#any and all complaints i make about this situation are directed towards reality in general.
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Self care, don’t care.
Before I start this blog post, I want to say last month was probably one of the most exciting months of my life as I became a finalist at the Wego health awards 2021 for Rookie of the year category. I could not and still cannot believe that my blog, Social media page and general posts resonated so strongly with you lovely lot and is recognised so highly by Patient leaders across the world. So thank you. That night and the excitement I felt throughout the whole of the month is something I will never forget. I love you all. 😊
So, the reason that I have not posted a full blog for a few months is … well honestly like I have felt like over cooked spaghetti. You know when pasta is cooked to long, and it all gets sort of mushy and stuck together, people avoid it, make appreciative noises when you bring a plate of it out, and when your back is turned, they stuff it behind some sort of pot plant or when it becomes so claggy you could use it as some kind of DIY alternative for tile glue. Well yeah, like that. I think the thing that started it was the realisation that I would have to go out into the world after lock down – back to work, seeing people, whilst still trying to stay safe and well and not feel like wallpaper paste. It was also the scary realisation of how Phyllis has very much become a permanent fixture in my life and how my mobility and general staying ‘uprightness’ has got worse in a year. Suddenly the safe cocoon I had built for myself, and my husband was obliterated. I suddenly became very wary of others, especially large groups of people with faces. The walk that I could complete which would take me to the bus stop a year ago became this game of Russian roulette to see how impossible it would be to carry myself, a bag on wheels and walk in a straight line on a 60mph road with no pavement, and I was pretty sure there was a higher than likely chance, if I fell over, I would get rolled on by a vehicle or 6 coming in the opposite direction and I would spend the rest of my life in 2D. Pre fibro, I used to be able to hop in a ditch with care free abandonment, waving merrily to all the passengers in the cars going past, letting the cars whizz past me in the knowledge that I was safe and sound (albeit muddy) but oh Mama those days are long gone. Since Fibro makes me feel like my legs are tied together with bungee cords and my reflexes are not up to par, hopping anywhere would require me to be lifted up on a trampoline by a team of 4, said team pressing me up and down in unison in some kind of bouncy motion, then hoisted up by winch, until a team of workers could create some kind of solid landing platform for me to land on. However I fear the reality of me trying to leap out of the way as a car comes screaming towards me, would cause me to losing my footing and end up arse over face, in a ditch covered by twigs, moss, grass and last nights remnants of KFC, then trying to scrabble out of said ditch, swearing, removing, chicken wrappers out of my hair, apologising to the squirrel I have just rolled on. All whilst some twat face leaned out of a car window, absolutely wetting themselves at the sight of this mad Stig of the dump like creature covered in mud and tears, stopping only to take a video of me for their social media page. Then once I had managed to dig my way out of said ditch and on two feet, I would have to drag my poor bruised, hair straggled self to a bus stop filled with suspicious people all wondering why I look so dirty and smell of chicken and suddenly have 3000 views on you tube. That thought is stressful. All those tasks I didn’t have to worry about whilst safe in my little bubble, became now something extra to worry about and I have to admit I have not coped with the change very well. As well as that my darling husband, (yes we still like each other after a year of us both working from home) suddenly started a new job, a better more shiny job, and I didn’t see him as much. I missed him, in fact I still miss him. I lost my lockdown buddy and suddenly the world became much more difficult to navigate with chronic illness, and I retreated into my shell like a sad turtle, not sure how to re-integrate myself back into society.
I know I have not been alone in my thoughts. I met up with one of my darling friends a few weeks ago, and she confessed she had been struggling over lockdown. Her feelings very much echoed my own, except I felt all the things she was feeling now the world was opening up again and so I wondered why? Why now when we have the choice to go out more and explore and be free, dance in the sunflowers with our hair blowing in the wind, why now am I feeling like the feeling of going out fills me with dread and anxiety? I think it’s the feeling of losing control. In my bubble, I had complete control of my own actions. For one whole year, I went out about 6 times throughout the pandemic. I created this lovely, safe, nest for myself and my husband. It was comforting and familiar. Now I feel like I have lost that. I have returned to the office where I work, I know because I am alone in my house I need to do things to upkeep my own mental health and now feel like I have to go out. Its this horrible catch 22 situation where I feel nervous leaving the house but then sad if I stay inside. There’s no safe space for me anymore, plus I had to fully confront head on the effects of fibro and the chronic fatigue syndrome a year on.. One person asked me ‘ So, why were you able to do….. and not able to now?’ and my answer was ‘BECAUSE ITS BEEN A YEAR SINCE I HAD TO AND PHYLLIS IS NOT HAPPY WITH THE NEW ARRANGEMENTS’ followed by ‘Please by all means if you have any grievances, take it up with her I am sure she would be delighted to answer any complaints you have to why I am suddenly not able to walk without looking slightly drunk/ lob sided, speak without repeating myself, and losing the words for toast but be please be aware she likes to swear and bite’ …. and that’s why I feel like over stretched cheese.
So I have had to regroup…. and quite honestly, I am not there yet. It is hard. I am falling into a rut where I am struggling to leave the house or get out of a very stale routine. I have become reliant on my ‘comfort things’ to help me get me through my rough days…. An abundance of tea, MasterChef Australia, MKR, Disney and pyjamas (whilst at home) and I feel like I have lost my Jess spark and not sure how to get it back. I know I am going to have to put a lot of work into self-care to get me back on an even keel, drastically reduce my tv time drastically, start arty projects again, go and see real people with real faces, stop glaring at strangers not wearing masks, follow a routine, say my self-affirmations once again, listen to mindfulness exercises, complete more meditation…. Its going to be hard work. But I refuse to lose myself again. So, if I am quieter than usual, or seem a bit lost, It’s because… because well I am a bit lost. This new world is hard to navigate whilst juggling fibro and LC and CFS and sometimes I just want to drop all my juggling balls and quit the circus. So, for a little while I am going to focus on Jess. And gently supporting myself to feel like me again, one step at a time. I know Phyllis is going to hate me and with all the change I have spent more time on the toilet than recommended dealing with Colins ever changing habits and demands…. But its something I need to do, and for others trying to step back into the world after all this upheaval and unease, I just want to give you a big hug. You got this. Whether you struggled through lockdown, or are struggling now out of lockdown, please be gentle with yourself. One step at a time and if you need to regroup and recharge, then you do that. I am going to try and speak about the way I am feeling and encourage you all to do the same. After all, with this ever-changing world of chronic illness, symptoms, medication, appointments and this new normal, then its important we all support each other because we are all in this together.
#selfcarematters#mental health#mentalhealthmatters#loveyourself#fibrowarrior#fibrofighter#invisible illness#restandrecharge#chronic illness#new journey#allinthistogether
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how do you think the batfam might react if they find out about Mirage and Tarantula?
Tbh, I’m kinda all plum tuckered out on the Batfam finding out about Mirage and Tarantula against Dick’s most fervent wishes that nobody ever find out about that ever. I’ve talked about this a little in the past, but a survivor having the chance to CONTROL when and where they disclose about what happened to them and to whom, is like......soooo much more important for a lot of us than fic about this stuff tends to like....allow it to be. Its one of the most pivotal and powerful ways many survivors even just START to actually recover and come to terms with what happened, by choosing when and how people find out on THEIR terms, taking back control of their own life and their own agency one major choice at a time. And having that choice taken away from Dick too, with him usually not only having ZERO say in who finds out and when but with it more often than not happening in direct opposition to what he wants in that regard....
So like.....personally, I would just really like to see some more variety here. Some more narratives where people finding out happens because Dick’s READY to tell people, because he’s already done a good deal of healing on his own, been to therapy or like....he’s the one who survived this, so let him SURVIVE it and like.....give him a chance to be viewed as a SURVIVOR by his family and not just a victim when they do ultimately find out. Because he doesn’t need them to save him or patch him up, all he really truly needs is them to support him, and they can do that just as well if he’s already made inroads towards his own recovery by the time they find out or he tells them, rather than it just be like...what we so often end up seeing in fic. Where its like treated as matter-of-fact and a given that Dick’s just flat out self-destructing from this no matter how long its been since it happened, and he’s just refused to deal with it or even try to and he’s been running away from facing it ever since it happened, until....enter the family in fic, as they’re like, no, you gotta face it, and you haven’t been able to do that on your own and that’s why its a good thing we found out even though you really didn’t want us to or not yet or not like this, because you’re not handling it, you’re not coping, so you need people like us to like.....show/tell you how to do it right.
You know what I mean? I don’t think its intentional, but there’s a looooot of tendency in fic to like......just take it for granted that despite the fact that Dick has survived so many traumas and been one of the key figures in helping so many other people survive and process their own traumas as well, there’s just this kinda default assumption that in regards to this he’s just flat out broken and always will be....at least so long as he’s just trying (and failing) to handle it on his own, and that’s where the family comes in, even if Dick would really rather they didn’t, or at least not yet anyway.
And its not that Dick can’t benefit from his family and friends finding out so that they can support him and push back against the things he’s come to believe about himself as a result of internalizing his feelings that those situations were really his fault, etc.....its that there’s only so much he can benefit from their support when he only gets it because of...essentially, another kinda violation that compounds the pre-existing ones, as he’s denied the opportunity and the control/agency to be the one to decide who finds out about this and when and why.
Like, there’s never gonna be an “Ideal Way” for it to go down, but the one thing that IMO is guaranteed to never be ideal and yet so often seems the only way we ever see this happening in fic is like....Dick yet again having no real say or decision in how his life is upended yet again, since this reveal would inevitably change so much about his dynamics with his family one way or another.
And the thing is, at the end of the day, nothing about this narrative or how it plays out in fic is set in stone or an inevitability or like...the one true or right way for it to happen.....and yet....it only EVER seems to happen that one specific way: aka, against Dick’s expressed desire to have them find out while he’s still actively either trying to repress it/deny it ever happened or just he’s not denying it happened but he’s not remotely ready to face other people KNOWING.
Because like.....he’s not a real person. He’s a fictional character. And just like every other narrative he’s written into or the ways he’s depicted in both canon and fanfic....no matter how much we talk about characters being in character or mischaracterized, at the end of the day, the reality is there is no Core/Immutable TRUE choice that Dick would make in any given narrative or situation....
Because like every other character, he will only ever make the choices or behave in the ways that like....a writer chooses to write him.
So like much of my complaints/criticisms/whines-in-need-of-some-complementary-cheese about trends around and about him in stories.....
The problem I have isn’t with any one single specific way people choose to write him behaving or reacting in regards to this or any other narrative situation....
It lies more in just......how often there seems to ONLY be ONE way, singular, in which he’s ever shown reacting to this or behaving in regards to this, just like is true of the only like ‘one dynamic/backstory’ we tend to see in regards to Dick and Jason’s relationship in the early years before Jason’s death. Or the ONE way people seem to view the aftermath of the Forever Evil and Spyral situation, or the ONE way that people focus on the Tim and Damian and Robin/Red Robin situation playing out.
Its not that like, there’s NO room for any of these takes or narratives surrounding Dick’s side of things.....
Its that there only ever really seems to be ONE take on any of these extremely complicated and messy events and points in his stories and life, and like....one ONLY. And that’s it. That’s all there is to it, everything for the most part tends to be just a hundred, a thousand minutely diverging variations of what amounts to the one big “True Dick Grayson Reaction/Choice” where its just taken as a given that this is how it would happen here, when it comes to each and every one of these major story arcs/plot points. Fics mostly just seem to differ in execution while the core decisions or behavior driving the story action or acting as a catalyst for the confrontation/conversation a fic seems aimed at showcasing.....like, there’s this underlying sameness to so many of them. Where its treated like a given that There Can Only Be One when it comes to ways Dick might react or behave in regards to a certain event or choice.....that his characterization is so formulaic, so like....rigid and allowing for little to no flexibility in how he’s written because in the eyes of so many in fandom his true characterization is so immutable, so....predetermined that there just isn’t ROOM in his character concept for him to end up making any other choices than the ones its taken for granted he’d make.
So I guess ultimately, much like with every other similarly framed point or event in Dick’s life and stories, my ideal preference here is just more VARIETY. Writers actually flexing their creative muscles and stretching to EXPLORE new ways of Dick reacting to various things and new ways of other characters reacting to Dick. Mixing up dynamics more, subverting the expectations that are SO expected in so many things pertaining to him that like, we often can predict exactly where Dick’s character is going to go next in a fic or what his next move or words are going to be, and there’s a certain point at which something crosses the line from someone’s characterization being spot-on and someone’s characterization being......limited. Confining.
Personally, and this is 100% at the root of my frequent criticisms of Dick in fanon and why I won’t just let it go, lol, is that I’m never remotely surprised to hear fans of other characters say that they find Dick’s character dull or one-note or two-dimensional or just not as compelling as the other characters, not as......packed with potential to be taken in a hundred different directions or to react to things in surprising yet surprisingly-still-fitting ways that readers don’t see coming but don’t feel is like, out of left field when viewed in hindsight either.
Why should it surprise people that so many readers and fans view Dick this way when......he’s so often WRITTEN this way, only ever falling into extremely predictable patterns and sticking to a lane that’s clearly defined as not just HIS lane but like....the ONLY lane most people can - or at least are willing to - imagine for him.
It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. People find fanon Dick to be dull and uninspired because like.....he’s pretty much oftentimes written TO be those things, particularly in comparison to his more ‘vibrant’ fandom favored brothers. Nobody’s ever going to find themselves pleasantly surprised by a depiction of Dick Grayson when Dick Grayson’s depictions are so frequently limited to being just exactly what most people expect and not a single thing besides that.
So to bring this back around to your initial ask, I think the Batfam’s reaction to finding out, much like is true of any situation if tackled creatively enough.....can be literally anything a writer wants it to be. I would hope most of us would want that reaction to be supportive, lol, but even more than that just in general, for me, personally, I would love to see more where they’re supportive, yes, but that support is expressed not by them taking CHARGE of the situation, but by them, y’know....SUPPORTING. Standing back, waiting for DICK to tell them what he actually needs from them, wants their support to look like or take shape as, because he is in fact a grown man who is extremely capable in his own right and prides himself on being tremendously self-sufficient, and personally, I wish writers would just STOP TAKING THAT TRAIT AWAY FROM HIM. Or worse yet, like....punishing him for it.
It honestly does seem to me like there’s this unspoken undercurrent in so many fandom posts and fanfics where you can kinda just FEEL an author or poster like.....wanting so badly to just come out and say that in their opinion, Dick’s precious autonomy is actually his own worst enemy, and if he’d just stop being so stubborn and insisting on doing things his way or on his own all the time, he probably wouldn’t end up enduring half as much of the traumatic shit he does.
Which, I mean.....kinda inevitably leads directly into the victim-blaming we SO, SO often see with his character, where fans and other characters are both equally in a hurry to blame himself for anything and everything from Having Amnesia Wrong to being tortured, killed and then emotionally and physically browbeaten into making a Bad Decision He Should Feel Badly About but also Totally Responsible For Cuz No One MADE Him Do It, etc, etc.
It all spills forth from and feeds back into this endlessly repeating loop that people have kinda penned him into with intent, because what better way to imply that Dick should always just do what his friends and family want him to do and tell him to do instead of like, kicking up a fuss and making a conflict out of it.......than by showing without telling that "see what happens when Dick DOESN’T just let his family tell him what to do and go along with their ‘suggestions’/what they want gracefully?” This. This is what happens. Poor guy ends up traumatized YET AGAIN because he insists on making his own choices and those choices as we can all clearly see are so often the wrong choices, so really, stepping back from the driver’s seat of his own life and letting his family take the wheel is only in Dick’s best interests as much as anyone else’s.
After all, whether its Bruce firing Dick or Dick ‘staying away for years’ or not being the best/ideal brother for Jason right there on the page in no uncertain terms or giving Jason carte blanche to do whatever he wants upon his return or making Damian Robin without asking Tim first and not believing Tim when he said he was sure Bruce was still alive or not just refusing to go along with Bruce’s plan to keep everyone believing he was dead after Forever Evil but at the same time also not just caving to Bruce’s wishes and instead fighting Bruce on that so hard that poor Bruce HAD to get physically violent with him to get Dick to do what was right until it wasn’t right later when everyone else hated him for it, as well as not just deciding he was instantly and fully 100% on board with believing these total strangers when they told him, as Ric Grayson, just who he was now and what his life as a superhero was like and how he should have no problem just seamlessly stepping back into the roles and shoes he according to their claims usually fills effortlessly and thus has no reason to object to now, despite having literally no memories or internalized awareness of the decade and a half of life experiences that serve as the foundation all of that was built upon.....
I mean, when you think about it, 100% of Dick’s conflicts with his family (and coincidentally, also 100% of the source of most other fans’ gripes about him) come from one thing only: him making up his own mind about what to do or feel or think instead of just automatically prioritizing whatever one of his family wants him to do or feel or think about any given situation.
So wouldn’t everyone just be so much happier and pleasant if he would just stop being a silly goose and give up making such a big deal about his vaunted independence and personal agency?
BUT I DIGRESS.
LOL, no, but you get what I mean. So going back to topic for the second time, hopefully with a bit more staying power this time.....I think there’s absolutely no reason whatsoever that the Batfam can’t be realistically and believably written as being every bit as supportive of Dick when they find out about Tarantula and Mirage as Dick is supportive of them at other times and in other ways.
So really, its just a matter of WANT, and personal prioritizations of what that support might or should look like.
And for me, personally, on this topic and pretty much every other potential Dick Grayson-centric story topic, but ESPECIALLY on this topic......I personally would just like to see more of the Batfam being supportive of Dick while he’s dealing with a trauma, but with that support taking the form of them stepping BACK and like....waiting and listening for him to tell them what HE needs from them, what HE wants from them, what form their support can take that will be of most use to him according to HIS wants, aims and attempts at recovery. Instead of them - as they so often seem written as - stepping invasively INTO his space without so much as pausing to see if they’re welcome, or like, if they’re just making things worse or potentially just retraumatizing him by barging in all bull in a china shop even while still having only the vaguest clue what the situation even is at this point, which makes their certainty they have a better idea of what Dick needs and should be doing right now than he does himself, like.....pure, unbridled arrogance and nothing else. Hubris.
(Y’know, kinda like how I make a big deal about Jason punching Dick upon his return from Spyral, because its almost like its not even just that Punching Your Family Is Bad And People Should Stop Making Jason Do It, but there’s also the pesky little implications of how Dick might perceive that no matter how calmly he took it......given that like.....he was literally beaten by his father into doing the thing that pissed off and hurt the rest of his family just as Dick had always expected it would.....and now here he was literally getting beaten by his brother for......caving to doing the thing Dick always knew would piss off and hurt the rest of them and thus he only submitted to doing after being physically and emotionally beaten into it by his father. Of course I harp on Jason punching Dick there, it was him punishing Dick for doing not what Dick wanted, but what he had to be essentially punished by Bruce into agreeing to do it in the first place. It wasn’t just gross as fuck victim blaming and heaping further physical violence on a guy who’s been decked by four out of five family members as is, it was literal on the page proof that Dick simply can not win where either the other characters or most of their fans are concerned, because he was literally damned if he did, damned if he didn’t in that situation, and sure enough, he managed to end up damned by everyone around and still without so much as a single “how are YOU doing btw, given everything you’ve been through, are you okay?”)
So just....my plea, my wishlist, my Big-Asks-R-Us inventory manifesto:
Can we get even just a few more fics where Dick’s insistence on his own independence is viewed not as a character FLAW to be excised or failing that, punished for at any possible opportunity, but as something UNDERSTANDABLE, something VALIDATED by his family for Dick even wanting it in the first place, let alone NEEDING it as much as he does, not because he doesn’t love his family or want to be around them, but because wanting to be his own person at the same time is in no way actually in opposition to that and it never was.
And in that vein and in light of that, I would happily give away my non-existent imaginary kingdom and crown for even just a few fics where the Batfam only end up called upon or tasked with supporting Dick about Mirage or Tarantula because he voluntarily GOES to them and says hey, there’s something that happened a long time ago that I never told anyone because I wasn’t ready to, but I feel like I am now, I need to and its time.
Or like, fics where maybe he’s still not quite ready to tell them voluntarily yet, reely and of his own volition, but then on a case they come across a rape survivor in considerable distress and empathizing with them and what they’re feeling, opening up about his own past experiences and offering his own story as a talisman for this victim to cling to as a sign it’ll get better for them eventually too, they can heal from this and one day call themselves a survivor instead of just a victim the same as he does......like, that’s still the most natural thing in the world to Dick, the most Him thing he could possibly do in a situation where the tool most relevant to the task before him is pulled straight out of his own treasure chest of trauma, it not even fazing him in the slightest that his family is there with them right now too and that means they’re going to know now, it won’t be a secret anymore......because Dick Grayson does things he’s not happy about all the time, things he doesn’t necessarily like, that aren’t ideal or his first choice, but when it comes down to Do The Thing and thus maybe help someone, or Don’t Do The Thing and instead turn around and consign himself to a thousand years of solitary confinement in the world’s stankest oubliette cuz its what he deserves, says his Brain all Judgingly.....like. I’m just saying. When the choice is clear, so is the resulting Dick Grayson decision: He does the thing, consequences be damned, and just deals with whatever those may be later. Which in this case would be oh crap, my family all knows now, ugh, they’re gonna want to TALK about it now, booooooooooooooo. But also, oh well. I had to Do The Thing.
And like, the thing there is, it might not be his FIRST choice, but unlike scenarios where he just flat out gets no choice in the matter whatsover as his agency is just reviolated all over again by Tarantula or Slade or someone else taking the choice away from him and just telling people what happened to further fuck with his head and retraumatize him.....
THIS STILL LETS HIM HAVE A CHOICE.
And like. There’s just so, SO many ways you can play with that or places you can take that because the more you ALLOW characters to have a choice, to MAKE choices that are beyond just the one singular most obvious or expected choice, the one so predictable there’s barely an actual choice to be made at all when steering a character like Dick towards that....
MORE choices equals MORE avenues of exploration you open up in your story. More roads less traveled, more surprise reveals or unexpected epiphanies, more new ground to unearth and feelings to uncover rather than just more of the same already extensively traveled plot of land and story and reactions/aftermath already so done to death even Jason Todd would consider them low-hanging fruit not worth making a “but I died” jojke about.
Just....MORE. In general. Across the board. In every possible permutation. New. Different. As yet unexplored. Still capable of surprising. Stretch. Reach. Dig deeper. Find the story direction that makes you laugh nervously and say wtf self, where did that even come from, am I Wild One for even daring to contemplate that such a thing could be written?
And then go, why yes, YES THE FUCK I AM THAT WILD ONE, and plot twist, I LIKE IT!
Or, y’know. Alternatively, people can continue to write how once upon a time, there was this guy named Dick, and he was kinda a dick, see, so this one time when bad things happened to him it was like, do we even care, or should we just like....cut to his family and see how this is affecting them and therein just maybe we might find an actual story worth telling? Ahh yes, good, that’s the ticket. So anyway, once upon a time, there were these guys named Jason and Tim and you will never believe what happened to them on the day their walking dildo of an older brother tripped and skinned his knee. Now buckle up, cuz THIS is quite the story!
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READING YOUR DOG
Though dogs have no capacity to communicate with words, they do have a rich language of their own that uses sight, sound, and smell to eloquently express their intentions and emotional states. Your ability to understand this language and its particular social setting is the cornerstone of a good relationship with your dog. The apt expression “reading your dog” means really understanding what she is saying to you and not just what you think it might be. By taking into account the dynamic interaction of various forms of body language, you can avoid problems that occur in the human-dog relationship when owners misinterpret their dogs’ intentions and moods.
For example, one of the complaints we receive from puppy owners involves submissive urination, demonstrated by a puppy who runs up to her guardian and excitedly greets her by urinating on the floor. This behavior is common in puppies, a natural outgrowth from when their mothers cleaned them by rolling them over to lick their genitals and anus. As puppies mature, submissive urination becomes a reflexive sign of their acceptance of dominance and authority. If you observe a young pup greeting an older, more dominant dog in a similar manner (crouching low, wagging tail tucked underneath, excitedly licking at the elder’s muzzle as she leaves several drops of urine on the ground), you will never see the older dog punish the pup. The expression of submission is received gracefully, with an attitude of dominant composure by the older dog as she stands erect, holding her tail high. She understands the sign completely.
Unfortunately, many owners misunderstand its significance and treat it as either a behavioral disorder or a housebreaking problem. We recall a frustrated owner who asked us, “Is she just a masochistic puppy? Doesn’t she understand? Every time I come home she piddles at my feet. I spank her, tell her how naughty she is, that she’s to do this outside, but it only gets worse. Now all I have to do is enter the house and she pees. Why doesn’t she understand?”
The man did not realize what his pup’s behavior expressed. By misinterpreting submissive urination as neurotic, cowardly behavior, and by punishing her with scolding and spanking, he had set the stage for a serious, long-lasting behavior problem. Punishment was the worst possible response to her behavior; it deepened the issue by making her even more submissive, since her body language had already acknowledged his authority. The proper response to this problem is outlined in chapter seventeen.
Expecting your dog to rise to the level of human thought and communication will lead only to frustration. Instead, learn to read her by taking what you know about dogs and stepping into her world, trying to view life from her perspective. This may require a different way of thinking than you are accustomed to.
Try a simple exercise: Imagine looking out of the eyes of your ten-week-old puppy. Do not attempt to verbalize; simply imagine being the dog. Now look up at the big human being next to you (yourself). With the increasing abilities you have as a dog to interpret human body language, what do you “read”? How do you react? Look closely at the eyes, the face, the body. Is the stance imposing and towering, or inviting? Consider the voice—you do not understand the words, but what is the tone? Is it cheerful and pleasant, or harsh and abrupt? Does it sound whiny or anemic? Now look around the room from a dog’s perspective. Observe the pair of leather shoes by the door, the large potted plant, the various pieces of furniture, and the inviting electric cords plugged into the sockets at puppy eye level. With your olfactory powers of incredible sensitivity, what is of greatest interest?
The point of this “pup’s-eye view” exercise is to till the soil of your imagination responsibly, to help you sense, in some small way, what things are like from a pup’s perspective. A good companion and trainer can enter imaginatively into the dog’s reality, interpret it correctly, and then adjust various handling procedures to fit that knowledge. Captain Max von Stephanitz, the founding father of the German shepherd dog breed, was very perceptive in this regard:
The trainer must himself be a psychologist; he must learn to read the soul of the dog, and his own, too. He must observe himself closely so that he shall not only be prevented from underestimating the dog in human arrogance, but also that he may be able to give the dog suggestions and help in an intelligent way. Whoever can find the answer to the question “How shall I say this to my dog?” has won the game and can develop from his animal whatever he likes.
When you approach your dog in this way, the experience is surprisingly multidimensional. Not only does your dog become trained but you become skilled as well, and the ongoing knowledge you acquire from your dog’s behavior has the potential to teach you as much about yourself as it does about your dog. An often neglected aspect of the training process is how your dog becomes a mirror, reflecting you back to yourself, helping you achieve greater self-awareness by drawing out greater degrees of patience, sensitivity, and emotional self-control. This is the heart of training.
In How to Be Your Dog’s Best Friend, we spoke of inseeing and its importance in your relationship with your dog. Inseeing is getting inside your dog’s psyche, putting yourself at her center, where she is a unique, individual creature, and understanding her from that perspective. This is possible only when you genuinely want to know what your dog is saying. To get inside a dog’s head, to understand her from her point of view, you must continually watch, look, and listen, since a dog communicates through her body movements and vocalizations. Inseeing is not a romantic projection of human thoughts and feelings; it takes into account the whole dog by reading what the major centers of communication—ears, eyes, mouth, tail, and body carriage—are saying.
In this chapter, we will examine the significance of these centers of communication and the different meanings associated with various gestures. Your friendship with your dog will mature into real and compassionate understanding when you learn to blend intuition with science in a serious grasp of canine communication and behavior.
Canine Communication
Besides becoming a keen observer of domestic dogs, you can also acquire an authentic sensitivity to a dog’s language by paying careful attention to the lessons available from a natural tutor: the wolf and its pack. Scientific evidence strongly suggests that domestic dogs are closely related to wolves, either as direct descendants of several species or as cousins, possessing a common ancestry in some earlier, unknown canid that is now extinct. Either way, studies performed on communication and social behavior in wolves are enormously illuminating for what they teach us about dogs, since the meaning of various postures and vocalizations are generally consistent throughout the canine family. Despite the fact that artificial selection and domestication have emphasized certain characteristics while suppressing others (for example, by promoting pendulous ears or by the unfortunate practice of tail docking and ear cropping in some breeds), all of the behavior patterns we observe in dogs are also present in wolves. Thus, in the following discussion, we gratefully acknowledge the research in canine communication and behavior carried out by wildlife biologists, ethologists, and animal behaviorists, and we include references to wolves where relevant.
Communication, simply stated, is the passing of information from one individual to another. In canines, this involves hearing, vision, and smell. As we have seen, puppies are born with inherited reflexes that are the basis of instincts—natural behavior patterns that are the means of communication. In the initial phases of life, a young puppy is limited both physically and behaviorally in how she expresses herself. As the brain develops and the pup has the opportunity of interacting with her mother and littermates, however, she becomes more and more capable of expressing a variety of different moods and emotions. These abilities continue to develop long into adulthood.
Vocal Communication
A dog, like a wolf, generally vocalizes in one of several ways, each apparently tied to various body postures that communicate different meanings and moods: whimpering and whining, growling, barking, yelping, and howling, all in a wide variety of tones.
The first vocalizations that puppies make are mewing sounds that indicate need (e.g., for food or warmth). Pups also make high-pitched grunts and squeaks when they nurse. As they grow older, the mewing sound changes into a whine, which carries over into adulthood as an expression of greeting, submission, or desire. Whining is more characteristic of dogs than of wolves (which whine only when expressing submission), and this is probably due to unintentional reinforcement by owners. Young puppies learn quickly what whining will do when their owners continually reinforce this behavior to get them to stop. A classic illustration of this is the puppy who whines the first night she is separated from her littermates. The owner, feeling sorry for her, takes her into bed and lets her sleep there. The puppy learns a fateful lesson in communication, and her whining quickly becomes generalized to any situation of want.
A growl communicates threat and antagonism. It is a warning and may be accompanied with a snarl (i.e., baring of teeth). Young canine puppies growl when they play, thereby learning proper canine etiquette; as they mature, the growl is usually serious. With wolves, it is used by a more dominant wolf over a subordinate and is usually enough to elicit submission. Dogs can utilize the growl in the same way, and if it is directed toward an owner, it signifies the dog’s attempt to assume dominance. An example of this might be an owner getting too close to her pup when she is eating. The puppy may utter a low growl as if to say, “Stay away!” If the owner backs off, the pup easily begins applying this behavior to other situations that challenge the person’s position of authority.
Most domestic dogs bark much more frequently than wolves, probably as a result of selective breeding. Since an early goal of domestication was to have dogs guard and warn, it is clear why they were bred for their barking ability. Wolves, being hunters that do not wish to alert potential prey, bark only in specific situations, such as a warning to other pack members or to the pups that a stranger is approaching. The bark is a short, quiet woof and is generally not repeated.
Domestic dogs bark anytime they are excited. Barks are short and sharp, and the tonal quality reflects meaning. High barks are associated with greetings, such as your puppy’s excited welcome when you come home; when prolonged and frantic, these vocalizations will accompany pain and/or stress and are described as yelps. Warning barks are deeper and alert you that something is up, such as the preliminary bark of the watchdog. The aggressive bark is deeper still and communicates threat. It alternates with growling to send an unmistakable message.
Howling is more common in wolves than in dogs and is their major form of vocalization. It is a prolonged tone, lasting from two to eleven seconds, and may fluctuate over a wide range of notes. Each wolf’s howl is distinct, which seems to suggest that individual wolves can be identified by their vocalizations. Specialists feel that wolves howl for a number of reasons: to reassemble the pack after they have been scattered during a hunt, to advertise territory, or simply to perform a collective celebratory rite. Wolves howl both alone and in chorus, and when they howl together they avoid unison, apparently preferring chord tones.
Dogs howl much less frequently than wolves, though the sound is normal in northern breeds such as huskies and malamutes, as well as in hounds. In our kennel work, we notice that many huskies and malamutes howl shortly after their owners leave them, presumably as an expression of loneliness, and we have periodically experienced the howling of our shepherds, most frequently while we ourselves are singing. Evidently the harmonies they hear encourage them to join in with their own notes.
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Infinitesimal (part 38)
Author’s note: Hope you guys enjoy! It’s another long one. I have lost all sense of self control.
Warnings: (oh boy) Fear, death mention, referenced past minor character death, illness mention, injury, food mention, yelling, sleep deprivation, lying
Word count: 6323
Look for the masterpost in the notes!
...
The apartment door shut with a thud.
In the humans’ absence, Virgil felt himself deflate. He slid down on his crutches, sitting down hard on the shelf. His breath came in ragged gasps, tears springing up in eyes already sore from crying. He choked back a sob.
Patton was there in an instant, pulling Virgil into a hug.
“I-I—I can’t,” Virgil cried out, his voice hardly understandable.
Patton’s arms tightened around him. “They’ll find him,” he murmured. “Just you wait.”
Virgil hugged Patton back, burying his face in his shoulder. He couldn’t help but think that Patton was lying to him, claiming to believe that Emile would be found safe and sound; but right then, maybe that was what Virgil needed.
Several long minutes passed in which Virgil broke down in Patton’s arms. The stress of the whole situation and the reality that Emile might never be coming home were really getting to him. Patton, ever considerate and kind, never let go of him.
At last, Virgil gradually began to calm down. Tears still slipped down his cheeks, and he sniffled occasionally.
“I’m so proud of you, kiddo,” Patton murmured once Virgil had quieted himself.
“Wh-what?” Virgil asked. “Why?”
“Because, Virge, that was really brave, what you did,” Patton said. “You were willing to go to humans to save Emile. I know that it’s really hard for you to ask for help, and the fact that you could do it like this, even after everything… You’re so brave. Not many littles would be that selfless.”
Virgil didn’t feel very brave, let alone selfless. In fact… “I scared you,” he said in a small voice. He leaned back slightly to look up at Patton. Patton loosened his hold on him to allow him to do so. Patton’s eyes were tinted red, like he was trying to keep from crying as well.
“Maybe,” Patton admitted. He glanced away, then gave Virgil a watery, tired smile. “But that’s okay. You’re just scared, and upset, like anybody would be. You were just trying to get them to listen. I know you didn’t mean to scare me.”
“I’m sorry I got angry,” Virgil said quietly. “I said I wasn’t going to do that around you anymore.” He wiped at his face, looking imploringly at his friend. “I’d never hurt you, Pat.”
“I know, kiddo.”
Another surge of guilt welled up inside Virgil. Not only had he scared Patton, but only the night before, he had literally caused Patton to faint. And now he was claiming that he’d never hurt Patton? He already had. He seized Patton’s arms, feeling a desperate need to apologize again. “Pat—Pat, I’m so sorry about last night. I was stupid and inconsiderate and irresponsible; and I’m so, so sorry.”
Patton looked briefly surprised, then bit his lip, looking down. “It’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s not remotely fine.”
“You’re looking for your brother. You don’t have time to worry about me. It’s my fault, too: I should have said something sooner. I don’t want to hear you talk bad about yourself anymore.”
Virgil shifted. “Well… maybe,” he begrudgingly replied, even if it was just to please Patton. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He looked up at his friend, searching his face. “You really are okay, right?”
A tear slipped from Patton’s eye. “Yeah, Virge. I’m okay.”
Virgil nodded, several times too many. He took a long, shuddering breath. “I guess we should get down from here, huh?”
“Yeah, but…” Patton peered nervously over the edge. “How are we doing that?”
“We’ll go down through the wall,” Virgil said. He figured that would be the safest option. After that, to get on the table itself, they would probably have to use a rope and hook. Virgil had one with him, although it was a spare. Emile’s spare hook, actually. Virgil didn’t have one of his own, spare or otherwise. He figured Emile wouldn’t mind him borrowing it on this occasion. Virgil took a deep breath, got to his feet, and waited for Patton to follow. They retreated back into the wall together. Logan and Roman wouldn’t be back for a while; they had time to do this right.
…
“What the heck are we even going to say?” Roman asked as he trudged up the stairs, following after Logan’s much more precise and purposeful steps.
Logan paused. “I can’t say that I know. I believed that we were merely going to ask if anyone had noticed anything odd.”
“Well, yeah,” Roman sighed, leaning on the wall and blinking up at his friend. “But we’re probably going to have to be more specific than that.”
“Well… ah…” Logan pursed his lips. “Perhaps we ask about any mouse sightings?”
“Perfect,” Roman sighed. “And then everyone’s going to be hiding their food and putting out mouse traps. I’m sure Patton and them will love that.”
“There’s no need to be short with me. It was merely a suggestion.”
Roman sighed. “I know, I know. Sorry. I’m just tired.”
“If you have any ideas, I am open to hearing them.”
Roman looked up towards the ceiling. “Maybe….”
“Yes?”
“Maybe….”
“Roman, I swear, if you fall asleep on me in this stairwell—”
Roman groaned, shaking his head hard to clear it. “Thinking.” He straightened and looked back to Logan. “Maybe… we could say the landlord sent us? To ask about how things are going? Like checking in to make sure nothing needs fixing or replaced?”
Logan looked thoughtful. “Perhaps. That may even get us invited into the apartments. Although, we would ideally have to contact Joan, to coordinate with them about that. It would be quite the awkward circumstance, should one of the other tenants contact them to verify and they deny it.”
Roman groaned again, knowing Logan was right.
“I didn’t say ‘no’,” Logan pointed out. “Joan is quite amicable, and thus far we have been model tenants, objectively speaking. They may be open to committing a small, white lie on our behalf.”
“What do we tell Joan, then? We can’t exactly tell them the truth.”
“Well, no… but perhaps we could amend the truth slightly.”
Roman resumed climbing the stairs, catching up to his roommate, who kept pace with him as they approached the landing. He was starting to get an idea. “Maybe we could say something went missing from our apartment, and we wanted to talk to people to see if any of them had it?”
“That could work.” Logan smiled, seeming relieved. “I will send them an email,” he said, already retrieving his phone from his pocket. “They are generally quite timely with their responses, so it shouldn’t be too long before they reply….”
While Logan did that, Roman took a few minutes to collect his thoughts and think through what he was going to say to the other tenants. He was just now starting to hit his second wind—the tiredness fading for now, thankfully. Maybe it was luck, or anticipation of what they were about to do, or maybe it was just the caffeine kicking in more. In any case, Roman was glad. This was too important to be ruined by lack of sleep.
…
Virgil and Patton made their way down to the base of the wall, heading towards one of the entrances that Virgil had previously blocked off.
“How hard will it be to open up again?” Patton asked.
“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Virgil assured, glancing back at him. “I was more worried about them being able to find the doors than about us never being able to get through again.”
That made sense, Patton supposed.
“I brought a knife with me, so it shouldn’t take long with the two of us.”
“Why not just use the hook to get down?” Patton asked hesitantly. He knew Virgil brought one with him sometimes, including today, but he’d never actually seen him use one.
“Well… I suppose we could have used it,” Virgil conceded. “I just figured this would be easier.”
Patton rubbed his arm. “Okay.”
They fell into silence again for a bit. Patton didn’t like being left with his thoughts like this. As much as he was trying to keep it together for Virgil’s sake, he was also incredibly worried. He didn’t share any relation to Emile, but he was one of Patton’s two closest friends—and only friends, since the humans probably didn’t count. Emile had been so kind and patient with him, doing his best to take care of both him and Virgil without complaint. He deserved so much better than this.
Patton sniffled and willed back his tears. There wasn’t time for him to go falling apart.
Actually getting the doorway open didn’t take as much time as Patton had feared. Patton and Virgil dragged out chunks of insulation from the tunnel leading up to it, and then Virgil cut through the tape and glue holding the door—a piece of baseboard—in place. Overall, it took less than an hour to get down from the shelf and open up the door.
Virgil pushed the newly unsealed door open and peered out, instinctively nervous even though it wasn’t as if the humans didn’t know about them. Patton couldn’t blame him. A second passed before he stepped out, and Patton followed. They were only a couple of feet away from the table Logan had set out, and across the room from the table where Patton had once been kept.
Virgil approached the nearer table, Patton hurrying after. When he caught up, Virgil was inspecting the table leg. “Now… we have to use the hook,” he was saying, mostly to himself. This table leg didn’t have a design carved into it, like that of the table Patton had been kept on did. Virgil stepped back, and both littles noted with gratitude that at least the tabletop didn’t have a lip that they would have to clamber over.
Virgil glanced in Patton’s direction and gestured behind them. “Do you want to…?” Patton nodded, getting the message, and moved further away from the table. Virgil balanced himself against one crutch, removed his backpack, and pulled out the hook. A long, beige piece of twine was tied to it, the individual strands starting to unravel. Virgil shook out the string onto the floor, wound up his arm, and threw the hook. It hit the edge of the table and bounced off. Virgil flinched as it hit the floor two inches in front of him. He grit his teeth and tried again. This time, the hook went over the edge of the table; but when Virgil pulled at it experimentally, it slid right over the edge and fell back to the ground.
“Bit out of practice,” Virgil explained in a low voice, his ears going slightly red.
Patton didn’t say anything. He didn’t mind if Virgil missed a few times. After all, if Patton tried to do this, it’d probably take a ridiculously long time for him to get a good hold. He hadn’t used a hook since the day he’d first been caught. Plus, he got the feeling that Virgil wasn’t a huge fan of using a rope and hook in the first place. He carried one with him on important trips like this, but he never actually used it. He guessed the reluctance had to do with how his foot was injured.
Not to mention how hard it probably was for Virgil to focus on his aim at the moment, with everything going on.
Thankfully, Virgil had more luck on the third try. He pulled on the rope several times more than was probably necessary, to be sure the hook wasn’t going to come free.
“I’ll go first,” Virgil offered, shouldering his backpack again. He picked up his other crutch, and both littles approached the table.
…
Another two hours passed before the humans returned. Patton was dozing fitfully on the table top while Virgil paced back and forth, having adamantly refused to lay down. The bed, which they’d spent a good fifteen minutes putting together, was set up behind them.
Patton hoped that their efforts hadn’t been necessary. He hoped that Emile had just been trapped, that he had just needed someone to set him free.
At the sound of the door clicking open, Patton was immediately wide awake. He got to his feet, and both littles approached the edge of the table, waiting apprehensively.
Patton could hear two sets of footsteps approaching. But… they didn’t sound confident, or hurried, or even gentle. They sounded… reluctant.
Patton held his breath. No. Please.
The humans came into the room. Logan was first, tapping the tips of his fingers together, not looking directly at the littles. He had left his satchel in the kitchen. Roman followed after, looking practically dead on his feet. Neither of them were carrying anything as far as Patton could tell.
Virgil, at Patton’s side, had stiffened.
“Logan?” Patton whispered, finding that he couldn’t speak any louder.
Logan shut his eyes briefly, then turned to the littles. Roman collapsed on the sofa behind him without a word.
Logan took in the two littles, both very much on edge. He seemed to take pity on them, finally, and broke the tense silence.
“We didn’t find him,” he said.
…
Joan, the landlord, actually seemed quite eager at Logan and Roman’s request. They said that they really would appreciate it if Logan and Roman checked in with some of the other tenants—they were out of town at the moment, and they wouldn’t be able to talk to anyone in person for a few more days at least. And, they claimed, they were happy to help if something of Roman’s or Logan’s was missing.
“What a lifesaver,” Roman sighed, reading the email off of Logan’s phone. They had even sent a second email, a fake request that Roman and Logan talk to the tenants, for Logan and Roman to show if they needed it to convince someone of their intent.
“Perhaps literally,” Logan commented, mostly to himself. He locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket. “Come on,” he sighed, gesturing for Roman to walk in front.
“Won’t they be mad about the time?�� Roman asked. It was still only just past 7 in the morning.
Logan supposed he had a point. “We can say that we were hoping to catch them before work,” he suggested.
At first, things had seemed to be going well. The tenant in 5A let them in happily once she heard that Joan had sent them, answering whatever questions Roman and Logan came up with and even allowing them to check around for themselves to see if they could find any problems that she might have missed.
Roman and Logan concluded that she was far too relaxed and happy to have them there to be hiding a “mouse-man” anywhere in her apartment. They still checked behind and under the furniture, but they saw no sign of him.
The inhabitants of 5B didn’t answer the first time Logan and Roman tried their door, so they went up to the sixth floor with the intention to return afterwards.
In neither of the apartments on the sixth floor were the tenants as happy about the visit as the first woman had been, but they let Roman and Logan in after they saw Joan’s email. They even let the two of them look around, even if the man in 6A had acted like they were completely ruining his morning. Regardless, they got to search the apartments, including the places that the mouse-men had reluctantly identified as the most likely spots for Emile to be. Unfortunately, Emile was in neither apartment.
Logan emailed Joan about a cracked window pane in 5A and a burnt-out light bulb and some water damage in 6B, and then they walked back down to 5B.
“He’s got to be here,” Roman had said as they descended the steps, taking two at a time. “They’re the only ones who didn’t answer. Maybe they were ignoring us because they didn’t want us to find him.” Logan couldn’t help but agree.
When they reached the landing, however, that hypothesis was dashed. Both women were standing there, in the middle of unlocking their door. They had just gotten home from a vacation, luggage bags in hand. There was no way that they had trapped Emile.
They talked to the women, anyway; but, unsurprisingly, they came up empty. They didn’t get to search that apartment, since the women were clearly tired and not eager to have them come in, but Logan doubted Emile was in there. Based on a look Roman gave him, he felt the same.
Had they missed something?
Where could the missing mouse-man be?
What on earth were they supposed to tell the two waiting in their apartment?
…
They didn’t find him.
They didn’t find him.
Virgil sank down to his knees, the news repeating over and over in his head.
They didn’t find him.
He threw one of his crutches blindly, letting out an anguished shout. The humans had promised to help him, only to come back without Emile? After only three hours?
Virgil cried out again, not even caring that everyone was probably staring at him.
“Please—we haven’t given up,” the human was saying, sounding mildly alarmed. “The fact that we haven’t found him yet isn’t necessarily bad news.”
Virgil lifted his head, glaring at Logan through his tears. “Why did you come back without him?” he demanded. His voice was harsh, and his actual words were probably almost incomprehensible. But Logan would know what he was asking.
“I have to leave for a final exam in twenty minutes,” Logan said, his tone annoyingly reasonable. “Roman and I can continue our search when I return, a couple of hours from then.”
What the heck was a final exam? Why should Virgil care about that? It couldn’t have been more important than Emile!
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” Logan said. “But I cannot skip this exam. Besides, everyone is exhausted. It would be beneficial to take a break. Emile would want you to take care of yourself, would he not?”
“Take his name out of your god-damned mouth,” Virgil snarled, too upset to worry about the consequences.
Logan visibly faltered. He gave a single nod and left the room without another word.
…
As soon as Logan left, Patton turned to Virgil. His heart was still pounding as he approached his friend and sat down beside him, looking down at where his crutch lay discarded on the floor, over a foot below. That was a problem for later, though. For now, he focused on Virgil, who was staring at the floor with his jaw set.
Patton reached out hesitantly and touched his arm. He wasn’t pushed away, so he silently took his hand. His friend didn’t acknowledge him, but he also didn’t try to take his hand away.
“You shouldn’t yell at Logan,” a tired voice said. Patton looked up to see that Roman was watching the two of them through half-open eyelids. “We really tried hard to find him.”
“Could—could you maybe go back out?” Patton asked hesitantly. Logan had to be somewhere soon, supposedly, but no one had said anything about Roman.
“I suppose,” he admitted. “I don’t know how I’m going to convince them to let me back in, though.” He shifted against the back of the couch. “Plus,” he yawned, “it seemed clear to me that he wasn’t in any of those apartments. No one acted suspiciously in the slightest, and we checked in all the places your friend described. Or, most of them. That last apartment was a bit different, since the owners haven’t been there in a week. They only just got home.”
Patton felt a shudder go through Virgil and tightened his hold on his hand.
Roman groaned and reluctantly got up from the couch. “I’m going to go grab Logan.” He was halfway out of the room when he paused, looking down at the floor. “Oh….”
Patton followed his gaze and saw that he was looking down at Virgil’s fallen crutch, lying in two separate pieces on the floor.
Roman bent to pick up the crutch, and Virgil scrambled backwards, forcing Patton to let go of his hand. The human straightened, holding the pieces. He reached over and set them on the table, a fair distance away from the pair of littles, and left the room.
…
Patton fetched Virgil’s crutch and brought it over for him. While unusable at the moment, it didn’t look too badly damaged—easy to fix once they had the materials to do so—but Virgil couldn’t bring himself to care about that.
Not while Emile was still missing. Not while they were sitting in a human apartment, having a chat with the most dangerous creatures on the planet.
The humans returned after a few minutes. Roman had his hands on Logan’s shoulders, practically steering him back into the room. The two of them sat down again on the sofa.
“Everybody be nice, please,” Roman said, glancing between them all.
Logan sighed. “So, as I said before, we were unfortunately unable to locate your brother,” he began, sounding reluctant, glancing at the table like he expected Virgil to interrupt him. He didn’t, this time.
“That doesn’t mean we are giving up,” he continued. “I unfortunately have to leave soon, and I doubt Roman will be of much use alone if he doesn’t get some sleep.” He glanced at the other human, who gave him a sheepish look. “The two of you look exhausted as well. I believe taking a break will do all of you some good.”
Virgil was about to tell the human exactly what he thought about that idea, but Patton squeezed his hand, and he resisted. Barely.
“However, as I still have some time before I have to leave, I would like to discuss our plans for when I return. Your brother was not in the apartments we searched, but he could still be nearby. Is there anywhere else he might be?”
Virgil sniffed. “Like where?” he asked, frustrated.
“I know this is hard, but try to focus, please. Could he be anywhere other than those apartments? Say, the stairwells?”
Virgil shook his head.
“Perhaps the laundry room?”
Virgil hesitated, then shook his head again. Emile wouldn’t have gone to the laundry room. They didn’t need anything from there that they couldn’t find elsewhere.
“I know that you said he was going to the fifth and sixth floors specifically, but is there any reason he might have gone to—?”
Roman suddenly sat up straight. “Wait… is it possible he came here?” he interrupted.
Virgil flinched, jerking to look in his direction. “Why the heck would he do that?” he asked. “Besides… we agreed not to.” And yet look at you now.
The humans glanced at each other.
Logan coughed. “Well,” he said, his voice an unusual pitch, “judging by the timeline of events you gave us, and the lack of any sign of your brother being in the apartments we already visited, it is a possibility, albeit unlikely.”
Patton, still firmly at Virgil’s side, tilted his head. “Why—why would he do that, though?”
Roman sat forward. “I was thinking—Is it possible he used the shelf you arrived here on? Logan and I found the doorway there after a picture frame of mine fell the other day. Could he have knocked it over?”
Virgil shifted uncomfortably.
“Sorry,” Patton said awkwardly. “But… that was—that was us.”
“Oh,” Roman said, wilting with disappointment. Then, like he’d been shocked, he sat bolt upright again. “Oh! That means… you two…?”
…
Patton nodded to confirm Roman’s thought. He figured that it would only hurt Roman’s feelings to tell him that he and Virgil hadn’t actually been planning to tell humans that they were visiting, however, so he didn’t.
“Putting that aside for now,” Logan said, glancing at Virgil. “Is there anywhere else in the building that your brother could be?”
Virgil didn’t answer immediately, so Patton did instead. “Emile talked to him—” he pointed at Virgil, “—before he left. He said he was going to the fifth and sixth floors. Right?” Patton prompted. He wasn’t sure of the exact wording that Emile had used, and he didn’t want to assume. Although, he couldn’t see why Emile would have taken the trip to the upper floors if it were anything he could get on the fourth floor, or why he would have gone down to the second floor without stopping back at home. Of course, Virgil also knew the building layout better than Patton did. Maybe Patton was forgetting something.
“Right,” Virgil confirmed softly. Patton frowned, uncertain if his friend had actually paid attention to the question.
Roman groaned. “Well, then what do we do? We already talked to everyone.” He flopped against the back of the sofa. Patton frowned again, reminded of how exhausted Roman looked. Apparently, it wasn’t just he and Virgil who hadn’t gotten much rest the night before. Logan was the only one among them who looked remotely well-rested.
Logan glanced at the clock. “I need to leave, unfortunately,” he said. “If you think of any other possibilities for locations that E—that your brother might be, please let me know once I return.” He got to his feet. “I recommend that all of you try to rest until then. I understand that you might find doing so difficult, but it will help.” He seemed unable to help but look at Patton then, and in an even softer voice, he added, “It is good to see you again, by the way, as unfavorable as the circumstances may be. Roman and I have… missed your company.”
Patton didn’t quite know how to respond to that.
“See you later, nerd,” Roman mumbled, and Logan left the room.
…
Once they were alone, Roman looked over at the pair of mouse-men. They were sitting close together, Patton practically pressed against his companion. They were both thinner than Roman would have liked to see; and even if Patton looked much better than when he’d last seen him, he still felt that Patton looked rather pale. Were they doing okay?
Well, Roman reflected, that’s probably a stupid question. Of course they weren’t doing okay. Not with Emile missing.
But… maybe now was an okay time to ask about Patton? They had to wait for a while, anyway, so hopefully Roman wouldn’t get interrupted again.
He cleared his throat softly. “So… so, Patton?” he asked.
Patton looked up.
“How are you doing?” he asked. “Other than… other than all of this, I mean. Are you okay?”
Patton seemed to hesitate, but he nodded.
“Do you have enough to eat at home?”
For some reason, that seemed to be a sore spot for Patton, who seemed to wince slightly.
“What’s wrong?” Roman asked, forcing himself to sit up.
“Nothing—nothing,” Patton said quickly. His companion shifted at his side, but he didn’t say anything. Roman couldn’t read either of their expressions from here.
“Okay,” Roman murmured. He had a feeling it wasn’t actually nothing, but he didn’t push the topic. He was tired, and the two mouse-men were under enough stress already. He let himself fall back against the sofa again, but he made sure the movement was gentle enough to not scare the mouse-men. “Then… are you feeling better? You were still sick last I saw you.”
Patton nodded. “I’m better,” he confirmed. “Mostly.”
In another development that Roman didn’t understand, Patton’s companion lowered his head, swallowing hard.
“I’m really glad to hear that,” Roman said truthfully. He did his best to stifle a yawn, failed, and lifted up one hand to cover it. He lowered his hand back to his side and blinked slowly, his gaze drifting up towards the ceiling. “I think… I’m gonna fall asleep now, if that’s okay with you two?”
Roman didn’t get an audible response, so he just let his heavy eyelids close.
…
“…to eat before we go?”
“That’s… that’s real kind of you, kiddo; but I don’t think either of us is very hungry.”
Roman shifted, his eyes fluttering open. A shape came into focus in front of him: his roommate, seated in a kitchen chair with his back to Roman.
Roman pushed himself up against the back of the couch, rubbing at his eyes. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Ah, Roman. Did you sleep well?”
Roman looked around. A blanket had been laid over him, and the lighting in the room was dimmed. Logan was sitting in front of the table under the shelf, talking to the mouse-men, who were sitting together there.
“When’d you get here?” Roman asked, looking at his roommate. “Why didn’t anybody wake me up?” He was surprised he hadn’t woken on his own: Logan was normally the heavy sleeper, not him.
“Our visitors and I were just discussing where we might be able to find his missing brother,” Logan explained. “I only returned about fifteen minutes ago. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to let you sleep until we had decided where to go.”
Roman pulled the blanket off of himself and set it to the side. “Well, did you decide anything?”
“Possibly. Patton seems to believe that among the remaining floors, Emile is most likely located on the fourth.”
Roman yawned into his hand. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. Why the fourth, though?”
To his surprise, Patton was the one who answered. “M-my friend and I think he was d-done on the fifth—on the fifth and sixth floors. I don’t—I don’t know why he would be on the fourth floor, but… I know he wasn’t be-below that one.”
Logan frowned slightly.
Roman glanced towards Patton’s companion. He was just staring down at the tabletop, not saying anything. That was probably not a good sign.
“Is your friend okay?” he asked, frowning.
Patton looked sad. “He’s just… he misses his brother. And neither of us really got much sleep last night.”
Roman was trying to figure out how to reply when the mouse-man in question lifted his head and looked straight at Roman.
“I’m fine,” he said, his tone allowing for no argument. “I just—he’s not on the fourth floor, okay?”
“What would you suggest, then?” Logan asked, his voice as nonthreatening as he could make it. Roman could tell he was trying hard to be patient.
“You—you said you skipped an apartment. 5B, right?”
“Well… not completely. We talked to the women who live there, and neither of them have been there this week.” Roman ran his fingers through his hair. “They couldn’t have caught him.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not there,” he snapped. “It just means they didn’t find him.”
Logan looked over his shoulder at Roman. Roman shrugged. The little guy had a point.
“We can try again there before we search the fourth floor,” Logan sighed. “But I can’t promise anything.”
Patton looked relieved, but the other mouse-man simply rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, as agitated as before. “Can you just go already? Please?” His voice was strained. He was close to snapping again.
“We can go,” Roman said quickly. “Yeah. Let’s go, Logan.” He got up from the couch. “I’m feeling much better.”
Logan glanced between Roman and the mouse-men on the table. “Yes, of course. We will be back soon.” He got to his feet, and the two of them departed.
As the two of them walked back up the stairs, Logan cleared his throat. “Roman, I know we agreed to check the fourth through sixth floors only, but do you believe it would be beneficial to check the others? They said that that their companion did not travel below the fifth floor, but that doesn’t negate—”
Roman put his hands up in surrender. “I don’t know, L. Maybe there’s some reason he wouldn’t be there.”
Logan sighed. “Perhaps.”
…
When Logan got back to the apartment, he half expected the two “mouse-men” to be gone, disappearing again while they were away. It would have hurt, of course, but at least then he wouldn’t have had to look them in the eye and tell them that he and his roommate still hadn’t found their brother.
Logan wasn’t one to overly emote his feelings, but he had to admit that that was a painful exchange. To see the hopelessness in the two small creatures’ eyes, the way Patton enveloped his friend in a hug even as tears sprung up in his own eyes.
They decided to call it off for the day. Logan was surprised that Patton’s companion agreed to it. Perhaps he was simply too tired and grief-stricken to argue.
“Do you want something to eat before you go?” Logan asked. He could do that much, at least.
It looked like the “mouse-man” was about to disagree, but Patton put a hand on his arm and whispered something that must have changed his mind. And so, Logan found himself in the kitchen, making a meal for what would likely be the most awkward dinner of his life.
They ate in silence, Logan and Roman in kitchen chairs across from the table like a parody of the dinners they had used to have with Patton. Patton and his friend only picked at their food, but after the meal, Patton gathered up some of the more transportable portions and put them in a bag that they had with them.
“Thank you,” Patton whispered. Then, with much more hesitancy, he asked, “Would you—would you mind leaving? J-just for a bit?”
Logan realized that Patton didn’t want them to know how they got out of the room. They must have had some other entrance into the walls besides the one on the shelf.
“Of course, Patton.”
…
Patton and Virgil travelled home in silence. The trip took much longer than usual with Virgil only on one crutch, and they were both spent by the time they got home.
Virgil was reluctant to put a pause on their search, but he had to admit that they needed to stop at home for a while. The supplies to fix his crutch were there, and there also remained the distant, nagging possibility in Virgil’s mind, one he couldn’t quite shake, that Emile well might just show up back home on his own. There was also one other, somewhat urgent matter they had yet to deal with: the rat that had broken in the day before.
Virgil turned on the lights and looked around. Unfortunately, Emile was still not there to greet them. Instead, they were met with their ruined food stores lying scattered across the floor, knocked over furniture, and even a couple of rat droppings. The aftermath of the intruder.
“You go to bed,” Virgil said quietly. “I’m going to fix my crutch and then get this cleaned up.”
“You sure?” Patton asked. “I can do this. You should be getting some sleep.”
“Patton….”
“I’m feeling better, okay? Besides, I took a nap earlier. I’m not sure if you slept at all last night.”
“I did,” Virgil said truthfully, even if it hadn’t been for very long. “Just… please.”
“Vir—”
“I can’t, okay? I can’t sleep. Not while I know he’s out there, and he’s probably hurt, or—or worse, and I just can’t.”
Patton looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine,” he said wearily, “you win. At least lie down when you’re done, though, okay?”
Virgil nodded, not meeting his eyes.
Patton left, and Virgil got to work.
…
It only took him about ten minutes to fix his crutch, thankfully; but it took considerably longer to clean the house. Virgil had to throw out everything that the rat had ruined, take stock of what little was left, and right everything that had been knocked over.
Finally, with that done, he sat down on the floor, and just took a second to look around the house. Most of the drawings had survived the rat’s rampage, and they hung as ironically cheerful banners about the room. They fluttered slightly in a breeze that came in through the open door, mocking him for his naivete.
Virgil sighed, glancing down at his newly repaired crutch. He shouldn’t just be sitting here. At this point, he didn’t hold much hope that they would find Emile, let alone find him alive: the two of them never had found their father’s body, after all. It wasn’t uncommon for littles to just disappear. But he had to try. Emile wouldn’t give up on him. Virgil couldn’t give up on him, either.
It wasn’t like he was going to fall asleep, Virgil reflected. Maybe he could go back up to the upper floors, to search more himself. It was still daytime, but he could be careful.
He was about to get up when the lights flickered, one of them turning off for a second.
Virgil looked up at them with a frown. They’d been doing that a lot lately, hadn’t they? He watched them for a moment, and they did the same thing again. One of the lights nearest to the door seemed to be the issue.
A thought struck him. Virgil slowly looked down at his right hand, sitting in his lap. He rubbed at the tip of one finger with his thumb. There was still a small scab visible on it, where he’d stabbed it with a needle the day that Emile had left. A result of these same flickering lights.
Virgil felt like he’d been submerged in a bucket of ice water.
He knew where Emile was.
#sanders sides#thomas sanders#infinitesimal!sides#sanders sides fan fiction#fanfiction#ts fanfic#virgil sanders#patton sanders#roman sanders#logan sanders#emile picani#infinitesimal fic#sanders sides g/t
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a very fkin long and incomplete exposition of my flaws as a human being
I've not really spoken about the probably most consequential event in my recent life (the ending of a long term relationship), and that's because I haven't really thought about it very much. At least, not in a clear-headed space not entirely filled with rage, fear, or initially, longing. So, I've mostly just been waiting for the intensity of those responses to wear out before I can go back and make sense of things in a sorta 'safe' way.
(These days it's mostly anger and/or hurt. Sometimes twinges of hatred, but those fizzle quickly. I know that attitude isn't 'true'. I tried to hate him, I really did. Things would be so much simpler that way — an obvious villain of pure evil, a mistake worthy of contempt. Put him behind me as someone I regret meeting and consider everything only as a flashing warning sign of what to avoid next time. But real life never is that easy, is it.)
Regardless, reading about miscellaneous psychological ~stuff, I realised that I know for sure now that there are sides of me that only come out in a close relationship, as they postulate. It's unfortunate that my exposure to this was only in such a toxic environment, and I'm not sure if or when closeness has any chance of happening again.
I suspect, based on what I have/haven't felt with him vs others, that I can (at least at this stage of my development) only really feel 'seen' by an antisocial/narcissist/schizoid (or something in that general direction), just hope to god it's a mature one next time. I might want to interrogate and possibly change that fact, I'm not sure it's at all a healthily arrived preference. But...
there is a degree of normalcy and social belonging in others that becomes a wall
I can relate superficially, cognitively and even 'deeply personally' (tho is all y'all's deeply personal shit necessarily relational?), have a good time and even feel 'connection' but there are parts that seem simply insurmountable.
The lack of relating to many things is the unifying factor between me and the specified groups: the shared experience of not having shared experiences
But yet, a more acute awareness of superficiality, and the drives and mechanics of human interactions, attitudes, identity and constructs, not taken for granted as default but built from the ground up (Most often out of either necessity or a desire to manipulate them, but still).
Actually, most straightforwardly, the shared experience of experiencing oneself as an outsider to society — whether people personally, accepted norms or expected attitudes towards self and other.*
Anyway, that was a whole semi-tangent I went off on (useful and relevant to the initial thought but not the point I was planning on).
Important point was...ah yes, insights!
...into how I behave under genuine relational circumstances. Due to aforementioned toxicity, I'm not sure how generalisable they are to relationships overall, but they should generalise to feeling-states.
1.
(a) Fear. Defensiveness.
Switches off my brain. Obvious? No. I have been actively strategic while having a gun pointed at me. I thought I had that down. Turns out, I cannot dissociate myself out of an argument most of the time.
Turns out, just the fact or even prospect of arguing activates panic and brain goes out the window. Which is really fucking stupid as an occurrence because how many of these could be prevented with a bit of mindfulness and thoughtful responding. But getting emotions to chill out for long enough to do that is tough.
(b) I am a stubborn dumbass. Kid me argued until they were attacked so harshly that they absolutely could not continue. The alternative presented was to just keep silent, one I did not then and do not now accept. Discussion where both parties partake in good faith have generally been fruitful, only neither of these situations were that. Both involved one person trying to dominate at all costs. To which I suppose keeping silent for the moment and then running tf away is an appropriate response.
Idk. I'm not sure if this is a 'normal situation' to which I respond unhealthily, or an 'abnormal situation' in which you just do your best to survive. Arguments are normal. Idk if other people have a less aggressive approach that is less outright terrifying, in which I can modulate, but it does seem like people want to prove you wrong and get angry, which I perceive as aggression.
2.
Which brings me to boundaries. Can I shut things down when I'm overwhelmed. In the present case, the answer was no. They both didn't stop and the fact that I asked for this was interpreted as admission of defeat.Oftentimes, getting out of the situation was more of an ordeal than dealing with it.
[We stayed at a hotel the one time and he did things that made me very uncomfortable (in like a “things that I shudder at thinking about even now” kind of way; not sexual btw which this has made it sound). I thought I was as clear as I could’ve been by saying, “I’m going to legit have a breakdown if you keep doing that” but apparently it came across as a joke (gotta improve on communication as well). He stopped and apologised when he realised I was crying, but later blamed me for not being more assertive and laughed at my ‘exaggerated’ response and “meltdown”. At this point I wanted to leave and go home, but he withheld [my copy of] the key. He insisted and manipulated and coerced for discussion, said I could have the key if I “really wanted it, but do I actually want that”, until it was just easier to give in. The helplessness and feeling trapped of that evening haunts me to this day, and I want to be very sure to never be in any situation where that is even a possibility again no matter what.]
I need to get better at knowing what is and isn't okay and being strong enough to enforce that.
3.
(a) Attachment is a bitch. Utterly unfamiliar sensation, one I don't know my way around at all. The rarity of relation makes it seem so fucking precious, so fucking necessary to protect even to my detriment and his. Dare I tip the boat or will it sink. Should I be the dancing monkey to keep it from sinking. Should he.
(b) The feeling of giving a damn what someone thinks of me is also foreign and difficult. It also seems hella intensified by virtue of not existing elsewhere. Disapproval feels devastating. Criticism becomes attack. Everything feels like a continuous effort to establish worth. I'd imagined acceptance could be taken for granted, but I questioned it the whole way (obviously doesn't help when he demands changes).
(c) I have trouble distinguishing between personal issues and insecurities and legitimate reason to be upset. I think this is typical. But with trial and error, one can probably pick up on what you carry with you across differing people and circumstances. I don't have that data. I have nothing to compare against. I also suspect some parts of this is him treating legitimate reasons as being my distorted perceptions, which I'm pretty sure did happen for a few things that I believe are 'objectively' shitty.
5.
I trust. Too. Fucking. Much. I take shit at face value. This is very often dumb and...bad in literally every sense, but I don’t yet know how to identify preemptively when that's the case. I also fail to be adequately 'suspicious' I guess to be alert to minor inconsistencies later on. Lies are especially devastating. I built my reality around you using that fundamental premise. Now you tell me it was false all along. Where does that leave me? I go back to substitute and nothing makes sense. I don't know if the initial statement was a lie or the claim that it's false was. I don't know if everything I remember is just distorted somehow. I don't know what to do. (aside: gaslighting? I’m inclined to say “effectively, yes”. The best explanation I have is that for many things he rewrote the narrative in his own mind and does not remember the things that blatantly contradict it. For other things, I cannot see that being possible and am forced to think it’s just pure lies). All of this could have been prevented if I accounted for people being dishonest.
6.
(a) I lose sympathy. Genuinely did not ever expect this to happen. Enough hurt, enough deception and I stop trying to understand why. I assume malice. I expect malice in future interactions and misread situations as a result. In the beginning I made fucktons of effort to be understanding of things far from my typical range (hello, admissions of past violence and present homicidal ideation. Hello, talking someone out of real intention of ruining a person's life over a minor slight). Honestly, I think I overreached. Some of these things were not things I should have tolerated, accepted even. When I started walking on eggshells to not have him ruin my life, too, that was probably when I should've gotten out. He claimed that the people he cares about are exceptions. That's probably true, otherwise I would currently be in a ton of shit. But at some point I did stop believing it.
(b) I don't really think that most of the things that happened were malicious. Some, he admits, were. But mostly he wasn't out with the intention to hurt me, but he also didn't make the effort...not to. Even with me repeatedly complaining about things, he was defensive or dismissive, considering me talking about an issue to be me creating issues in his life. This is super shitty, his damage is caused by a stubborn ego fixation and sheer passivity, thoughtlessness (he has agreed to all of this in our final conversation), but it isn't exactly intentionally malicious. If he genuinely didn't believe there was a problem, that is an issue, and the fact that he utterly failed until the end to even consider the possibility of a valid complaint, is a very real flaw. He is bad insofar as "he is lazy and incompetent at being good". Which I can understand but nevertheless protect myself from. Ideally, sooner. At the point where I start feeling like someone is being shitty more often than not, something needs to happen. A discussion, a reconsideration, a run-as-fast-as-you-can... Something.
Idk. This isn't everything. But yeah.
.
.
.
* These 3 PDs are often used in illustrating the idea of pathologising difference: few of the criteria are about subjective distress and many about extrinsic value judgements of what a person should be like (lol, my clinical psych final had an essay question on this). I don't necessarily agree but it does speak to a shared thread of...something.
That said, this characterisation is tbh still too broad for my liking. Importantly, it is definitively applicable to autistic people but I do not in general relate to that in the same way. Some specific manifestations of it, yes, but I have seen far too many excessively... 'human' autistic people to include the whole category. There are probably folks in the PD categories who are also like that but I think much less common.
#personal#emotions#reflections#relationships#personality disorder#possible tw abuse idk#if you're actually interested in reading probably best to do so tomorrow#not sure why I'm posting now in the first place#will reblog when I update#also needs links those are important
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Tips For An Effective Investigation
Consistence officers are in charge of leading examinations as the aftereffect of hotline reports. Be that as it may, the truth of the matter is, directing a full examination of a potential infringement of law, controls or strategy is rare. By and large, this prompts avoidable errors that may trade off the examination and, in a few, occasions bother conditions.
Barely seven days passes by without an issue, emerging from these missteps, is drawn out into the open and a demand to discover remediation to the subsequent issues. This occurs so as often as possible, I chose to give a few hints to the individuals who direct examinations.
Tips on Managing an Investigation
Completely Debrief Complaints Promptly. Major issues can be misused by permitting excessively time between the documenting of a grievance and questioning the complainant. Recollections blur, get mutilated or get affected by resulting occasions. Any distinguished complainants ought to be completely questioned rapidly, with regards to the premise of their charges, concerns, and protests; and any supporting proof to the claims ought to be accumulated quickly.
Need to Know Guiding Rule. The general guideline for all examinations ought to be under the "need to know" standard. This implies all talks with respect to the examination ought to be confined to just those that need to know. Under this core value there ought to be no sharing of data in regards to the predication, heading, or discoveries of the procedure with any unapproved parties.
Remain Independence and Objective. The way toward leading the examination must be seen as an autonomous request free of outside impact. There must be a reasonable and fair-minded survey of every pertinent truth.
Incorporate Management's Perspective. Frequently objections and charges are settled on about administration's choices and activities. It is critical to incorporate administration's perspectives as a feature of the report and not depend heaps of staff.
Exercise Discretion. It is basic that the consistence officer be tactful when gathering relevant certainties and proof. Especially in a bound workplace where the work environment "grapevine" moves quicker than the examination. This "babble" can undermine the exertion in compelling meetings with people. Along these lines, practice prudence while choosing locales for meetings to abstain from catching or guess regarding what's going on.
Abstain from Using Original Documents. Every single unique record that are evidentiary to the case ought to be labeled, logged, and put in a safe document. All meetings where such records are pertinent to the procedure ought to be with duplicates, not unique reports.
Control and Track All Cases. All hotline reports from complainants or generally ought to be date-stepped, logged, and numbered as a major aspect of the Compliance Office's records the board approach. Archive Control. All records of examination ought to be held carefully guarded control in a restricted access zone. Having data around a functioning or past examination go off to some far away place can make a gigantic issue and potential obligation. Very frequently, records are left open or on display. Losing power over proof, records, or notes of meetings can be a major issue.
Pursue a Chain of Custody. All proof got amid an examination must be followed and never outside the control of the agents. This is alluded to as keeping up "chain of authority" and inability to do this may result in the proof being addressed or refused in a formal adjudicative process.
Remain Focused yet Flexible. Examiners should never dismiss the reason and goal of the examination. This implies remaining concentrated on elements identifying with the grievance and not be diverted by superfluous data. It is basic to remain concentrated, yet not to the point of being unbendable. Ordinarily, the examination should adjust to changing reality examples or conditions. This isn't intended to strife with the past point, yet to perceive that in specific situations that straying from the rules and analytical arrangement might be vital. Remaining too barely engaged may bring about missing considerably more huge issues than those that predicated the first examination. Much of the time the examination may distinguish related issues to the first objection or charge.
Be Comprehensive and Detailed. There is just a single shot with regards to examinations. Thusly, it is important that everything is done well the first run through. It must be far reaching enough to answer every one of the inquiries brought up in the predication, and also adequate to recognize any unavoidable or methodical issue that may have caused the issue.
Work to Prevent Retaliation. The most exceedingly bad result of any examination is one that outcomes in countering or revenge against the first complainant or witnesses. This issue is … For more in-depth information about investigations.I highly recommend this website discreetinvestigations.ca
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All the Time in the World: Chapter 4
There was nothing more exciting than good science.
Actually, that probably wasn’t a universal feeling. But since he wasn’t one for finding excitement in adventurous ways, Barry maintained that science was the most pleasantly exciting thing he could possibly engage in. Nothing got his heart pumping like theorizing and testing and ultimately coming up with conclusions that gave satisfactory answers to the major questions of life. Having answers was the best feeling.
The worst was explaining them.
Continued under the cut, or you can read it on ao3
“So our recorded state-”
“Wait wait, our what now?”
“Recorded state.”
“Oh. No wait, sorry, what?”
Barry sighed heavily as he dragged his hands down his face. He wasn’t necessarily irritated at Magnus’s questions; he was just completely exhausted. He’d spent much of this seventh year attempting to understand the “cycle” that the IPRE had found themselves stuck in, how and why they kept being reset after exactly 365 days had passed. The why wasn’t exactly clear, but months and months of long days and late nights had more or less lead to an understanding of how it kept happening. Definitely worth it, but draining nonetheless. But he couldn’t complain too much; he hadn’t had to shoulder the task alone.
“You know that wicked black eye you always have at the start of every year, Magnus?” Lup asked from beside him. “And that scratch you have on your forehead, Merle?”
Both men instinctively reached up to touch the spots their respective ailments always appeared, and then nodded as Lup continued. “You had those when we left home, and then the Hunger came and destroyed everything. It somehow screwed up the planes, and when we passed through ours, our state of being was basically stitched into reality. So every year when the Hunger comes back and we leave the plane, we’re reset to exactly as we were. Magnus has a black eye, Merle’s got a scratch, and I’m standing over there, Taako’s next to me, and so on. Recorded state.” She looked at Barry then, smiling. “Right?”
He smiled back. “Right.”
Barry could think of at least ten different ways to break the ice and become less awkward around your coworker, and all of them would be better than “have a break down in front of them and cry on their shoulder”. Unfortunately, cycle five had forced him to do just that, but somehow that had worked for them. Now almost two whole cycles later, he could actually look Lup in the eye without combusting from his own awkwardness. Though she didn’t seem like she would be, Lup was interested in science, and their individual skills complimented each other to the point that he worked better with her than by himself. If one good thing came out of the mortifying situation from that shitty year, it was that he now had a partner, and he was definitely grateful for it.
“Fascinating.” Lucretia stilled the pen in her hand and looked up from her notebook. “Do we have any idea how to break the cycle?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Barry answered her. “That probably has something to do with stopping the Hunger, and we have no clue how to do that.”
“Yet,” Lup added, sounding eager.
“Yet,” Barry repeated with a chuckle.
“Well, you did answer quite a few questions that we had, and for that I commend you,” Davenport told them. “I’m sure we’ll learn more in the next cycle, but you’ve done well in this one, and you should be proud of yourselves. Keep it up.”
Barry nodded and stifled a yawn. Lup stood completely straight and raised her hand in a dramatic salute. “Aye aye, Cap’n Port.”
Davenport groaned quietly and suddenly looked just as tired as Barry felt, but he didn’t protest the nickname. He’d given that up a while ago. It was harmless, after all, and Barry suspected that he secretly relished the joy that it brought Lup, Magnus, Taako, and Merle to call him that. For his part, Barry tried not to laugh. How did Lup have so much energy and where could he get some? Maybe a nap would help.
As Davenport dismissed them and the group dispersed, Barry thought maybe he’d do just that. They didn’t have much time left in this cycle and they’d already found the Light, so maybe he had time for a small break. He yawned again, unable to stifle it this time, and felt himself sway to one side as he closed his eyes. Maybe he could just sleep standing up and not have to move anywhere.
He startled at the sound of a giggle from beside him. “You going to just fall over or what’s your plan here, Barry?” Lup looked way too amused to pull off the pitying look she was trying to go for.
“I thought about falling over,” he replied, slightly embarrassed, as he rubbed the back of his neck. “But I guess right here on the floor wouldn’t be very comfortable.”
“Sounds adorable, though.”
He tried not to overthink her use of the word. “Either way, my bed sounds better.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” She lightly punched him in the arm, not hard enough to hurt (much) and gave him a small wave as she walked off. “Eat dinner with me later!” she called over her shoulder.
“Will do!” he promised, rubbing his arm.
As he made his way to his room, kicked off his shoes, and crawled into bed, a small thought in his sleep deprived brain cursed the fact that it wasn’t dinner time yet. Which was stupid. He wasn’t at all hungry.
As he drifted off to sleep, he rubbed his arm again, even though it no longer stung.
~
“You know what doesn’t follow this whole recorded state rule? My hard candies.”
Barry almost choked on the water he’d just taken a sip of. He looked at Magnus seated beside him. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying not to laugh.
“You and Lup said that we keep going back to our recorded state whenever we leave the plane. But I guess it only applies to us and not, like, objects, because I never see my supply of hard candies that I brought with me from home restock.” Magnus sighed then. “Also, I’m almost out.”
“Unfortunate,” Taako, sitting across from him, snorted.
Honestly, trust Magnus to worry about things like his hard candies not regenerating along with his own body. But that was fine; not everyone needed to be filled with anxiety over the possible consequences of their states of being, as Barry was trying not to be. It’s not like he knew what those could possibly be.
“It’s a tragic loss, Magnus, really,” Lup said from her seat beside Taako. “Rest in pieces, candy.”
Barry did laugh at that, as did Magnus and Taako. “Yeah, thanks, Lup,” Magnus chuckled.
She winked at him, then the four of them fell silent as they continued eating. After a moment, she broke the silence once again.
“Any guesses on what the next world is going to be like?”
Right, they had thirteen days left before the Hunger came. This world hadn’t been so bad; the inhabitants were nice, if a little distrusting at first, and it hadn’t been that hard to find the Light since it had fallen pretty close to the Starblaster. But there were still some complaints.
“Whatever its like, can it just not rain all the time?" Taako whined. “It makes my hair frizzy and I can’t pull that off. Actually,” he paused for a moment, thinking. “I can. But I don’t like it.”
“It has been pretty damp,” Barry agreed.
“I’m all for better weather,” Lup said. She then smiled enthusiastically in Barry’s direction. “We can have more adventures that way!”
And by “we” he knew she meant the two of them. There had actually been two positives that came from his meltdown. Not only had he gained Lup as a partner, he had also gained her as a friend. Or maybe it just made him realize that Lup was already his friend, despite the fact that she was way too cool to consider him one. It really made no sense to him, but he cherished that friendship anyway, and all that came with it, including Lup’s version of affection.
Once Barry started actually spending time with Lup, it was obvious that she’d been attempting to show him this affection all along. She punched him in the shoulder or she tousled his hair, and these actions generally proceeded her calling him adorable. Or cute, or something similar. And once he learned that that was Lup’s way of showing him she cared, he stopped blushing profusely over it.
It didn’t, however, stop the overwhelming fondness from creeping across his heart.
He tried not to melt under the blinding smile she gave him now, or shrink away from the gazes of Magnus and Taako, whose presence at this moment, for no particular reason, made him squirm in his seat. It’s not like they knew how cheesy he was.
“We’ll have plenty, weather be damned,” he said, making it very obvious how cheesy he was.
But neither of the other two men seemed to notice or care, as Magnus changed the subject to his hope that the next world would at least have hard candy somewhere. Barry listened as he argued with Taako about the possibility of the elf either making him some through magic or normal means, and Taako claimed that idea to be a gross misuse of either of his skills, thank you very much. To diffuse the situation, Lup interjected with a conversation she had with “Cap n’ Port” about wanting to come up with better ways gain the confidence of the inhabitants of the worlds they visited, since they seemed to have issues doing so.
Barry nodded. “Cap n’ Port’s right, though, that’s-”
“Who now?” Taako asked, attention snapping to Barry immediately, clearly delighted.
“I-no, um,” Barry stammered, realizing his mistake. “I mean-”
“That’s our captain, Barold!” Taako held his hand dramatically to his chest in mock offense as Lup and Magnus snickered.
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, its very funny,” he conceded, blushing only a little. He should learn to think before speaking. Or stop hanging around Lup so much.
Lup stood and leaned over the table towards Barry and rubbed his hair. “Cute,” she giggled.
As she sat back down in her seat, he reached up to pat his hair back down, trying not to blush any harder as he made eye contact with her. She smiled at him affectionately.
Think before speaking it was.
#the adventure zone#blupjeans#barry bluejeans#lup#taz balance#barry x lup#stolen century#all the time in the world
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Haro is going to open that can of worms a little, so here we go.
I know within Social Justice circles, there is a general distrust or even outright hatred of the Police. This is not without warrant, because the history and origins are ugly as fuck and there continues to be injustice throughout the country. There’s many shitty, horrible officers out there and many departments that are run on pure crap. I won’t deny that, because I know from personal experience there are some real pieces of crap wearing the Badge.
But here’s the thing.
As someone that sort of dances between these two worlds, I see a lot of things that both sides miss. I see both the overall broken system, the genuine grievances that people are rightly bringing up, AND the good people that are so often stuck in a position to be unable to actually speak, and the things which people concerned about the system should know about and support. I see the way things CAN and SHOULD be, some of the steps that we as a whole need to make to deal with these problems.
Because one thing people don’t seem to realize is how Police Officers, even more than a civilian employee like me, are under constant Gag Order. They don’t get to speak their true feelings, are expected to hold things in, and behave in a professional manner even towards shit-bags. Not all do, we know that well enough. It’s a disgusting reality we know too well.
I see a lot of “Police are protecting/supporting White Supremacists!” based on things such as standing guard over an area or not arresting them on the spot. The reality is that it’s often a task undertaken with considerable frustration, teeth clenched while hoping Higher Ups can work shit out. Often, it’s not about “protecting” those douchebags so much as preventing confrontations that could result in counter-protesters being hurt, sued, charged with assault, and/or targeted for social media campaigns.
Here in Virginia, all you need to do is fill out a Criminal Complaint and go to the Magistrate to press charges against someone. In many cases, police get cases we know are bullshit and can’t just immediately toss out until the Magistrate or other court personal give the thumbs up. That’s how you ended up with the C’ville protesters that got arrested on Assault charges, which were later dropped or acquitted. What happens is the Magistrate issues the paperwork, and goes “Go serve it/arrest this person”. There’s no discretion on the officer’s part.
I mentioned positive things, so here we go.
Our previous Crime Statistics person was an awesome woman, who was VERY passionate about Community Policing. She fought tooth and nail with officials to protect programs aimed at involving officers in the communities they patrol. As a black woman from an urban community, she understood the realities of military-style policing and the mistrust that builds in communities. She worked her ass off to champion programs and events to get officers involved, and actually learning about the people of those communities and their stories/needs.
Another program everyone should push for in their communities is Crisis Intervention Training (or CIT). It is an incredibly valuable training program, that teaches officers about how to evaluate and de-escalate situations with people in distress. Our department in particular requires everyone to be trained, as we handle a lot of psychiatric crisis calls. The training focuses on teaching them to recognize the symptoms of various disorders, and to UNDERSTAND how these conditions may impact a person’s ability to function.
In flipping through an industry journal, I saw an article talking about one training method involving officers having to complete tasks and follow verbal commands while wearing special headphones. These headphones were programmed to randomly play sounds, mimicking the experience of Auditory Hallucinations. This way, the officers would gain a little understanding about how disorders that impact perception of reality can disorient or frighten a person. The program focused on first teaching them what it was like, and then progressed into methods to help the person. Ways to modify body language and tone of voice, the importance of appearing calm/reassuring, and being particularly careful to actually LISTEN to the person and demonstrate to them that you are hearing them. The kinds of questions to ask, and which to avoid. Avoiding any sort of judgment, while looking to find a way to address the person’s concerns.
These are just two examples, but I think there isn’t enough discussion about the good things that we should support and encourage. There’s good ideas, programs, and models that should be explored and supported.
It isn’t enough to just go “Fuck the Police” or otherwise simply be angry. Anger alone won’t change things in the long run, when this is a system that will not be completely destroyed. It is one that needs to be changed, reshaped, and encouraged to grow in healthy directions. It starts with finding more progressive things, and pushing for THOSE to become the norm. Training programs focused on De-escalation. Increased use and development of non-lethal equipment and techniques. Making CIT a nation-wide requirement.
These kinds of things are a good start. But a broken system can’t be fixed just by screaming that it is broken, and deciding that anyone involved is an evil enemy.
#politics#oh boy the can of worms#haro's thoughts on law enforcement#seriously there's tons of cool ideas and programs#that need to be advocated as the Norm#if we want to improve a broken system
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