"It's midday!"

"I got here late," Ahkmen said as he slowly fell out of the bed, sliding onto the floor.

Piye grasped the top of Ahk's head by his hair, lifting his face and kneeling to meet him.

"I swear to the Gods if you had sex with a ci–"

"I did not," Ahk hissed, wriggling till Piye's grip loosened.

Reluctantly, Ahkmen rose to his feet, brushing the wrinkles out of his clothes and pulling your blankets off the floor, placing them back on the bed. The lumps in the cloth suggested your presence, but as he pulled them away he found the rest of the bed empty. He stepped back in surprise.

Piye looked over his shoulder, frowning as they, too, saw your absence.

"Isn't this Yogi's bed?"

"It was last night," Ahk said.

"I am here," you said from behind. Ahk whirled around, coming face to face with you struggling to pull on a large, ornate coat.

"Oh. What are you doing?" Ahk asked with a frown.

"I am placing my coat."

"We can see that," Piye said flatly. "It's hot outside. Why do you need it."

"Pockets," you said, opening your jacket to reveal a plethora of pockets sewn into the inner seams. "I do go to market now. I will see for the man that had made this."

You reached into one of your pockets, pulling out the block of pure iron some blacksmith had thrown away.

"Will I go to Panya? If she wants to?" You asked, pocketing the metal once more.

"Probably should," Ahk said with a yawn, stretching his hands high enough that they raised the cloth ceiling. Piye nodded in agreement.

"She likes to stay in control," Piye added.

"I can help you get there," Ahk offered expectantly.

"Oh! Thanks many," you said, grinning wide. "I do not know to find her."

"I better come too," said Piye, who crossed their arms. "He always seems to get into trouble without me there."

"You say that as though I don't get into trouble when you're with me, too," Ahk chuckled.

"I'm not in the mood today, Ahk," Piye whispered, gripping Ahk's upper arm tight enough to leave temporary marks.

"Then don't come along," Ahk whispered back. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

Piye glared at him but said nothing, walking swiftly out the door and closing the flap behind them. It left Ahkmen once more alone with you, awkwardly shuffling his feet as you prepared yourself, carefuly to remember all your tools.

"Thank you, again," Ahkmen said after a moment of silence. "For letting me sleep here."

"Yes, yes. Go now."

You pushed him out the door, following as you fixed the tassels of your pants. Thin ropes flipped every which way till you knotted them, tightening around your waist, before you set off towards the common streets. Ahkmen followed, though he couldn't see where Piye had gone.

Murmuring conversations surrounded him, circled by flocks of people heading towards Osiris' temple. Shoulders and feet pushed on him, shoving him about as he headed in the opposite direction, always searching for your scarlet red robes. They set you quite wide apart from the usual crowd, and thus the Prince used them as an identifier.

People cast looks in his direction as he continued to shove and push, a constant stream of shaky apologies tumbling from his mouth. He considered himself adept at moving through crowds, but he had clearly not gotten as much practice as you did, which combined with your smaller size, led you to stop far ahead to wait for him.

He panted as he reached you, pausing with a heavy chest.

"Feel you good?" You asked, quirking a brow.

"I don't do well when I haven't eaten in the morning," he said, his voice cracking as he bent over slightly, his hands on his knees.

"Funny Egyptian man," you laughed, reaching up to ruffle his already messy hair. "You are... too full of money."

"I wouldn't doubt that," he muttered, recalling the many luxuries his father had given him throughout his life.

"I buy your food, we will go," you said as you returned to walking, slow to allow him time to catch up.

"Oh, don't worry about that," he said, waving his hand dismissively as he rose to follow you. "I can pay for it. Don't waste your money."

"Right?"

"... yes," he said, after having given up on trying to decode what exactly you'd meant.

As the two of you entered the main streets of the city, the conversations of strangers grew louder, more densely packed between houses and stalls full of goods. Through the street you now walked down, there must've been at least five different spice carts. Careful mountains of cumin and ginger were placed in the corner of nearly every stop.

Near the end, he found a small stall of a woman selling beer. He reached for you, pausing your step as he dug into his own pocket, pulling out a silver ring.

"One cup, please," he asked, to which the lady politely acquiesced. He set the ring down on her counter. "Will this do?"

"... one more than that," she said, her gaze flickering from the ring to Ahk's eyes.

He pulled out another ring, and with that she handed him the cup, taking the rings simultaneously.

"Have a good day!" She said as the two of you left.

Ahkmen sipped at his drink with a satisfied sigh, relaxing into the sweet, familiar taste. Your drinks were good, but far too alcoholic to be worth any sustenance.

"I want a little," you said, moving on your toes so as to see inside his cup.

"Sure," he said, and handed it to you. You returned it after a couple swallows.

"We look for Panya, yes?" You asked.

"Oh, right. I'll take you to her house."

Panya didn't live far away from the center of town, so in a matter of minutes you were already knocking on her door. What you didn't expect, however, was for the High Priest of Osiris' temple to answer it.

He eyed you up and down, your odd way of dress, the dot on your forehead, before his gaze fell to Ahkmen. It was then his eyes narrowed, coldly recognizing the prince.

"What do you want," he said, leering down at you.

"Your daughter," said Ahk, who was leant against one of the pillars outside Panya's mansion of a house.

"You may not have her."

"I –"

Before Ahk could finish, something tugged on the inside of his arm, pulling him away from the doorstep. You didn't seem to notice, busy conversing with Yafeu. He turned round, stumbling with broken balance before he looked up, meeting Piye's eye.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, glancing back to you and the priest.

"I've been thinking," Piye murmured, leaning down to lessen the space between them, "I don't think we should go around the markets just talking about a purified iron. I think it might land you in trouble."

"Why?" He scoffed.

"I’ve been at all my father’s meetings with the Pharaoh and his generals and they’re talking about iron. How to get it, how to use it, how to control it, everything,” they said.

“Well why’s that a problem? They did the same thing with wood.”

"Not like this! Iron, it – it's incredibly strong. If we had armor made of that, shields made of it, weapons made of it, it'd give us an enormous amount of military power, and with your father in rule, I don't think that's a good idea," they said in a growing volume before they remembered Yafeu was there, and quieted down again.

"What's wrong with my father?!" Ahk gasped.

"Nothing!" Piye hissed, eyes darting back up to Yafeu to see if he had noticed. "He just has a habit of oppressing people!"

Ahkmen snorted. His hand shot up to cover his mouth, quiet giggles wracking his body.

"I'm sorry," he wheezed, "that shouldn't be funny. Sorry."

"It's fine," Piye said with a long sigh. "You know what I mean. If word gets to him that this little immigrant over here has a key to finding how to shape iron, he isn't going to take a visit and credit them with the discovery. He's going to deport them, cover it up, and claim he learned it from the Gods. You know everything’s a game to him."

Ahkmen's breath caught in his throat as Piye laid out the consequences in plain, simple terms he could understand. That would be the end of your friendship, but more importantly, it was also the end of your livelihood. You were still young––around his age––and you didn't know much else except living in Egypt. If he were to take your word, your home to the east was far, far away, and ruled by an unjust dictator. You would not make the journey there alone, let alone when you actually reached your city.

"What do you suppose we do?" Ahkmen said after a minute or two of deep thought.

"I think –"

"We can go here," you said, passing by them with Panya and, unsurprisingly, Unas bringing up the rear.

"Wait –"

He went to stop you, but Piye stopped him first.

"Best you don't tell them. We're not from the palace, remember?" Piye muttered, before promptly following you off the steps of Panya's house. Ahkmen, however disgruntled as he was, followed as well.

"I wish I was poor," he grumbled, walking alongside Piye, who kept a fair enough distance from you and your customers.

Piye struck him with a flat palm against the back of his head. The weight in his neck rolled forward, kinking it awkwardly, to which he let out a yelp of pain.

"Don't say that. Others in your country, in this city, starve. They would give anything to be you."

His frown drew tighter, irritant clogging his thoughts. Every inconvenience angering. He breathed deeply, willing the feeling away, and sped his pace to catch up to you. Panya might've been up there, but her presence would be a small price for yours.

The markets approached faster than he realized, and soon he was once more surrounded by strangers bartering and advertising. Thin tarps of orange and dusty yellow spread from one side of the thin street to the other, sheltering merchants from the hot sun, and allowing them to hang different products on the lines. He ducked under rings of cloth and over piles of incense, shakily following your wavy trail through the walkway.

Heat began to redden his cheeks, and it was then he realized that you'd made it to the blacksmith area of market, near to the kitchens. Fire stoking bread and metal filled the open air, made much clearer by the absence of the shading tarps.

"Uh, Yogi," he said, grabbing your shoulder to stop you before you could enter. "I think we should keep on the down-low, this purified iron, people might start talking."

You looked him up and down.

"Okay," you said, turning back round to enter the shop.

It took until evening before you made any progress. Most everyone you met was skeptical of you, which wasn't surprising considering the size and age of your group. But the last man you came to was still working, even as everyone around him ate dinner, readying to leave for home or staying for music.

He had long hair––longer than Piye's, trailing down to his mid-thigh. Unlike theirs, his was black, and much stringier in comparison. The knotted rope used to hold his hair back as he worked was crude at best, and one he had to constantly fix. Ahkmen didn't see it, but you noticed he was much skinnier than most of the other blacksmiths, who had grown muscles over the years of their work.

You approached him much like you approached everyone; a bright, commercial cheerfulness that came across as dangerously fake. To those who had spent good time in the markets, it was easy to see through. Those who hadn't, however, couldn't quite decode why you were unsettling, other than you being foreign.

"What did you say this was for again?" The man asked, his voice a quiet, low rasp. He had seated himself amongst your menagerie, matching the height of Piye, who was of course the tallest member.

"We are trying to find the owner of an amulet," Panya lied smoothly, pulling off one of her many necklaces and handing it to the man. "Or rather, the maker."

He took the necklace with skinny fingers, twisting it round in them as he surveyed the whole of it.

"Gold, ruby.. copper," he muttered, pointing to each of the different beads as though you could understand him mumbling. "Silver?"

Panya gestured for the amulet back, which he gave, and she strung it back around her neck.

"Iron. It's the purest we've ever seen and we're looking for the source," she said, pointing to the rest of the group.

"The durability is incredible. I would love to have access to that kind of things in my buildings and such," Unas added.

"I know," the blacksmith said, his hair still drooping long in front of his face. "I have been searching for a way to purify the ore, but I cannot get my fires hot enough. I keep getting... what might be iron, but it never looks right. Then again, I – I don't know what the correct product would look like."

Well then, Ahk thought, that explains why it was in the junkyard.

You leant over to Ahk, moving to your knees so your lips met his ear as you whispered.

"Can I show him what we found now?"

"Um.." his eyes darted over to Piye, who was listening intently to the man's woes, "sure."

Tapping on the blacksmith's shoulder, you brought his attention to you and the heavy malformed metal in your hand. His eyes widened, near imperceptive behind all his hair, but certainly filled with shock.

"Is that my...?"

"It is iron," you said with a grin. "I live in a city where lots of iron everywhere. Here, not so much, but that is iron."

"Unas found it in the junkyard in the southern part of Memphis," Panya said, pointing a thumb to her friend.

"Shit," the man breathed out, combing a hand through his hair. "I don't know which one that was."

"Which what?" Ahkmen asked.

"Which heat level," Unas answered for him. "It takes a specific amount to actually purify different ores. Otherwise you might burn it into a charcoal."

"And the all other rocks and," you motioned grinding your fist into the palm of your other hand, "the rocks you smash until they are sand."

"Powder," Ahk said.

"Yes. I see, when I was 5, my father has powder in his furnace, in the iron," you said with a variety of questionable hand motions. "Red, and... a bright black. Shiny."

Ahkmen listened intently for the next hour and a half as you, Unas, and the blacksmith conversed about smelting techniques. Apparently, all of you had, at one point, attempted to smelt iron out of the ore, a fact that was made appalling because Egypt didn't have any iron. Most of the iron within the country was either imported or from the meteor, which was confined to only serving the royal family.

Even Piye eventually tired of the conversation that never seemed to stray from smelting, though you did for a short time discuss techniques for copper. Piye had an incredible sense of patience, so when they tapped Ahk to tell him they were leaving, Ahk realized he usually would've left ten minutes into the conversation.

It clicked quite quickly that he wasn't really listening––he was watching you, and that had somehow occupied him for a full hour and a half. A creeping sense of embarrassment had him hunching his shoulders.

"Unas, we should go, we have that thing in the morning," Panya murmured into Unas' ear, though Ahkmen still caught it.

"Oh, right," he said in a deflated tone. He stood, brushing off his skirt before facing the blacksmith. "Thank you for your time. Is it alright if I come back sometime? Might be better to have more than one person working on this."

"How old are you?" The blacksmith asked in his usual mumble.

"16."

"... okay," he said after a moment. "You're old enough."

"Oh, good. Well thank you, anyway," Unas said, before motioning to Panya to leave. He bowed his head slightly as he left the circle of conversation, following his friend back into the markets.

As she left, Panya turned to walk backwards, holding her hands out to you. You quickly caught her drift, and threw the ball to her. She thanked you from a distance.

"We should leave soon as well," Ahk whispered to you.

A few minutes later, the two of you were once more walking side by side, wandering down the now-vacant streets. Ahkmen had no idea where you were going, but was along for the ride no matter where you ended up. As you hastened your step, you took Ahk's hand, forcing him to match your pace with a giddy laugh.

"The night is clear," you said, walking backwards to face him without halting your step. "You will show me the star shapes, yes?"

"The constellations," he said with a soft chuckle, his body filling with a warm, lighthearted haze. "Of course."

You led him back towards your home but ignored the alleyway entrance, instead reaching the doors of Osiris' temple. The tall walls marked themselves steep against your small stature, casting long shadows in the moonlight, that tonight shone like a shell of the sun. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died stillborn as you tugged him into you. His chest met yours as he stumbled clumsily.

"Be safe, funny man," you giggled, looking down at him as his head's weight rested awkwardly in the crook of your neck.

What little citylights remained in the dead of night faded away as you scaled the tower, your neck craned upwards to the heavens. No matter how tall the roof of the temple was, no matter how high you climbed, the stars never seemed to move any closer. Their distance must've been incomprehensible, but inconsequential when grasping Ahk's hand to help him onto the roof.

He panted softly as he stood on his feet once more, brushing off the dust that came from the temple walls. You left him to wander to the center of the stone plateau. His breathing slowed, attention centering on you as your eyes still stared up into empty space.

You turned, noticing the heat of his gaze.

"Speak to me," you said in a voice that moved like music. "You tell on Sopdet, yes? And.. Sah. Nuit and Geb."

"Lie down with me," he said.

You dutifully obeyed, sliding down next to him, your clothes and hair splayed out.

For a good hour he pointed up, tracing the outlines of constellations he had studied all his life. Since you didn't know their shapes on paper, he drew the images in the dirt and sand collected on the roof, showing you how random collections of dots made up women and beautiful creatures, the everlasting Gods in the sky.

"I want to be... something beautiful," he murmured, looking down at his own shoddy illustrations. "Like the stars."

"You had say that when you will die, you will go to the stars, right?" You asked softly.

"In death," he said with a small nod. "I will not be able to see this earth. I will be one amongst millions. It's strange, but... I wish I could stay here forever. A star close to home."

"You are scared of being nothing," you said. "But we are nothing. We are nothing to birds, or to other cities. We are already nothing and everything. It is what you choose to make of you––make more of your everything, or sleep in your nothing. There is happy things in both."

"No time wasted in happiness is truly time wasted?" He said, remembering a familiar anecdote from school.

"Yes," you said with a smile.

Silence filled the space for a few minutes, stilled by the slow breathing of Ahk's chest. He closed his eyes, exhaustion tugging at him, all of which he ignored.

"Aganu?" You said, nearly whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I like my hours with you," you murmured, wide, warm eyes staring bashfully at him.

"I do too."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

[troddensodden]

what i immediately think of you based on your favorite fallout 4 companion:

or maybe a better title would have been what i think based on the companion you relate to the most? im not sure that just doesnt have a good ring to it

anyway

- cait: you come across as a violent, or generally brash person, but are good at heart. your violence or harsh tendencies likely have a reason behind them. you probably had something in your past where people who you trusted ended up betraying you, or someone you idolized turned out to be someone completely different. and this had an impact on you, causing you to protect yourself in the easiest way you know—pushing people away. because if you don't have anyone important to you, then you can't go through the same thing again. (or you just like her accent. valid.) just remember, even if some people have hurt you, not everyone will. there are people who care. just let them in. don't be afraid to be vulnerable, that shows that you're truly strong.

- codsworth: you're a pretty sentimental person and struggle to leave the past behind. which, while sweet, may get in your way sometimes. but generally you are a nice person. you like to help people out, but the main source of pleasure you gain from that is the satisfaction of knowing you helped someone, rather than the happiness of just knowing that person was helped. your sentimentality likely originates from some sort of loss, whether big or small. remember, you have people in your corner. you can rely on them.

- curie: either you're into science or philosophy, or you like accents. but most likely you're a pretty sweet person. you like to help people, but it probably ends up being self-sacrificial quite often even if you don't realize it. take care of yourself!! you're important too, the satisfaction of helping other people wont be enough to help you in the long run, and you need to acknowledge that. you probably help people and use that as a scapegoat for someone you weren't able to help well enough, whether that person is you or someone else, and end up overlooking your own needs. prioritize yourself first, allow yourself to be the most important person in your life.

- paladin danse: either you like the military, or you only played the brotherhood storyline so you could have him. also, you probably have some deep-rooted insecurity based in everyone seeing you as different and judging you for it, but you don't do anything to counter it and end up avoiding people as a whole because of it. you may think of other people as too much effort, or too confusing, or generally just not worth it when there are more important things to be done. you look up to those stronger than you, and look down on those weaker than you, and use that to shape yourself. you end up leaving the real you behind, so that maybe other people will think you're just as strong as the people you admire. but you don't have to be strong all the time. its okay.

- deacon: you're secretive. not because you necessarily have anything to hide, but to protect yourself. you may have opened up to someone in the past and then lost them, or been betrayed, and now find it difficult to be honest about yourself. opening up about yourself to anyone is a sign of great trust, and something that doesn't happen often, so you have a hard time doing it at all, but especially after being hurt because of it. you keep your heart close to your chest, and hide it behind humor and lies, because at least you don't have to be honest when you're cracking jokes. a lot of these jokes are probably pretty self-deprecating, a way of venting your struggle without having to truly bare yourself to anybody. but you don't have to lie to keep people around. people will love you just as much if you're true to yourself.

- dogmeat: you're a bit of a lone wolf. whether it's for a serious reason or just a dislike for people, you find it much simpler to be by yourself. you may have trouble trusting people, or even just issues working with people because of conflict. but as much as it may seem easier to just avoid people as a whole, you cant do that forever. if you let people in, and you trust them, they'll trust you too. it will help you out in the long run. (or hey! maybe you just like dogs. thats valid.)

- hancock: you're a very accepting person. you let people open up to you, make yourself a safe space for anyone who might need it. but you don't open yourself up to others, out of fear that maybe they'll see your flaws and leave you. as accepting as you are, you struggle to accept parts of yourself, and assume others wont be able to either. you struggle to think you're good enough, and so instead you make yourself a blank slate in a way, for people to interpret however they want. you disregard yourself, your personality, your past, and try to start anew without actually resolving any of your history. which may work fine for a while, but eventually it will stack up. it never left, you just tucked it away. you need to confront your past before working on the future. accept yourself and others will too.

- maccready: you're also quite a sentimental person, but in another way. you can't leave the past behind, because it changed you. you want things to go back to the way they were, so you can maybe change the way things went, change the things you did, but you can't. furthermore, you find the world immensely unfair, and it is. and as much as you may wish things were different, they arent, and theres nothing you can do now to fix it. whether you want to forget or not, the memories stick with you, and continuously remind you what you "could have done," even if you couldn't truly have changed the outcome. forgive yourself. its okay to remember, but it's not okay to dwell on the past and keep hurting yourself over it. the past happened, but the future is still being built. live your life.

- nick valentine: you're a very giving person, and enjoy helping people. however, you can hold a grudge. whether you or someone important to you was wronged, you won't forget about it until it has been resolved. depending on the severity, a well-done apology can satiate you, but if they did something serious, you won't rest until they get what you think they deserve. not necessarily in a violent sense, but in a general manner. you recognize that the world is corrupt and unfair, and see it as your role to try to bring about some fairness in the world, but sometimes end up stretching yourself too thin. be careful. it's good to care so much about others, but be sure to care for yourself too.

- piper: you likely had to grow up too fast, because of something that happened in your past. because of that, you struggle to truly let loose. you refuse to rely on other people and insist on being self-sufficient, but you also insist on trying to take care of others too, which builds up a lot of stress that you never really learned how to relieve. so instead of taking care of your stress, you absorb yourself in work. additionally, you're very headstrong, and while being persistent is a good thing, it comes back to bite you once in a while. so make sure to be cautious. you need to protect yourself, but you don't need to always be on guard. relax, let loose. you're still young and have life ahead of you.

- preston: you've been at the lowest point in your life and back up again. this low point, though, changed you. the way you thought, the way you acted, the way you cared for people. it changed you, positively and negatively. you've seen and experienced a lot of struggle, and that made you stronger, but it also made you afraid. not afraid of getting hurt, but afraid of not being able to protect those you care about from the strife that you've seen cause the downfall of so many people. you see it as your role to protect people, as something that brings you purpose. you've probably felt that way for a long time though. someone you admired may have gotten hurt and you weren't able to protect them, and you try to make up for it by protecting everyone else. but it's not your responsibility to protect everyone. it's not your fault if you can't. protect yourself first, and find self-worth outside of your work. focus out the present, and everything else will fall into place. its okay to take a break.

- strong: you prioritize yourself over others, to the point where you may end up disregarding other peoples thoughts or feelings because you think yours are more "important." because of this, you are generally a bit judgmental and only think something is worthwhile if it will benefit you. this may originate from some sort of neglect or similar treatment in the past, where you were forces to be self-sufficient. but it is important to be able to prioritize yourself while still being kind to other people. you look down on people who you think are weak, because you were forced to be strong enough to protect yourself. but you should allow yourself to listen to other people, because they'll care about you if you care too. relationships are valuable and important, even if you have only a few of them. be more open to other people, it won't hurt you.

- x6-88: similarly, you may feel a sense of superiority over some people. however, this is likely because you were frequently admired and praised for not showing vulnerability, whether in a physical or emotional sense. you may tend to repress your emotions, out of convenience or fear of having them used against you, which ends up affecting you negatively in the long run for a variety of reasons. for one, emotions will build up, causing stress and general struggle. but also, refusing to open up can harm interpersonal relationships, causing issues with trust, honesty, and more. you may feel relationships aren't worth it, but having people in your corner in a way that's mutually beneficial is very important. vulnerability is a sign of strength, but you were likely taught the opposite, and it's hard to shake something so deeply ingrained. it's a process, but it's worth it. allow yourself to be vulnerable, allow yourself to be protected. you won't disappoint people, it's alright.

#also disclaimer #i wrote this at like midnight so if its messy or inaccurate theres my excuse #another disclaimer i havent ever used some of these companions this is all just based on what i know about them #and for others i was just projecting a lot so sorry if its inaccurate #fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout companions

[phanlight]

Imagine Living Like A King Someday

prompt: Southview Boarding School isn’t a castle and Phil Lester isn’t royalty, but he has everything. His father owns the school, he’s popular, has the best room, gets all the best treatment – there are very few things that aren’t handed to him on a platter. Dan is a cleaner/Phil’s personal maid there, and he isn’t as lucky. Everyone seems to take an aversion to the outsider, including Phil (at first).

[CHAPTER MASTERPOST]

theres something so funny to me abt having written all of this over a matter of months and then picking it up 4 entire years later like nothing happened

still thinking of the enormous steaming mess past left future me to clear up in terms of plot but i think we're finally there THANKS 2016 SHELLEY

[AO3 LINK]

Twenty-Three (fINALLY)

By far the best thing about this job, Dan decides, is the Thursday afternoons. They allow for a lull in the week, a window wherein Phil is enveloped in a research project and Noah equally as swallowed up in rehearsals. December being only a breath away had made for a sudden increase in workload for both of them; it seems leaving the holiday season for an actual holiday is far too big an ask for the education system. Dan feels sorry for them. He remembers his burning resentment toward academic responsibilities; how much he’d loathed being made to study while the sky loses its light. He’d taken pity on the pair of them and stocked up on various study supplies – all edible and a few drinkable, much to their delight. He’d left them with all the Kit-Kats, Doritos and Jaffa Cakes they’d possibly be able to cram into a four-hour session. He’s becoming something of a mother figure, he giggles when he tells Lawrence.

There’s something about conversations with someone as wise as the head caretaker, the nicest boss he’s ever had, that jolts everything back into perspective again. Sometimes, when anxiety gnaws and every breath feels uneasy, the only thing that helps is a few words of wisdom. Of true compassion. And as caring and as gentle as Phil is, sometimes it’s worth listening to someone over triple his age; with triple his life experience.

And way over triple his collection of mugs. They stand in rows in a cabinet next to the desk, a glass door keeping them on proud display (there’s no way he doesn’t polish that regularly). He can’t count the teas they’ve had together, but he’s never had the same mug twice. It makes the overall experience just that little bit more enjoyable; a guaranteed smile no matter how bleak the day.

“Wallace, or Gromit?” is the first thing Lawrence says when Dan creaks open the door.

He frowns. Bit of an odd way to say hello, but he’s had weirder.

“Sorry?”

“If you had to pick?”

Dan chuckles, his frown melting away. Months of this place has made him warmly familiar with Lawrence’s eccentricities and quick-fire questions upon entering. The only one who works here with a personality, Phil often calls him, before quickly adding Below fifty, of course.

“Gromit,” he says decidedly. “He’s cute.”

“Gromit it is,” he whips around, presenting Dan with a steaming ceramic version of the dog, his left ear protruding into a handle.

“How did I not see that coming?” Dan chuckles, taking the mug and nearly burning his fingertips. “Thanks,” he sips a little too quickly. “Let me guess; you have a Wallace one too?”

“A-ha!” Lawrence spins around again holding with an identically sized mug, the other character still grinning despite having a head full of boiling hot liquid.

“You never cease to amaze me,” Dan grins, shaking his head in disbelief. He plops himself down on Lawrence’s enormous armchair, shifting a jacket off of the seat. Despite his repeated insistence that he really doesn’t mind and the stool looks really comfy, actually; Lawrence insists he takes his chair every single time he comes over.

‘It’s just lovely to have a chat with you, kid,’ he’d say. ‘I don’t get many visitors.’

The whole thing swamps Dan’s small frame, the upholstery devouring most of him, but the comfort is unbeatable. He could fall asleep here.

“Look at his nose! His- look at that! Hey- you’re missing it!”

Dan’s eyes dart around the room. “Wait- what?”

“The mug!” he urges.

Dan frowns, peering at the steaming Wallace. His grin looks like the taste of Brie.

“It’s-…” he squints. “Big?”

“Not mine you daft thing- yours!” he points.

“Mine?” Dan looks down. Gromit stares forward, his black button now a cherry red. “Oh!��

“Clever, that, ain’t it?” Lawrence enthuses, his eyes shimmering. “Must be a heat detector! I don’t know how they do it, these things,” he beams. “It’s like they’re finding something new every day.”

Dan’s heart glows. It would come as no surprise if he’d been waiting all week to show him that.

“I’ll keep an eye out for it next time,” Dan smiles, looking down. “I used to have a Pac-Man mug that did a similar thing, actually.”

“Pac-Man, eh?” Lawrence says as if it’s the eleventh Grand Theft Auto. “What used to happen? Did he do his little routine?”

“Not quite,” Dan giggles, assuming his ‘little routine’ constituted flying around a maze uncontrollably. “The ghosts just appeared. Nothing moved, though.”

“That’ll be the next step, I tell you,” Lawrence says. “Goodness knows what they’ll be able to do even one year from now. Come next Christmas you’ll be buying me a mug that can sing.”

Dan’s grin doesn’t stop. How someone so many times his age can still bear such child-like enthusiasm for the small things really is something treasurable. The gem of Southview, he decides as he takes another sip and studies the bottle opener collection beside him. Lawrence makes this job bearable. Worthwhile.

He doesn’t tell him such mugs actually exist; doesn’t let on the Cherusker stein is a particular favourite of his. The cabinet full of them was in fact possibly the only tolerable aspect of the May Fair experience; – he’d forever spend lounge duty dusting them, lifting every one and smiling as gentle lullabies spilled out until barked at to ‘stop wasting time’. He makes a mental note to make another addition to his Christmas shopping list. He’s certain Lawrence is aware of their existence, but he’s sure he wouldn’t be expecting to unwrap one only three weeks from now. Seeing those eyes crinkle with joy under years of laughter lines is a gift in itself.

He only realizes he’s smiling when Lawrence matches his grin.

“You’re at a funny age,” he sighs, clinking the spoon against the china. He places it on an Abbey Road coaster. “That’s what my mother used to say,” he pauses, forehead lined with thought. “Mind you, she’s been saying that at every age I’ve been,” there’s a silence. “Even now.”

Dan grins, imagining a woman twenty-odd years older but about a metre shorter. It warms his heart to hear she’s still with him, with them. Here.

“What does that say, eh?” he continues. “There’s never an age you’re going to look back and everything around you will have fallen into place. Never a moment you’ll dust off your hands and think ‘well, that was easy’. Because that isn’t life.”

The final sentence resounds all around the hemisphere of his consciousness. What absolute truth there is to be found in that.

This is precisely what he loves about his conversations with Lawrence. It isn’t just the tea. Not even the comfort both physical and emotional alike; the guarantee that whatever he confesses to doing won’t go any further than the office walls. It isn’t even the advice- which he’d go so far as to admit is more beneficial than Phil’s, at certain times (there’s just something about hearing it from someone who’s double their combined age).

It’s the lack of judgement. The listening ear. The only person he can truly guarantee is without a single trace of bias or underlying ulterior motive. The ‘I’ve experienced, lived, truly knocked down but bounced back every time’ tone that resonates through every pebble of advice, each wise word he gifts away.

And he feels safe, talking to him. He feels comfortable. It’s everything every single past job wasn’t, and even now, when Dan drags a scalding sip to his lips and listens to Lawrence’s stories, his pellets of wisdom and anecdote after anecdote involving life in the Sixties, he realizes he’s truly safe here. Happy, almost.

“How old is she? Your mother?” The question escapes his lips before he can exercise any control over what he’s asking. Shit, he hopes that wasn’t too personal. Not a lot of things are off-limits when it comes to conversations with Lawrence, but boundaries are still unclear.

Lawrence remains unfazed, his expression still thoughtfully soft.

“She’ll be ninety-eight this June.”

“Eighty-eight?” Dan frowns. He must have heard that wrong.

Lawrence points a finger to the ceiling. “Up ten.”

His jaw drops.

“Wow.”

“Yep,” Lawrence contradicts with a warm head nod. “She’s lived through a lot, has our Maggie.”

“I can imagine,” Dan breathes, leaning against the desk. His respective lifespan has already thrown enough in his direction. He can’t imagine what four times that would be.

“Lived through two world wars, bless her,” he sighs, his eyes studying the windowsill. “Lord alone knows what the woman must have witnessed,” his eyes flicker to Dan. “Then bringing up three kids on top of that,” he shakes his head, slurping the steam. “I don’t know how she does it. Still going strong, mind. She’s an angel.”

“Truly,” Dan sighs, his gaze leaning further and further out of the window. A crow comes to a soaring descent onto one of the branches, leaving a flutter of yellow leaves in its wake. If he narrows his eyes he can make out the very outline of a nest somewhere further in. “You’re lucky to have her,” he says before his thoughts can catch up.

Lawrence huffs out a chuckle. “You sound almost as old as I do, kid,” he hesitates. “Though you’re right. I am. I love her.” There’s a silence. “And I make sure I tell her every single day.”

Something tightens in the back of Dan’s throat. He blinks a couple of times, sipping carefully. “That’s lovely,” he mumbles into the mug, masking the crack he knew was going to appear in his voice.

“It’s important to say it as often as you can, you know,” he says, tearing open a box of Leibniz and giving Dan the first pick. They’re orange – his favourite. Last week’s rant over the white chocolate ones had clearly been taken on board. “However you say it. In whichever respect you mean it. You have to tell them how much they mean to you. You have to tell them you love them.”

A crumb goes down the wrong way.

“Careful, kid,” Lawrence gives him a firm thump on the back. Dan erupts into coughs, pausing to choke on his own breath a handful of times.

“You okay?”

It’s an amusing question given he’s a shade of scarlet and can only gasp in response, but he nods anyway, reaching for the tea.

All good, he mouths.

A couple of scalding sips later his lungs finally begin to recalibrate.

“Fuck-…” he huffs out a sigh. “I don’t know where that came from- I-…” he chokes again. “You’re right, though, about the-” another cough interrupts him.

“You’re meant to eat it, not inhale it,” Lawrence chuckles. “You donut. Here-“ he pulls out a drawer, scrabbling through loose sheets of kitchen roll and various CDs (without cases, much to Dan’s anxiety) before thrusting a half-opened packet of Soothers into his hand. “Finish them off, kid.”

“Oh, Lawrence,” Dan’s heart all but melts. “Thank you.”

He only takes one, but Lawrence insists he keeps them.

“Just in case you inhale your dinner tonight,” he chuckles, before adding, “Don’t you go choking on that, for God’s sake.”

“The irony of choking on a Soother,” Dan giggles. his speech a little indistinct. They’re a little on the sticky side but they still taste good. The peach ones have always been his favourite.

“Remember what I said,” he reminds him as Dan chews.

“Thank you,” he says again.

“Not at all, pet,” he smiles. “They need eating up.”

Dan chuckles. “I meant for the-…” he trails off when he spots the gleam in the older man’s eye. He doesn’t even need to finish his sentence to know he knows.

“It’s my pleasure. As long as I can be useful for something,” he raises his chipped mug to his lips as if it’s a champagne glass. “Always remember to give your energy to the right things. And the right people.”

Dan smiles, twining a loose thread around his pinkie. Another pellet of wisdom to come back to when he feels his mind darkening.

“I never used to be much good at that,” he admits. “The right people were always the wrong.”

“Ah, but never forget how far you’ve come,” Lawrence says. “You’re telling me things you wouldn’t have even been able to even think about months ago.”

Dan looks up. “Seriously?” Shit, he hadn’t even noticed.

“Would I be joking?” Lawrence simply says, furrowing a large silver eyebrow. Dan looks down at his tea, sipping carefully. It’s reached a perfect temperature, the liquid hugging his lips. “You tend not to be able to see your own progress, but others can. Others do,” he insists, grey eyes promising.

Dan feels like he’s going to cry.

“Thank you,” he breathes, disguising his mouth with the mug again.

“You don’t need to thank me, kid,” he chuckles.

“It’s unbelievably hard not to,” Dan admits, chuckling too. His eyes threaten tears but he can’t stop grinning.

“If anything, I should be thanking you,” he says.

Dan stares at him.

“Me? What for?”

“Oh, kid,” Lawrence sighs, his eyes glittering. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you. We’ve had some real characters in and out of here, I’m telling you – between you and me, and don’t even let this get to Phil, but-…” he shakes his head, his eyes following another crow headed in the same direction. He’s probably watching the same tree; Dan briefly thinks before he continues. “Some were okay,” he says almost as if to convince himself if anyone. “Mary, she was lovely. But some,” he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Look- I really shouldn’t be telling you this- Lord alone knows how unprofessional it is to be-“

“I wouldn’t worry,” Dan interjects, immediately apologizing for interrupting. “Workplaces harbor all manner of dark secrets. I’m sure a little venting about a couple of difficult colleagues doesn’t even come close.”

Lawrence chuckles, dusting biscuit crumbs off of the desk. “That I can’t argue with, kid,” he continues wiping, as if to process his next thought. “I’m not one to speak ill of people- of anyone, but-…’ he shakes his head. ‘You have no idea how much easier a time you give me, kid. It’s a joy to have you here,” he lowers his voice. “Some of them didn’t even turn up.”

Dan feels his face burn a little. Something warm floods through his veins. Shit, he’s never been told anything like that before. Never anything even remotely close. There’s also something particularly wholesome about Lawrence giving a recount of lousy employees like it’s a business-shattering affair, all hushed tones and closed doors.

“It’s great to be here,” he says quickly, his heart thumping. “It really is. It-…” he stops himself, interrupted by the abundance of possible phrases. Saved me, is the only one that adheres.

“I know,” Lawrence says before he can even open his mouth. He reaches forward and gives his knee a quick pat, and Dan wonders how such a small motion can harbour such reassurance. He doesn’t even need to finish his sentences he’s this understanding. “You’re a delight of an employee, I hope you realize,” he grins. “Everything you do is so appreciated here, kid. I ought to tell you that more often,” he pauses.  “Sometimes the advice we give is advice we need to take ourselves, eh?

“And vice-versa,” Dan smiles, before hesitating. “Maybe I ought to express myself more.”

“Oh, you already do, kid,” Lawrence says. “We know.”

Dan’s grinning at his tea when he catches the end of his sentence.

“Especially Phil, did you say?”

“Oh, tell me about it. He can’t speak too highly of you, can our Phil. He can’t stop talking about you altogether, mind. ‘The Dan Button’, we call it.”

This conversation isn’t doing Dan’s sensitive blush reflex any favours whatsoever, but he’s past caring. He’s something of an open book to Lawrence anyway.

He stares at the row of vintage Cadbury mugs lining the top shelf of the cabinet (the 1970s Caramel edition is his favourite – there’s just something about the golden writing) as he continues. He wonders if he has a Phil Button. Does he talk about him a lot? Fuck, he hasn’t even thought about it. Usually there’s so much to say; whether it be an anecdote from the passing day or a conversation they’d had or something they’d watched or witnessed or read. It’s difficult to keep track of his own train of thought whenever anyone mentions him. The topic usually leads itself, his own mouth merely a guide. He’ll have to ask Noah if it’s getting excessive.

His eyes stay with the branch. The two crows huddle around the nest-like cluster. By the time this conversation is over the tree will probably be completely leaf-less, he notices as more fall.

“I don’t have a Phil Button, do I?” he says before he can stop himself. Fuck. He just couldn’t resist.

Lawrence only smiles. An eyebrow thinks about twitching upward.

Dan smirks at the silence. Okay. Enough said.

“You kids,” he sighs, swallowing the remains of his tea. “Look out for each other, won’t you? Remember what I said. Tell people how much they mean to you. They aren’t mind-readers.”

Dan smiles, and promises.

“Always.”

Lawrence grins. “I’m glad you ended up here. Doctor Lester is particularly fond of you, y’know.”

Dan stares at him. Surely not. He’s never even seen the man talk, let alone crack anything close to a smile. Any communication between the two had always been by proxy – usually through Lawrence but Phil a lot of the time too. It’s eerily easy to forget they’re even related at all, let alone father and son.

“Oh yes,” he continues, reading his expression. “I shan’t embarrass you with the details, but he says it’s simply a delight to have you on board.”

Dan stares out of the window. Another crow had joined whom he had presumed to be the mother (how can you even tell with birds like that?), both fluttering close to their respective nest. More leaves fall with every judder.

“Well, that-…” he giggles, already feeling his face flush again. He’s going to have to invest in some makeup at this point. “That means a lot. To say the very least, I guess,” he widens his eyes, staring into space. “Wow. God, that’s-…” disbelief silences him. He shakes his head. “That’s the first time like-…” his eyes flicker wider. “Ever.”

“Yeah,” Lawrence remains tactfully quiet. Any allusions toward past jobs are always met with nothing other than gentle sympathy – never questions, never any further comments. Dan can’t thank him enough for that – the past is to be referred to, not relived. If its only reflective purpose is to one day be used as a comparison, something highlighting the incline of quality of life thereafter, then so be it. “You’re appreciated here, kid. By all of us,” he leans forward. “Between you and me, I think he can see how happy you’re making Phil. Y’didn’t hear that from me though, alright?” he nudges his foot with his own and throws him a quick wink.

Dan goes from pink to peony. He makes sure to chew his biscuit properly this time, dunking it in the remains of the tea. Another choking fit at his point would probably send him head-first into the recovery position. He doesn’t reckon being carried out of Mr. Headforth’s office on a stretcher would be his finest hour. Not when he’s finally made it onto the good side of the school, of the staff and communities therein; unusually tight-knit for such a vast population.

He looks up. He smiles.

“No, I didn’t.”

Lawrence’s eyes flicker down to his cheeks. He doesn’t need to say anything.

::

And I make sure I tell her every single day.

It resides with him for the rest of the afternoon, the phrase burning itself into his consciousness like a tattoo behind the eyes. He can’t let it go, not when he’s studying that pineapple streak the sunset left behind, Phil a breezy nuzzle to the cheek. Not when they’re pacing through the corridors somewhere in the evening, somewhere between the fall of the sun and the rise of the moon. Not even when their hair becomes a confusion of two shades and every breath is shared.

However you say it. In whichever respect you mean it.

He wonders how Lawrence tells her; his mother. When. Where. Does it depend on the day? The hour? Circumstance? He knows there are more than eight letters involved in the action, more than three words to its weight. Does the meaning bleed through his everyday phrases? When he asks her about her day? Whether she’s eaten?

He gulps, his heart thudding.

“Have you had lunch?” was how he’d greeted Phil this noon. “I have loads of pasta in the fridge. I made too much again.”

He stares at the ceiling.

“Text me when you get there,” was how he’d said goodbye this evening. It had started as a joke between the three of them – the campus, although spanning acre-upon-acre of land is still nothing but a speck when compared to the rest of the outside world – but had quickly become something of a tradition (to the extent Dan would often find himself receiving ‘i’m ok <3’ texts from someone in the next room as him).

“Take care,” is how he punctuates most ending conversations with the other boy in hindsight. Still eight letters. A different combination of such, albeit, but a mirrored meaning.

Oh god. He’s fucked.

You’re at a funny age, grey eyes remind him.

Every cell in his body agrees with that, and apparently it’s something they’ll have to get used to. It looks like that’ll never stop, not even after ninety-eight trips around the Sun.

Remember what I said.

Dan does.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan au #dan and phil #mywriting #writing #chaptered #im still refamiliarising myself w this so it might take a couple chapters to properly settle in #but i hope this is ok omg

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 8 - About Sawajiri Erika's early comeback. (*Treatment of drug addicts*)

K: Hi, This is Dir en grey's Kaoru. Joe san, Tasai san, once again.

J, T: Please. Thank you very much.

Kami: Me too.

J: Oh, kami too, right?

K: Unlike on the radio show, he's always around now, isnt he? There were times when he wasn't around before.

J: I think he descended to us about once a month on the radio show.

T: *laughs*

K: In that show, he just flitted in sometimes, and that was it.

J: Yes, yes, yes.

K: Now he's everywhere.

J: He's a regular commentator now.

K: *laughs*

T: This time we have some news from Tokyo Sports.

J: Ah! From the celebrity world

T: Lets start.... Do you know the Japanese comedy duo 'Nihon Elekitel Rengo', famous for the 'Dameyo, damedame' sketch?

J: I didn't, but I learned about them from Tokyo Sports.

T: What about you, Kaoru?

K: I know them.

T: They are a female duo, but one of them, Nakano san, got married to an older man working at the same agency, but it was a marriage with zero prior social interaction.

J: What does that mean? They got married on the same day they met?

T: Well, she was approched by the man, Matsuo Atom san, but she continuously turned him down. Then she suddenly decided last year to marry him. So, its kinda being debated online whether it is or it isn't *1. I really want to ask them.

J: Ahh, surely it is.

K: You can't say it isn't.

J: You can't.. But if you think its isn't...what isn't?!

T: People who think that it isn't, say that because they've never dated, they don't know each other well, and they might divorce quickly.

K: Oh, thats about afterwards.

T: Some concern was raised about that.

J: But I dated my wife for twenty years before marriage, and ended up getting divorced after two years. So just because you've been together for a while, it doesn't mean you won't get divorced.

T: Ahh, I see.

J: This type of thing can't be helped.

K: But thats normal, dating for a long time, getting married, and then ending up separating. It happens to a lot of people, right?

J: Yes.

T: But this Nakano san says, they've never held hands, they don't know each other's address, they don't live together..

J: But they got married?

T: Yes

K: The possibility of them separating seems high, but...

J: Right?

T: Yeah

K:..but, they can do what they want.

J: Yes, i think so. It sounds weird, but this also works as publicity.

T: Yeah

J: Almost like a risky stunt. Personally, I think its possible. But if one of them had the idea, and the other agreed to it, isnt it something to be thankful for?

T: Yeah, but apparently thier boss was really worried about it, he said they should have told him first. He booked a hotel suit room and shoved the two of them in there, but apparently nothing ended up happening.

J: Nothing happened?! People hearing this will want to know if they love each other.

Kami: I want to meet thier boss.

J: Oh, that? *laughs* A suite room is expensive right?

Kami: Yeh, I want to stay in a suite room.

*everyone laughs*

K: What would you do if you did stay in one?

Kami: If I did? Hmm, use the internet.

*laughing*

J: You can do that anyway! What about something more extravagant?

K: Like ordering room service or something.

Kami: I would order room service.

K: What would you order?

J: What would you eat, Kami?

Kami: Ramen

*laughing*

J: I don't think there are many people who would order ramen in a suite room.

K: It might actually be good though. Eating that kind of common food in that kind of place.

J: Eating something...

K: and just looking at the internet.

J: Just looking at the internet *laughs*

K: Its luxurious, right?

J: Exactly. Isn't it wasting the suite though?

T: Okay, lets look at another story. Its this story, it caused quite a stir. Sawajiri Erika...she was found to be in possession of drugs and had her first court appearance at the end of January. The entertainment world is in uproar concerning her early comeback, should she, shouldn't she?

Kami: She should.

J: I think so too.

T: Why? I'll ask you first, Joe.

J: Well, this is her first crime, so she probably won't get a prison sentence. I think it will be a suspended sentence. So, the idea behind a suspended sentence is to give you preparation time to get back to your normal life. Its important get back to your original life as much as possible.

T: I see

J: So, with a suspended sentence she will lose all of her tv sponsers and stuff, but its important for her to gain a platform back, for example, online or such. Now, if we talk about the situation in America, drug addicts are seen as ill people, not criminals, so they embark on a process of revovery, in order to quickly return to regular life. There's a feeling of, 'you're ill, so lets get you better'. Its felt that the worst thing to do, is to be alone with it. Leaving people in these situations is seen as bad. Getting people re-immersed in the community, and returned to normality as much as possible through social interaction, is how America deals with this. As to why America does this, its mainly cost, it costs money to treat people. They want to get people back out into the world quickly. Unlike the idea of severe punishments in Japan, America generally thinks in that way. My own view is very similar to that... We'll have to wait for the verdict. If she gets prison, theres nothing to be done, but if she gets a suspended sentence, she should try to return to her normal life as much as possible. On the other hand, once you've used drugs, you must be able to continue in a clean state, so you must also have the support around you to be able to stay clean.

T: I see, I see.

J: I think thats important.

T: Kami, what are your thoughts?

Kami: The same as Joe. There were no victims.

J: Yes, thats right. No one else was hurt by this.

T: An opposing opinion might be that, as a tv star, she might have a bad influence on young people. What would you say to that?

J: In that case,..well, i don't watch tv much, so I don't really know, but there are loads of scenes of people injecting stuff on talk shows or such, aren't there? Thats got to be more of a bad influence. I think people need to consider that more. Just because she appears on tv, it doesn't mean people are gonna start doing drugs.

K: Yeh, she isn't gonna do drugs on screen.

J: Yeah, rather, those scenes of syringes and stuff..

K: Yeh, the stuff on talk shows is more of a bad influence.

J: I think so.

T: So, in connection with this, what do you think about stopping the screening of movies etc which the person has starred in, which tends to happen at lot in the entertainment world..Joe san?

J: I can only describe it as nonsense. In the music world, it would be the withdrawal of records..., there is no meaning to it. Its totally separate from what they are expressing. As for music, no one ever talks about The Beatles' or The Rolling Stones' drug use. Thats a totally different issue...In relation to drugs, I think eradicating them is important, so for example, we could have a portion of that artist's sales being donated to organisations like DARC  (Drug Addiction Rehabilitation Center) in Japan, for example, which would be a good way to use them. I can't see any merit in just withdrawing thier works. If an artist returns to thier life, but is unable to be musically active, well, Tashio san is a good example of this *2, the places they can exist disappear gradually, and they become isolated. This is really sad. There's a possibility that leaving people in that isolated state can have a further negative influence, so there is no point in limiting the places people can work, or withdrawing thier works. I think Japan's management of this issue is problematic. In America, they don't arrest people for using drugs, they arrest the buyers and such, and thats what makes the news. But in Japan, you can see who's using drugs just by checking your phone. In particluar, famous people who use drugs are made into targets, to scare people, and to show how much your life will be ruined if you use drugs. It seems like its a kind of boosting of the zero tolerance policy which the Ministry of Health and Welfare introduced in the 1990s. It seems like that to me anyway.

Kami: Couldn't they make some kind of isolated place available, where its ok to do drugs?

T: Thats new.

J: Another novel idea from Kami.

K: Well, but yeah.

Kami: Because people who like drugs, will just like them.

J: I think so.

Kami: Yeh, so if you do that...because there are people who feel happier after taking medicine right?

J, T: Yeh.

Kami: Couldn't those type of people go to some place and be allowed to do it?

K: Without any crime occurring, right?

J: Right

T: Yeh, thats it.

Kami: No crime.

J: Well, i don't know if this is the appropriate way to express this, but in the case of drug dependence, its clear that the number one drug which causes mental and physical dependence is alcohol, rather than 'drugs'. You won't get arrested for alchol dependence, and the reason for that is because alcohol is legal. But incidents or fatal accidents cause by alcohol are ceaseless. There are a few incidents annually where someone murders after using drugs but, for example, as for people at the station falling onto to train lines, sixty percent of those are drunk, and many more people are killed by drunk drivers than drug addicts.

K: Well, its because there are many more people who drink alcohol.

J: Yes, the proportion is bigger. So if you consider these incidents in this way, they are certainly happening. In relation to drugs, there isn't really any logical explanation for them being illegal, but they are still strictly controled. Its a bit strange, but in America...well, it might be strange to always talk only about America, but the ban on cannabis, or medical cannabis has been lifted in America. In Japan, we have a situation where we can't even discuss such a thing, so I feel like it may be a bit of Galapagos syndrome....What do you think, Tasai san, about (Sawajiri's return)?

T: Well, she won't be able to eat, if she can't do tv work. From the viewers perspective, as long as its done appropriately..

K: Don't you need sponsers for tv though? So its not something she can really decide herself. But..on the stage or theater, if there are people who want to see her, I don't think it should be a problem.

T: Yeah

K: If there are people who say they don't want to see her on the airwaves, well, they are going to say that.

J: What do you think about her comeback, Kaoru?

K: Its completey fine to do it. Well, I mean she was doing a bad thing, but she has to carry on living. She could also find a different job, thats fine too.  As for returning to the entertainment world, well, i dont really know, but she should return to some kind of work as soon as she can.

J: Yes, thats it...It might be difficult in the entertainment world.

T: Right..Especially with sponsers.

Kami: Isn't that ok though?

K: Yeah, they'll use who they want.

Kami: Its only whether the sponser will use her or not, right? On tv?

J: On tv, yes.

Kami: If they have a reason to use her, they will.

J: But as Kaoru said, she might have more freedom on the stage or something. There must be something that only she can do, so it seems at waste to just kill off her talent.

Kami: If she herself decides to lay low for a while and self reflect on what she did, thats ok too. No one needs to tell her to. Now, i mention it, its the same with alcohol. If you drink too much and end up being late, you can self reflect and show remorse. If it was me i would deduct it from thier salary though.

J: *laughs* How fresh.

Kami: Its just a problem of whether or not they self reflect on it.

T: I see

K: Well, it depends on the circumstances of the person.

Kami: Yeh, in the end. Of course, drugs, but alcohol and cigarettes etc are all bad too, right? I really want to emphasise that. But at the same time, there are people who like them, who will use them anyway. As a result they will be punished by the law, and that will be enough. I think that should be a salary deduction, and then be finished with it. But your boss or someone might be mad at you *3

T: I see

J: Its like, I've had a deduction, so forget about it already.

T: So, that was Tokyo Sports' news.

J: Ahh, Oh! I wanted to ask you, who is it? Celebrity 'X', who is about to be arrested?

K: *laughs*

T: We'll put the news out to the whole world, so..

J: You'll find this if you search for Tokyo sports news, 'X'.

T: Oh, i can't tell you.

J: You can't? Damn

K: Kami might know.

J: He might.

K: But he's only a god for us three.

J:Yeh

K: Maybe he doesn't know.

J: He's not a worldly god.

Kami: I know who it is.

J: Oh, you know?

Kami: I know.

J: Kami, who is it?

T: Joe, don't ask that!

J, K: *laugh*

T: It'll be announced to the world...my account will be banned.

K: We need people to subscribe, right.

J: Yes yes yes yes.

K: Thank you very much, see you next time. Thank you.

J, T: Thank you

*1 It is or it isn't/they are or they aren't, or that type of thing.

*2 No idea who this is.

*3 Not 100% about what he means here.

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression #kaoru #薫 #tfoe

[alma-berry]

1) I think it's really dangerous to suggest that a non-straight character being popular is tied to their 'pornographic value' and blatant proof of mass fetishisation bc it achieves the exact opposite of normalising lgbt ships (it pushes them to the margins/silences discussions centred on them) and it creates a damaging narrative of lgbt characters being nothing but their sexuality and having no hope of ever being recognised as more than their sexuality/romantic inclination.

(I’m gonna answer each part of this ask individually cuz this is long and I have a lot to say)

2) I rarely see these kind of discussions aimed at straight ships. I've never seen someone imply that Julian is a fan favourite because he's with Emma and had sex with her. The mixed reactions Jace and Clary got, and are still getting, have little to do with their sexual orientation. Most people I've talked to are side-eyeing the J/C/M triangle bc a lot of us are over love triangles, not because Cordelia is getting in the way of J/M.

I couldn’t agree more. Our need of queer characters is not in order to create our own little bubble. We need queer narratives to be normalised, such as queer identities. Normal not in a form of “same as” but in a form of “just as valid as”. That why you’re so right, and we need to be very careful in the way we phrase ourselves and our demand for more queer representation. This world consists of so many kinds of people, and each and every one of them should be appreciated on its own, by its own right and its own story, and not just as a title or a box that should be checked.

3) As far as wlw ships are concerned, the silence around them is in part the result of Cassie's own treatment of her (sparse, so so rare) wlw characters. There's very few of them and the ones we do have, Cassie's own investment in them is lacklustre. They are sidelined, barely mentioned, rarely involved in the main plot. Exiled, chained to a sickbed, they don't get to shine as protagonists braving their own adventure.

Leaving Anna aside (who so far is a remarkable character), I agree with you completely. Intentionally or not, this is the case. The wlw representations in TSC is weak, inconsistent (I spoke before of how Helen is a completely different character in RSOM than she was in Tales and TID) and lacking of authenticity. The story of how Haline met in RSOM fell so flat to me, almost as a gag. They have some beautiful moments in TID which I truly love, but as a whole I’m disappointed of how they’re portrayed. But, we can ask what the reason for it might be. Is it because CC has something against wlw ships? I don’t think so. I think the problem is planted in that they interest her less than other ships. Or, we might say, ships with men. I’m NOT saying this is a woman-hating thing, not at all. But I have a lot of criticism towards the way she writes female characters, and I think this specific lack of authenticity in her wlw ships is originated there.

4) Cassie could have made Cordelia a lesbian of colour. She could have matched her with Lucie instead. She could have made Kit, the lost Herondale, a girl instead. Could have written Ty as an autistic, gay girl. Heck, she could have made Julian a girl! She had plenty of mains to choose from as potential wlw rep and she didn't. She either made them straight or mlm and it was her decision. If there's a bias in the fandom, it certainly echoes the one in her books.

Now, this I don’t agree with. There’s a story, and the story has to make sense. Making some characters female or wlw just for the sake of it is not something I think she should do. Also, she doesn’t owe us more representation, she’s doing quite a lot in that department. We can criticise the quality of it, but calling her out for not doing more, or more in the way we want her too, is not fair. I understand completely that we have our own needs of female wlw characters, I truly do (The only characters I can meekly identify with is Helen, which sucks for reasons I already explained), but we can’t pretend we’re owed that by every single author on earth, let alone an author who already is quite a pioneer in that department.

5) So what I'm saying: while she has good rep in her books, her main characters are still overwhelmingly straight and if they are not straight, they are more often than not mlm. And while I'm grateful for the world she has created and every single one of her lgbt characters, I don't think it's warranted to act as if her books treat male and female characters equally, as if there's a perfect balance between m/f, m/m and f/f ships, and insult her fans for working with what she gave them.

No, her male and female characters are not balanced. Not in so many ways… the more problematic thing to me is from a feminist point of view and not from a queer point of view, honestly. But this is not the subject at hand - so no, we can’t say theres a balance, but must we? The world is more straight than queer, that’s a fact. Not that I would’ve minded a completely queer cast of characters (it would be a dream come true) but why be angry about that? Yes, she writes far more mlm than wlw couples, that’s true. Obviously she likes (and frankly, succeeds) writing them more than the others. But should we be spiteful because of that?

Her comment on that post is insulting by all means, I said it loud and clear. Not sure if its relevant to how were “working with it” though.

#queer representation #queer lit #wlw representation #haline #tsc #cassandra clare

[eroticcannibal]

What's recovery rhetoric? I think I have a basic understanding of it, but I feel like I'm missing the nuance of it, if that makes sense?

Ok I’ve learned my lesson, I’m typing this up in wordpad too and also I’m lazy so I’m cribbing from previous posts  (which I will link to in case anyone wants some further reading). Also it might not be necessary for u but I’m gonna cover basics in this in case any newer followers are curious.

So, SUPER short version, “recovery rhetoric” is the eugenics-lite way that recovery is discussed and pushed on mentally ill/mad/neurodiverse people. Recovery rhetoric is essentially the intra-community version of neurotypical ableism and their ultimate goal of eradicating neurodivergency. It’s an ultimately harmful attempt to try and assimilate into neurotypical society. Now I don’t think those that perpetuate it are intentionally malicious, I completely understand the desire to get better and be “normal”, but nonetheless the impact is ultimately harmful.

Things that are typical of recovery rhetoric:

Constantly changing redefinitions of “recovery”. Recovery means the problem is gone, which for most people is not possible, ever. Most people engaging in recovery rhetoric recognise this but rather than give up on recovery, which is demanded of all of us by ableist society, they attempt to redefine it, which creates a situation of one side telling a vulnerable person that “recovery is possible!”, which sets them up for the trauma of constant and inevitable failure for not living up to The Actual Definition Of Recovery, which will usually be internalised as a personal failing.

The insistence that their is One Way That Recovery Looks. To make this easier to discuss here I’m going to define this as “improvement” rather than “recovery”, but recovery rhetoric ignores the variety of people and their situations and experiences. The standard for improvement tends to be go to therapy, take your meds, “healthy” (read: respectable by ableist standards) coping mechanisms only etc etc which is inherently harmful for prioritising respectability over what is actually helpful for an individual.

One example would be the earlier discussion on my blog regarding addiction, the recovery rhetoric approach would frame replacement and even addiction itself as “unhealthy” coping mechanisms, therefore things that should be eradicated immediately regardless of the individuals situation. Their is no consideration for those who would be worse off in their current situations without their “bad” ways of coping. No consideration for those that respond differently to different things (insulting myself is FUN it doesn’t actually damage me, the same is true of others, please leave us be). Their is no consideration of the fact that “healthy” is subjective. Their is no consideration of the fact that for some “healthy” is UNACHIEVABLE. Their is no consideration of those who would be harmed by “respectable” methods of improvement, such as therapy or meds (abuse within mental health fields exists and is rampant). And this tends to breed a lack of compassion for those in worse situations than those who can just drink a glass of water and take their meds to feel better. It’s respectability or you aren’t trying hard enough and you just want to be ill. Because recognising that personal improvement is actually antithetical to the expectations of ableist society, those entrenched in recovery rhetoric will tear down anyone who is a threat to their viewpoint so they can hold on to the hope they will be “normal”.

(Also, I’ve just realised this parallels the CBT approach: removing a negative behavior results in the problem it is a response to being solved. Which is… not how things work but given how CBT has been pushed lately above all other forms of treatment due to low costs, to the point where some other treatments have been cut away completely, I’m… much less suprised by this aspect of recovery rhetoric. I’m copywriting this insight /j)

The idea that to be neurotypical and sane is the default, what we should all aim to be, and that existence outside of that is a deviation to be fixed no matter the cost. By God You Better Be A Productive Cog In The Machinery Of Capitalism Or You Have Failed. This links in a little with the previous point, in that what is considered “healthy” and “recovered” doesn’t always correlate with what is good for someone.

The pathologising of Every Damn Thing Even If It Is Harmless. Not texting back is because you are traumatised. Don’t do toooo much self care because that’s indulgence. Don’t trust people? It’s because you’re crazy, not because people have shown you can’t trust them. I could go on.

Coercive loss of autonomy through intra-community pressure. You are not allowed to be ok with being ill or mad. You are not allowed to disagree with professionals, you must submit to them and seek treatment from them. Recovery is not optional. Don’t you dare suggest there is nothing actually wrong with you. And of course listen to some random blogger who knows nothing about your life, they just want the best for you, you aren’t anti-recovery, are you?

The denial of outside factors in mental illness and madness. If you have a problem, it’s because of you, your brain, you have to fix it. Your recovery is down to you. Homeless? Abused? Can’t get medical treatment? RECOVER ANYWAY.

It leaves no space for those who have been harmed by recovery attempts and the mental health field. Certainly no space for those that have been killed by them.

(can u tell I’m getting lazy towards the end here? My hands hurt, sorry)

Recovery rhetoric may seem quite lovely on the surface, but the end result is a few uwu recovery drink-water-take-your-meds blogs feeling all morally superior because it’s easier for them, and a culture of attacking anyone who has life a bit harder.

MORE POSTS ON RECOVERY RHETORIC, PRO-RECOVERY CULTURE AND RELATED TOPICS )some are more serious, thought out posts like this, some are fairly casual exchanges of experiences)(check the notes, there’s some good additions)

[Example of the hostility towards those who cannot perform to the standards of pro-recovery culture]

[The value of “toxic” communities like pro-ana]

[Pathologising normal behaviors]

[What is recovery culture]

[A positive approach to personal improvement]

[The cost of recovery]

[Personal accounts of psychiatric abuse][Theres a ton more on my blog if u search “psych”]

[An alternative view on living with a weird brain, which I include mostly due to the hostility in the notes as an example of the behavior directed at anyone who does not perpetuate recovery rhetoric. IDK if the worst of it will show up in the notes cus a lot of people blocked me over that post lmao]

[Pathologising healthy behaviors]

[How recovery culture can cause a lack of trust in yourself]

[”What is recovery?” a perspective by a psychiatric survivor, I’d also recommend that whole site for anyone interested in anti-psych, recovery-critical and Mad perspectives]

[An alternative vision of treatment]

My blog is not the be all and end all of reading, I’m just not looking further lmao

#Anonymous #why did i write this much

[nightcitydiary]

entry 13:

the mantis blades have thoroughly improved my combat experience

i’ve come up with a loose order of operations when it comes to doing gigs. first, i case the joint. are there any non-obvious routes of entry? can i climb up to the roof? i also hack whatever cameras are around and use the network to tag any and all enemies i see. from there i do my best to sneak through and into the area towards my objective; if i can take people out one-by-one without alerting the network that’s ideal, but if i cant or if i get spotted theres no problem with going hog wild. and now, its infinitely more fun to run around stabbing people through the chest with the mantis blades. where before i felt i had to hide behind the environment to shoot the enemies down, now i dont feel constrained, and can take enemies out in short order close-range without fearing constantly for my health. (though i still make use of plenty of health items, but it doesnt feel like im playing catch up when i do so, if that makes sense?)

back to talking about the story; i dont quite like the treatment of the voodoo boys. i understand their motivations, and like the little glimpse i got into their community, but theyre being treated way too close to villains for my liking. someone out there has probably already written a piece on the ways their portrayal is or isn’t racist. i really doubt that its not.

so far, i like the quests with judy. i wasn’t expecting evelyn to go like that, but it didn’t come out of left field either. it was suitably dark, and doesnt feel like its being milked for angst. it seems like a natural progression of the story, and serves as new motivation for judy in the same vein as a similar event served as motivation for the mox as a whole. i’m just sad that we didnt get to talk to evelyn again after everything happened.

i’ve also done a good few gigs and sidequests and such. there’s a quest where you have to drive a guy with a smoking crotch implant to a ripperdoc, and there’s suitably comical dialogue while you have to stop for a class of kids crossing the street, and for several military vehicles to cross in front of you, and have to take a detour because a portion of the road is blocked after an accident.

ive also been doing more races with claire, and got to the point where she told me about her late husband.

ive heard some criticism of how she’s handled as a trans woman character, and i’m not sure i agree. i guess she’s a bit simple as a character, but her being trans doesnt overshadow her other traits and backstory elements, and it isnt the culmination of her being. she’s fun and generally happy but also tough. she bartends and works as a mechanic. her being trans comes up, and i suppose is one of the only mentioned elements of her past relationship with her husband, besides him liking implants and her not, and them racing together. but it feels implied that there was far more to their relationship than that one moment.

idk. if youre more critical of this story beat than i am, then youre probably right. i generally see things in the most flattering light from the get-go. i havent even brought up the shitty transphobic marketing in this post. havent thought about it while writing this. other people are better at this sort of thing than me, and i default to following them.

that’s pretty much it for this post. other thoughts: I cant wait to meet the character my V will romance, I just dont know when or where we will meet. dont spoil me. also; here is a new pic of my V. 

see ya, night city!

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #diary entry #entry 13