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commsroom · 8 months

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memoria is incredibly close to my heart, but when i listen to it now, it's hard not to think about the undertones re: how therapy as an institution handles disability. maxwell's objective was always to help hera get back to work, to find accommodations she could function under, or otherwise to replace her. "i'm sorry you feel like you can't do your job." maxwell presents her solutions in a less hostile framing, but her methods are the same ones cutter threatens hera with in her live show performance review (re: deleting her memories) and it's something she intends to do regardless of hera's consent. maxwell's practice aligns with goddard's interests, and of course it does. there's something about therapy as maintenance, and the treatment of the disabled mind and/or body as a broken machine.

hera is used to being condescended to and taunted for her limitations ("we all have our limits. you can't do what you can't do. it's not your fault.") and that intersects with her trauma ("i can't do this. i'm not good enough.") in a way that inherently ties her self worth to her ability to be useful and perform a job. as a result, she has a gut reaction to and a resistance to anyone suggesting she might not be capable of something, or that she might need help, and that makes her constantly push herself past her limits, causing real damage. the problem is that hera is disabled, there are things she can't do, and she hasn't been given the security or compassion to really come to terms with that. no amount of ways to manage doing her job will really help the core problem; she needs to be able to separate her concept of self worth from her productivity. "we get things wrong, and we get better." is a nice sentiment, but i think it applies more to interpersonal conflict than physical burnout. hera even directly calls back to and casts doubt on that specific line later in the show.

that's why eiffel matters so much to hera. when eiffel says "you can do anything" - he believes that, he has that kind of sincere faith in all of his friends, but he means it even when it's disproven. he's seen her fail. he's seen her make mistakes. it doesn't matter because it isn't about what he expects of her, it's about who she is to him. minkowski is the commander, even when she's not. hera can do anything, even when she can't. eiffel values people, not their jobs. if hera didn't have a supercomputer for a brain, she would still be the same to him; it's who she is and her companionship that he wants. i'm not saying that what maxwell did for hera was useless - it's effective therapy that gave her a clearer understanding of herself, and a framework to understand what's been happening to her; that's extremely valuable. but that alone would not have been enough. what hera thinks of at the end of memoria, what actually pulls her through, is the support and care that eiffel and minkowski continually show to her.

#wolf 359 #w359 #hera wolf 359 #there's a lot you can say about um. doctors. in wolf 359 #while i think the writers are pretty pro-therapy and some of this was probably not directly intentional #there is an awareness of worthiness wrt capitalism and productivity in the show that i think seeps through #even if they didn't mean to critique it in quite that way. it resonates.#this is my life and you don't get to rewrite it to fit what you need...

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ticklystuff · 4 months

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Your #1 Fan

summary: “do you know rex lapis? bet you don’t”

wc: ~1k

a/n: hbd zhongli!

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Who.. was this?

Well, no, not exactly "who". The face was quite recognizable, in fact. Rather, the question he should be posing to himself was not "who?" but "what was this?"

"Have we seen this one before, Xiansheng?"

"No, I don't believe so."

Zhongli took a step back, allowing himself a better view of the unfamiliar figure. The statue was unlike the others littered about Liyue, forgoing the signature look of the seated throne for a more imposing stance, an image that Zhongli wished to distance himself from now that he had entered a new quieter stage of his life. Still, despite the glaring differences, he could not deny the feat of such impressive craftsmanship, the efforts illuding any passerby into mistaking the statue was indeed levitating on its very own.

"Aren't you able to resonate with the statue in some way?" Childe pipped up, his voice just as curious as Zhongli's.

Zhongli shook his head. "It seems I am unable to detect any elemental energy, even faint traces. Perhaps what we are observing is just the work of a.. fanatic. The biggest fanatic I've seen in all my years."

The scoff that left Childe's mouth was when Zhongli realized his mistake. "Really?! A bigger Rex Lapis enthusiast than me?!" Childe crossed his arms with an upturned nose in over-the-top fashion. "Xiansheng, please don't even suggest that someone like this could possibly exist."

Here we go.

"I believe I misspoke-"

"Yeah, you did," Childe interrupted with a wag of his finger, smugly tilting his head. "Did this supposed fanatic ever get the chance to spend time with the Rex Lapis himself on his birthday? I don't think so."

"You may have a point," Zhongli nodded, an exasperated yet amused sigh slipping past his lips, choosing to let Childe go on his little tirade. He would be lying if he said he didn't find these spontaneous outbursts at least somewhat entertaining.

"Of course I have a point," Childe responded matter-of-factly, continuing without pause. "And does this fanatic know all about Rex Lapis' daily habits? Or his favorite spots to take a stroll? How about his go-to meal for when he's feeling down?

"No, if I were to hazard a guess."

"Precisely!" A familiar competitive spark gleamed in his eyes as Childe spoke. "And besides, another thing I wanted to point out-!"

The unexpected push of Childe's arm around Zhongli's shoulder was nearly enough to make Zhongli collapse, but he managed to catch himself as Childe ushered them forward, allowing the two a better view of the statue itself.

"Though from a glance, the statue seems to be well crafted, further inspection would prove otherwise!"

Zhongli tilted his head as he played along, attempting to follow along with Childe's critique, but no, the statue looked quite like him. "The statue is a striking image of Rex Lapis himself, no? Care to elaborate?"

"Well, if you insist Xiansheng," Childe nodded, confident smirk on display as he pointed to the statue's midsection. "Take a look at his midsection. It looks a bit off, doesn't it?"

Save for the obvious difference in clothing choices, or lack thereof, that Zhongli wouldn't dare to wear in the current era, nothing about the statue's chest struck him as out of the ordinary. Zhongli took many glances, instinctively looking between his own midsection and that of the statue, but he still couldn't quite follow along.

"See the difference?"

"I think you're going to have to explain this one for me," Zhongli said with the shake of his head, looking at Childe expectantly.

"Fine, fine," came the sigh from Childe's mouth, directing Zhongli's attention back to the bare chest of the statue. "His waist, see? It's not the same."

"I still don't understand what you mean?" Zhongli put his hand to his chin, perplexed by what exactly Childe was trying to point out. "It seems like a normal chest- hrrk!!" The unexpected sensations of something wrapping around his waist caused his voice to cut out, sending a tingle down his spine.

It took a moment for his brain to register that those were indeed Childe's hands clinging to his waist.

"Well, you see, Xiansheng," Childe spoke as if nothing had occurred, while Zhongli fidgeted in his grasp, "it's really obvious to me how much they managed to mess up the proportions. For example, the statue's waist-"

"Haa-aHH!" The sudden squeeze around his waist was enough to solicit the unsightliest of sounds, prompting Zhongli to cover his mouth, squirming like putty in Childe's hands.

"-is much bigger than the actual thing in real life," Childe continued, seemingly unfazed by the giggles that accompanied the way his fingers incessantly dug into Zhongli's midsection. "Notice how my fingertips are nearly touching? An actual enthusiast wouldn't forget about the real Rex Lapis' tiny waist!"

"A-Ahahaha! AjahaHAHAhax! Wah-! Stahahap!" Hearing himself being described in such a manner certainly didn't help things, flustering his face with crimson while Childe kneaded along the "tiny" waist, the heat rushing to his brain and morphing his words into discrepant babble.

"Oh, and another thing?" Zhongli couldn't help but yelp at the feeling of fingers now skittering up his right side, nearly reaching the crook of his underarm. "They're missing my favorite spot— the little mole right here!" How Childe was able to pinpoint such a flaw at a distance was beyond Zhongli's understanding, not that he had much of a chance to ponder due to all the attention Childe was giving to his "favorite spot".

"EhehehAHAHAhaha!"

"But do you want to know something that only a real enthusiast would know?" Childe mused, his voice laced with mischief as he rested his chin on Zhongli's shoulder, allowing the other to throw his head back in laughter. "Only a real fan would know just how ticklish the real Rex Lapis is."

"Okay, okahahahay! I gehehet ihihit!" His hands slapped at the ones that exploited his various sweetspots, ensuring that Zhongli wouldn't escape the current predicament as anything but a giggly mess. Once Childe took mercy and released his hands, Zhongli quickly backed away, doing his best to shoot the other a stern glare, yet the smile he wore from the lingering phantom giggles betrayed him.

"Was all that.. really necessary?"

Childe smiled, an innocent one he didn't deserve. "I just wanted to make sure you know that I'm the biggest Rex Lapis fan out there."

#chili #childe #zhongli #genshin impact #tickling

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recaffeine · 2 years

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3/7/2022

My inner critique began when I was a young child. I felt targeted by a group of friends and fell while we were play sword fighting. As I felt the smooth concrete floor beneath me, I started to think, why am I so sensitive? Why must I cry so easily? They would never deliberately hurt me, right?

My compassion grew.

"They would never mean to hurt me." I softly assured myself.

There must have been something wrong with me I thought. I have always grown up with heightened senses. Even when I wasn't physically hurt, I felt the pain. Once, my mother hit me in my early years. I must have been maybe 6.

I had a puffy jacket that was so plush that I could not even feel her strikes. She wasn't trying to physically hurt me. Yet I cried. I cried because her intention was to hurt me. Her intention was to teach me a lesson. I must learn. I must repent. So I did when I did best. I cried.

Fast forward to my teenage years; I began to learn more about emotions and the best place to explore emotions was in a relationship. A relationship is where you can truly learn the inner machinations of someone's world and in many ways your own. I empathized and I sympathized with of my past lovers. I wanted them to feel heard. I wanted them to have a safe place to air out their hearts. They did. Every one of them did. They opened their world to me and I saw the darkness and I gave them comfort when I didn't run. I never ran even when they did. Some relationships were healthy. Some were so toxic that we could have starred in our own romcom. At the worst, even when I was cheated on, I stayed because I knew where they were coming from. I knew their trauma made them do it.

The idea of an HSP(highly sensitive person) resonates with me. I stayed because I could feel their emotions. I could feel that they didn't have control. My mother did not know what to do. My friends did not know what they were doing. When my exes hurt me, I knew they did not have control of what they were doing.

So what did I do? I excused it. I understood and I allowed them to reign free. I paid a price.

The price was was quite high and the price was me.

There must be something wrong with me. There must be something that I did to make this happen. I saw the light in them. So much so that it blinded me from their darkness.

That is where my inner critique originated from. My austere inner critique descended from the stormy thunderous clouds with the harsh tone of my father; the helplessness of my mother; the form of me.

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