#i am open to finding out the truth. but i also am aware that diagnosing someone can be tricky when there’s a lot happening at once | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

comradekatara · 3 years

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the gaang + how well they would do on the infinity train?

this is suuuper hard because there are so many factors to take into consideration. first is obviously the train itself. the train's function in a metanarrative sense is to serve as a vehicle for storytelling, dissecting & deconstructing the process of a narrative and how a character's arc is propelled by their circumstances. the train supposedly functions to improve its passengers, and yet we also know that The Train is a deeply flawed mechanism that can corrupt and further traumatize its passengers just as much as it can "fix" them. when the train invites you in with the single-minded goal of getting your number to zero, assuming you ever disembark, you're probably gonna be left with even more trauma than when you arrived, or at the very least, weirder trauma.

grace wanted to be seen, but instead of learning to value herself for her own intrinsic worth instead of relying on validation from those around her, she was enabled by that validation and literally started a cult. likewise, since jet is basically a less heinous version of simon, i see him taking a similar path to the apex (though he would of course name them the freedom fighters) trying to overthrow the tyrannical one-one and reinstate the True Conductor. he would think his path is righteous. he would think he is protecting those kids from evil. who knows what would happen once he learns the truth.

then there is the matter of what the train wants from you. the train arrives at a pivotal moment in one's life, when they are at an emotional crossroads and need a catalyst for growth. for example, jesse's problem was relatively small (because he is perfect) but hurting his brother caused him emotional turmoil nonetheless, so the train stepped in. this means that to answer this question properly, i would have to answer not only when the train arrives for them, but why, and seeing that every single atla character carries massive amounts of baggage (most of it flavors of trauma that infinity train has not addressed), this proves extremely difficult. i have to identify the most narratively satisfying moment in each character's lives to have the train arrive, and then i have to make assumptions about which cars would propel them which way (emotionally). you're asking me to outline nine different fanfictions.

only jet's character feels similar enough to any of the characters we've seen in infinity train for me to even have an inkling as to what path he would take. while sokka and tulip are quite similar as people (rational, scientific yet creative thinkers who over-rely on logic over feeling, are deeply loyal, and instinctually blame themselves for the problems caused by others), their character arcs themselves have little in common. both aang and hazel experience a tragic loss of pure, childhood innocence (which is why i cry over both of them every day), but in relatively dissimilar ways (at least appa gets to return to aang). min-gi and zuko are both pressured by their upbringings to conform to a standard that makes them miserable to please their parents, only to ultimately embrace their own passion & truth... but not only do those arcs play out completely differently, zuko and min-gi are completely different people, and if anything, zuko's approach to life is far more like ryan's (ie, jumping off a cliff and hoping he lands on his feet).

but what i think you're really asking, at the end of the day, is how emotionally mature, self-aware, and capable of positive growth is each atla character? because how am i supposed to know what the train would do to their psyches, considering each external situation would shape them differently, and unless i'm supposed to meticulously craft fanfiction for each one of them (which i wouldn't be opposed to doing, but only for one character, i simply cannot do all nine – also, i'm surprised infinity train AUs aren't more common, but then again i'm not particularly familiar with fanficition, so maybe it is!), it would only be an approximation, in which i identify their core problem (which again, is not how real people work, or even how atla characters work, but how The Train works) and then analyze how long it would take for each of them to solve said problem.

so, that was a very long-winded preface. without further ado:

aang's main problem is that he keeps running away from his problems, which is to say, distracting himself from the enormity of his grief. personally, i would say his coping mechanism isn't the worst. after all, he experiences so much world-shattering pain in such a short span of time, and he does deserve to preserve his childhood and his innocence for as long as possible. but, for the purposes of the narrative, the train must necessarily disagree. he must confront his grief head-on, without distracting himself from it or flying into a destructive rage that he'd only regret later. it also depends on who his companions are. with katara by his side, he can get through anything (and vice versa), but it's unclear who will be there to guide him through his pain. that said, i know he'd make it through okay. he's aang. he has to.

katara lives in a fairytale. like i said with aang, that's not really a bad thing. she's a great kid with big dreams and a big heart. she wants to save the world, and – guess what! – she does. but living in a storybook strips one's worldview of the nuances of life, not simply the harsh realities of the world, but also the full extent of one's personhood, outside of simply the black and white worldview of heroes and villains. katara's apotheosis is when she confronts yon rha, looks him in the eyes, and sees a human being staring back at her, another human being. she is no longer in a revenge tale. she is out of stories to tell herself. (life doesn't make narrative sense.) ironically, the train is a metaphor for storytelling, so katara coming to realize that she isn't in a story would both be confusingly meta and also fucking brilliant (if i do say so, personally). i don't know how exactly it would play out, but by god i would pay to see it.

in many ways, sokka is remarkably open-minded, and in many ways, sokka is extremely stubborn. i think he'd come to terms with his own emotional growth (which would be rooted in learning his own self-worth) faster than he'd come to terms with the train itself. "okay, fine, yeah, i deserve love regardless of what i can do for other people, but WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PLACE?!?!?" his journey through the train is actually everyone else's dream experience on the train. passengers and denizens alike keep falling in love with him (or at the very least, admiring him more than they've ever admired anyone they've ever met), but he doesn't even notice because he's too busy being extremely suspicious of everything he comes into contact with. yes, he'll solve your problems and puzzles and help people and make meaningful connections and eventually he might start to realize that he is worth something even when he's alone, even (especially) when he's being unconventional or "weird" or "selfish." but even once he does get his door, does he walk through it? oh no, he takes it apart and tries to figure out how it just created a fucking portal. so while he would technically "do" quite well, he is never leaving that fucking train. rip sokka.

well, toph needs to learn to accept and embrace her own vulnerability. she definitely goes through that same crystal karaoke car tulip did. that, or the train just tortures her by putting her in increasingly more painful situations in which she must ask for help. but that's too awful to even think about, so i'm just gonna say she has to sing karaoke.

zuko needs to learn to trust his instincts and his own internal moral compass instead of the external pressures being forced upon him by his Father (capital F to emphasize that his nation & his father – aka the patriarchy – are one & the same for him, lmao). and he would fail. a lot. but eventually he would realize that his number goes down when he lets himself be himself, and he would leave the train happy. he probably also gets a bunch of cute little talking animal companions to guide him through. he deserves it.

the train appears to suki while she's having a breakdown in solitary confinement at the boiling rock. she finds healthy ways to cope with being put through hell while on the train, and by the time she gets off, she's being let out of solitary. it is a very rewarding experience, and one that she can swear wasn't just some hallucination. she's constantly telling herself yes, of course it was just a hallucination.... but still... it felt so real....

if i had to diagnose azula with one singular problem that plagues her at the core of her very being, it would have to be her fear of rejection. but it's not good enough to just keep having train cars reject azula, she has to accept that rejection, instead of just intimidating people into submission after the fact. she needs to understand why she is being rejected, and be fine with it, and learn from it, instead of letting her lack of universal perfection in every area anyone could ever excel in shake her to her very core. when ty lee proved that she secured the affections of dumb stupid boys better than azula ever could, she did an arson to cope (which of course is still very valid of her uwu). azula needs to learn to come in second place, third place, even last place, and shrug it off, think to herself, "hopefully i'll do better next time, and if not, that's okay also," and once that happens, everything else will fall into place. though maybe she could read bell hooks or smth at some point on the train cuz i think that could help too.

mai needs to stop being so goddamn depressed all the time. has she tried lexapro, or perhaps using a lightbox in winter? her favorite coping mechanism, knives, only helps her feel something some of the time, but most (if not all) of the time she's still being expected to play a part. has she tried, like, being herself? i heard from zuko (you know, the guy? from the train?) that "being yourself" works wonders. so the train gives her that opportunity. and she actually even enjoys herself for once in her miserable fucking life.

omg there must've been some sort of mistake ty lee was totally sent here by accident because she's actually super happy all the time and doesn't have any problems!!!!!!!! jk, can u even imagine? ty lee hates her life too, she just doesn't go around advertising it like mai does with her big dyke boots and depressing eyeliner. but apparently she also needs to learn how to "be herself," whatever that means. as if life isn't a constant performance, you know, like jacques said or whatever. she sees mai on the train. she rolls her big beautiful brown eyes. "oh god, not you too."

#obeetlebeetle #fuck this took me over an hour to write #asks #the gaang and #analysis #AUs #synthesis #mailee infinity train au when.....#sokka is the only one who dies on the train. unfortunate. aunt wu was right once again.#god this question was hard #so many factors to consider #i want the mailee season tho #and i want it NOW!

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informationsorter · 3 years

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How to keep yourself safe from fear mongering and misinformation.

I know there's a lot of fear mongering out there, which feeds on misinformation and the common anxieties of those who have (or suspect they have) a disorder such as DID/OSDD.

The first rule is of course, do not trust anyone on the internet.

This includes me.

Fear mongering is when someone spreads fear and/or terror. Usually with a hidden agenda, but it can also be spread by those who don't know any better and who have been caught up in the fear. If someone is describing a terrifying situation (especially one that starts out seeming fine, but gradually becomes scarier and scarier until it reaches dystopian proportions), it is likely that it is just a fear mongering tactic. An example of fear mongering is "Gay marriage will lead to adults marrying children!". It usually involves multiple steps, which start out with a grain of truth, but twist the facts or use false equivalencies to make it seem as though their worst-case scenario is a real danger. The aim of fear mongering in this example is to convince people to vote against marriage equality. Inspiring fear in a person can also be used to scam that person. How many times have you heard of someone getting an official-sounding phone call which tells them they will be arrested if they don’t send such-and-such amount of money to them, or if they don’t purchase giftcards and give the codes to the scammer on the phone? It is the initial shock and fear which cause a person to fall for these. Fact checking is vital.

Fear mongering.

- Take a moment to overcome your initial emotional response. You need to be able to think clearly and logically when you are confronted with something that shocks and scares you. - Try to think about their argument/statement rationally and objectively. Is it likely that in this day and age a therapist would illegally force a treatment on you without informing you of all of the facts about that treatment? Would a mental health professional risk a lawsuit and the loss of their licence by refusing to answer your questions about a treatment that they are insisting on? - Check for sources, and it is very important that you not only READ their sources, but also look for other sources by yourself. The source/s supplied by a fear mongerer will often support their statements and seem fairly convincing, but actually contain very little fact. You need to do an independent search for information which supports their claims, and information which contradicts their claims. If there is no truth to their claims, you will struggle to find reputable sources which support it, and are likely to find many that have evidence showing that the claim is false. (There is of course the chance that something is true but does not have sources for it - eg 50 years ago, there may not have been many official sources supporting the idea that being gay is fine, and there would have been many official sources claiming that being gay was a disease.)

Do not take any one person's word as fact.

- Check for reliable sources that back their statements.

- Look for multiple opinions/input, from a variety of sources. It's no good asking 10 people in the same group for their opinions and then taking it as fact if they all agree. If you are searching for information, you need to take everyone's advice/input/opinion with a grain of salt, and seek a wide variety of people to ask.

- If someone claims that such-and-such is the ONLY possible way to experience something, you should look into why they are claiming that, and what reliable sources they have to back it up.

- If something is really a fact, there will be SEVERAL reliable sources discussing it. Not just one source being reblogged or referenced by multiple other sources.

Check sources.

- Look at whether the person is actually linking the direct source of their "facts" or not. If they are simply claiming that such-and-such says this, or vaguely indicating that a certain government or organisation supports their view... That's not good enough. You will have to actually research it yourself and see whether that is the case or not.

- Be cautious if someone has quoted something but does not tell you where the quote comes from.

- Look at the full quote, not just the part that the person has quoted in their post/statement. It can be easy to take things out of context, and make it seem like the source supports a certain view, when in reality it does not.

- Actually open the links if someone is citing them as a source that supports their statement. It's very easy to assume that because someone has cited multiple sources, that those sources are accurate and relevant. But in reality, it would be quite easy to simply link a bunch of random official-sounding URLs, that actually have nothing to do with it.

Check credentials.

- If someone is claiming to be a therapist, scientist, or anyone working in a medical field, you should not believe them unless you are seeing them in a professional capacity IRL.

- You are

ALWAYS

entitled to see the qualifications of someone who is treating you, whether it is your GP or a mental health professional.

- If someone online is claiming to be a trained mental health professional, but is not treating you in an official arrangement, they should not be giving you in-depth advice or diagnosis.

A mental health professional should always get to know you and your background before giving you advice. THEY WILL NEVER ATTEMPT TO TREAT YOU OR DIAGNOSE YOU WITHOUT ENTERING INTO A FORMAL PATIENT-THERAPIST ARRANGEMENT.

Seek a trusted person to help you fact check if you are having difficulties.

A lot of sources may contain heavily jargoned text, especially when discussing medical conditions/disorders.

Find someone who you know you can trust, and who is willing to admit when they are mistaken. Ask that person to help you.

DO NOT TRUST ANYONE WHO REFUSES TO ADMIT THEIR MISTAKES.

- Watch out for people using gaslighting tactics, or deleting conflicting opinions from their posts. There are some people out there who insist that they are correct, and will refuse to acknowledge any information which contradicts their statements. These people may use gaslighting techniques to supress anyone who tries to question what they've said.

- Any one who is working from a place of good intent, will be open to looking at reliable sources which contradict their statements.

- Similarly, if anyone tries to convince you that you DON’T need to check their sources, or that you can trust them without them providing sources, THIS IS A RED FLAG.

Is it ok to test someone?

In my opinion, when you are searching for accurate information, it is perfectly acceptable to test someone by asking them something you already know the answer to.

For example, when I went to the endocrinologist to talk about HRT, I asked her my most important question and she responded in a way that didn't match what my doctor had said.

So I tested her by asking a question I KNEW the answer to.

She answered incorrectly, and I knew that I would have to work hard to get accurate information out of her.

Here are some sites to help you fact check.

Scholastic.com

has an article aimed at children and teens, which is easy to understand and read. (It was also written by adults trying to use “hip” slang.)

https://choices.scholastic.com/issues/2019-20/120119/howt-to-fact-check-the-internet.html

Wikipedia

has a list of fact-checking websites, which may or may not be useful.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_fact-checking_websites

Middlebury Libraries

has a short list of non-partisan fact checking sites.

https://middlebury.libguides.com/internet/fact-checking

And finally, I am aware this is a clumsy post, fuelled by an emotional response.

PLEASE reply or reblog with any information, links, tips, guides, etc regarding fact checking or protecting yourself from fear mongering.

**********************************************************************

This post was inspired by

THIS POST,

which builds on a common fear amoung those with DID/OSDD, and drives people away from seeking help, for fear of losing themselves.

**********************************************************************

Here is what you should do

if your therapist is trying to force you into fusion.

If your therapist is trying to trick you into undergoing a treatment without giving you information, or refusing to give you all relevant information - YOU SHOULD LEAVE IMMEDIATELY AND SEEK LEGAL ADVICE.

Here is a bit more information about

possible end goals you may choose

during therapy.

#did #dissociative identity disorder #actuallydid #actuallyosdd #osdd #actually multiple #actually traumagenic #information did

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snelbz · 4 years

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The Ranch {13}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

It was way too early for Cassian’s alarm to be going off, if he couldn’t remember anything from Rhysand’s wedding.

Fuck, his head killed. And his chest. And, shit, his entire body.

He realized the beeping wasn’t his alarm at the same moment he remembered what had happened.

With a sputtering cough, Cassian woke up and groaned.

He was in a hospital room, lying on a cot. His body was hooked up to monitors, so many things wrapped around him and poked through his skin that he wasn’t sure what they all were. He wore a hospital gown and a thin blanket was draped over his legs.

Every inch of his body throbbed.

He tried to say something, but nothing came out.

He slowly turned his head to one side. An empty chair sat there. Then he turned his head to the left, where Feyre and Rhysand laid together on a couch.

It was their fucking wedding night, and it was being spent covered in his blood, laying on a shitty couch.

“Rhys,” he said, but his voice was quiet. He tried, again. “Rhys!”

Rhys’ eyes fluttered open, and after a second, they focused on him. “Cass, shit. Are you okay?”

Cassian’s eyes found the bottle of water on the low table in front of Rhys.

“Shit,” he breathed. He kissed the top of Feyre’s head, shaking her lightly. “Baby, wake up, Cass is awake.”

She was up, blinking rapidly. “Cass!” Her eyes immediately welled with tears.

Rhys stood, opening the water bottle and carefully giving Cass a drink.

He cleared his throat and said, voice rasping, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Feyre sat on the edge of the cot and took Cassian’s hand gently in hers. “For what? Are you kidding me?”

“I ruined your day,” he said, eyes closing as his fingers wrapped around Feyre’s.

“The only person at fault is Tamlin,” Feyre breathed, wiping her tears away. “I’m just glad you’re awake.”

Her voice broke on the last word, causing Cassian to open his eyes and give her a reassuring smile. “You can’t get rid of me yet.”

A laugh bubbled out of Feyre as Rhysand said, “If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.”

Cassian looked at his best friend, at the guilt plainly written there and he shook his head. “No need. You’d do the same for me. Besides, who knew that asshole would pull out a fucking gun?”

Cassian tried to sit up but cringed, his whole body full of shooting pain as he decided to just stay put.

“Just rest,” Feyre said, gently.

“Is Nesta here?” Cassian asked.

Feyre frowned, but it was Rhysand that said, “She’s in the room across the hall.”

Cassian stilled. “What? Why? What happened?”

“She was just dehydrated,” Feyre said, her hand still in Cassian’s. “Apparently she’d been puking her guts up all day yesterday. Which makes sense, I guess, but I had no idea. I should have been paying closer attention. If I knew, I would have made her relax.”

“She was puking?” Cassian asked, then looked at Feyre with a confused expression. “Why would that make sense? Make sense of what?”

A panic look formed in Feyre’s gray-blue eyes. “What?”

Cassian slowly took his hand out of Feyre’s. “You know something.”

“I do not,” she protested, crossing her arms.

Cassian slowly looked from Feyre to Rhys. “Why is your wife lying to me?”

But Rhys wasn’t looking at Cassian, his head was in his hands. Feyre said, “I’m so sorry, it slipped out. I’m just so tired, and it was such a shock that-.”

“What is going on?” Cassian demanded, grunting as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “Why was Nesta admitted? Is she okay?”

Rhys sighed. “They suggested we not tell you yet. The bullet missed your heart by millimeters, Cass. Any lower, and you wouldn’t be here. For that reason, they don’t want you dealing with any stressful situations and-.”

“Nesta’s pregnant.”

Rhys turned to glare at his wife, who shrugged, but Cassian only blinked once, twice, processing. He shook his head slowly, saying, “We can’t have kids. Nesta can’t have kids.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, but the words were distant to his own ears. “She told me she can’t conceive.”

“I know,” Feyre said, quietly. “She was told she couldn’t, Cass, but they ran the test and she’s pregnant.”

Cassian's lips snapped shut as a thousand different emotions flooded through his body. “I just… I don’t… I need to see her. Help me up.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Rhysand said, shaking his head. “You were just fucking shot.”

“Don’t care,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “I-.”

“I’ll get her,” Feyre said. “Just...stay put. Alright? She’s in shock enough as it is, both from what happened and finding out….” Feyre’s words trailed off, exhaustion making her shoulders slump. “Just rest, and I’ll be back.”

Feyre slipped out the door and left Cassian and Rhys alone. “I’ll have Az get some clothes and whatever else you’ll need and bring them over to the house so we don’t have to stop on the way home.”

Cassian was only half listening. “What? No, I’m not staying with you.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Yes, you are. You were shot in the chest less than 24 hours ago.”

“I can’t leave the ranch,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. To him, it was. “And I’m sure as shit not leaving my pregnant girlfriend there by herself.”

“Cassian, don’t be a dumbass, you can’t-.”

“No, don’t try that shit. You’d be doing the same thing, if the roles were reversed, and you know it.”

Rhysand scowled but didn’t correct him. “I’m the one with medical experience. Nesta’s not-.”

“She can handle a list of instructions, Rhys,” Cassian muttered. “And I can take care of myself.”

Rhysand’s head fell back, exasperated. “Stubborn ass.”

“Prick,” Cassian mumbled back. A moment passed before Cassian said, “If I need you, I’ll call. Besides, you just got married and have dealt with enough shit. I’m not intruding.”

“It’s not intruding if-.” He saw the look on Cassian’s face and sighed. “Fine,” Rhysand said. “But I’m not going to be happy about it.”

“I’m aware,” Cassian said, but now he was grinning, just a little bit.

That grin faded quickly, though, as Cassian looked at the empty doorway, waiting for Nesta to walk through it.

Rhys asked, “Are you okay?”

Cassian knew he wasn’t asking about the gunshot wound. He didn’t answer for a minute because he didn’t know. “I just… I don’t know.” He dragged his good hand down his face. “You don’t think she lied to me, do you?”

Rhys was shaking his head before the question was out. “No, she wouldn’t do that. But also…” Rhys had the decency to look at least somewhat guilty. “I might have had Viv pull her file and I looked through her medical history. She was diagnosed as ‘infertile’ at twenty-two, at a women’s clinic in France.”

Cassian knew he should be pissed at Rhys for the invasion of privacy, but at least knowing that Nesta hadn’t lied to him eased some of the panic he felt rising.

He nodded, slightly. A minute later, Feyre came back into the room, a pale Nesta behind her. One look at Cassian and her eyes were misty.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Rhysand muttered, taking Feyre’s hand and escorting her out.

Nesta didn’t say a word as she walked to the side of the bed and plopped down in the chair that Feyre had been sitting in.

He turned to look at her, doing his best to hide the pain on his face whenever he moved his left arm. Or the left side of his body. Or his entire body.

“Tell the truth,” he said, wishing she would look at him, instead of at her bare feet on the floor. “Am I sexier now that I’m a hero?” She laughed, but it sounded more like a sob and when she looked up at him, there were tears running down her face. His voice was soft. “Baby…”

“I was so scared I was going to lose you,” she cried, unable to stop the rough, body-shaking sobs.

He pushed himself to the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Hey.”

She looked up, eyes red, and she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, cringing as he pulled her into him. She was gentle, careful for the wound as she buried her face into his neck.

“Feyre said she let it slip,” Nesta said, words muddled against his skin. “But I’m too shocked to be pissed, even though my reaction should be to kick her little ass.”

Cassian huffed a laugh, keeping perfectly still as his arm slid around her. Every ounce of his body cried to call for the nurse and get more pain meds in his system, but he’d wait. “Nesta-.”

“I promise I didn’t know,” Nesta said, voice quiet. “I promise I was told, years ago, that I couldn’t get pregnant, Cass.”

She leaned back and he caught the genuine fear in her eyes. He felt ashamed for doubting her, even for a second.

“I know,” he breathed. “I trust you.”

“I…” she sighed, shaking her head, her words falling short. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, taking her chin gently in his hand and forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m not mad. Shocked, completely fucking shocked...but I’m not mad.”

They sat there for a moment, looking at each other, not saying a word. Neither of them had said it yet, but they were both thinking it.

“We’re having a baby,” Nesta breathed.

Cassian took a deep breath and nodded. “We’re having a baby.”

She could see he tried his hardest not to, but the grin was infectious. She began to smile as well. The tears slowed, but didn’t stop.

“I’m scared,” she said, voice small.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, brushing the wild wisps of hair out of her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m going to be there, every step of the way. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere, alright?”

She nodded.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he went on, that low voice soothing. “I’m scared, too.”

She met his gaze with a wistful smile. For a moment, neither of them said a word, but then Nesta frowned. “What the fuck are you doing? Lie back down. Does the nurse even know you’re awake?”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “I am lying down.”

“All the way, against the pillows,” she ordered, already on her feet to reach for the remote on the side of his bed. She pressed the nurse call button.

He groaned. “Nes, I’m fine, they’ll probably release me today and-.”

“You took a round to the chest!” She said, voice rising.

She didn’t want to cry anymore, but damn it, every time she closed her eyes, she would see him lying in his own blood. “You have to take it easy,” she said, after taking a deep breath. She placed a protective hand over her still flat stomach. “We both do. Doctor’s orders.”

Cassian’s jaw locked, but he nodded, nonetheless. “Fine.”

The door swung open and the nurse came in. She gave Cassian a bright smile. “Glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” Cassian said, that grin returning.

The nurse chuckled. “Well, the doctor is allowing you to go home today. He has prescribed you pain meds and wants to make sure you don’t live alone.”

Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but Nesta was already saying, “He doesn’t.”

“Good,” the nurse said, taking Cassian’s vitals. “You’ll need to take it easy for the next few weeks. I’ve made you a follow up appointment for next week. Other than that, no physical activity of any kind. Your doctor will tell you more at your follow-up, but until then, rest as much as possible. Even if the meds are working really good and you feel like getting up and doing stuff...don’t.”

“I guess now is a bad time to mention I run a ranch,” he said, opening and closing his left fist, trying to get used to the sling he’d woken up in.

Nesta’s eyebrows rose at his words, but she said nothing.

The nurse chuckled and scribbled something on a clipboard, tucking it back into its slot at the end of the bed. “Well, I’d say it’s time to look into hiring a ranch hand.”

She left without another word and Cassian mumbled, “I am the ranch hand.”

“Azriel and Rhysand said they’ll help,” Nesta said, when they were alone. “And my sisters. And I’ll help, too.”

“You’re pregnant,” Cassian said.

“Pregnant, not useless,” Nesta shot back. “I can still help.”

Cassian sighed, nodding. “I know, I just… I can’t just sit back and relax.”

“It’s only temporary,” Nesta said.

Cassian took a moment to think about all the things he did every day. Sure, with the five of them, it should be fine. But they all four had real world jobs, with real world schedules. Well, all but Rhys. His would change every few weeks, depending on who’s rotation he was on. And the rolls of hay he fed the horses, those weighed damn near seven or eight hundred pounds, and that’s if they were bone dry. The image of Elain and Feyre trying desperately to move a sopping wet, heavy roll of hay made him chuckle.

Nesta looked at him and he sighed. “Having a ranch hand around might not be a bad idea, but only until I’m healed.” He carefully pressed a hand to his bandaged chest and winced. “But it’s only temporary,” he said, repeating Nesta’s words.

“Exactly,” she whispered. “Now, let’s get you home.”

Rhysand came in with a bag of clothes Azriel had brought. Once he was dressed and discharged, the whole bloodied crew walked out into the early evening light. Even though they all had changed and were no longer covered in Cassian’s blood, they all needed a serious shower. Nesta could still feel the dried blood in strands of her hair.

Feyre and Rhysand dropped them off at the ranch and into Nesta’s little house. She was going to take him to the main house and into the master bedroom, but the thought of all those stairs had Cassian cringing.

So he helped himself, despite everyone’s protests, up the three steps of the front porch and through the front door, then into Nesta’s bedroom, where he slowly laid back against the blankets.

“Call if you need anything,” Feyre said, only for Rhysand to repeat the statement. She promised she would then they were off.

Cassian had already fallen asleep, Beau now laying at his feet, when Nesta padded into the washroom for a shower.

She turned the water on, turning the handle as far to the left as it would do, and waited until steam poured out over the frosted glass door and stepped in. Nesta hissed as the stream hit her back, scalding her, but also making her feel...something.

The last couple of days had been some of the worst of Nesta’s life. She had moments where she couldn’t breathe, where she could barely find the strength to keep going. Especially when she had no idea where Cassian’s life sat in limbo.

She leaned her forehead against the tile, doing her best to quiet the sob that tore from her. She had done her best to be strong while they were at the hospital. The only time she’d cried was in the waiting room and when she finally got to see that Cassian was alive and well.

And when she’d found out she was pregnant.

She’d stared at Elain, not sure if she’d heard her right, but when she repeated herself, and showed Nesta the positive pregnancy test on her scans, Nesta had started sobbing.

She’d cried because she was scared. She had no idea how to bring a child into the world, only that it hurt like hell. She’d cried because she had no idea how Cassian was going to respond. This wasn’t planned, it was the opposite. This was unexpected. She’d cried because she was shocked. She didn’t even know what to say, no words could encompass how she felt.

But mostly, she cried because she was so, so happy.

With her forehead pressed against the tile wall, Nesta pressed a protective hand over her stomach, no sign of the precious life showing inside.

She was going to be a mother.

To Cassian's child.

Cassian, who she loved, who almost left the world far too soon.

It was so incredibly overwhelming.

She stayed in the shower until her eyes dried, until there were no tears left to cry. She stayed until the water turned lukewarm and she no longer felt Cassian's blood on her skin. She stayed until she was yawning, until she longed for her own bed, lying next to him.

The water turned off and she got out and dried off before walking back into her bedroom, where Cassian laid, scrolling through his phone.

The second she walked across the threshold, his eyes raked over her naked body. Then, he said, eyes narrowed, “You were crying.”

Nesta didn’t deny it, but she walked to the other side of her bed, where her dresser was. “It’s been a long few days.”

“Yeah,” Cassian said, quietly. “Hey, come here.”

Nesta slipped on her panties before walking over to her bedside and falling onto her bed, next to Cassian. He watched her with soft, gentle eyes.

“You know you can talk to me, truthfully, about anything, right?” He asked, quietly.

“Of course.” She was thankful that months of sleeping next to each other had already obligated their sides of the bed. She was also thankful that his side was the left side, allowing her to carefully curl into his side, throw her leg over his hips and snuggle into his neck. “I’m just…processing.”

“Processing is okay,” he mumbled, turning her lips to his. “I just want to know that you’re okay.”

“I am,” she said, or will be, she thought.

Sleep.

She needed sleep.

It wasn’t five minutes later that she drifted into a deep, unyielding sleep. She slept perfectly, dreamless, which after the last few days, she welcomed a peaceful night.

She awoke, feeling rested, the next morning, thanks to the sunlight streaming in through the windows, and Beau hopping off the foot of the bed.

Nesta still laid in her panties, a thin blanket tossed over her, but she was completely alone. She shot up, panic setting in.

“Cassian?” She called, knowing full well that she was being frantic, but didn’t care, not after all that had happened.

“Calm down,” he said, deep voice floating into the bedroom. “I’m taking a piss.”

With a relieved sigh, Nesta fell back against the pillows.

He gripped the door frame as he appeared, slowly making his way back into the bedroom. “Are you okay?”

She was immediately up, rounding the bed and wrapping her arm around his good side. She took as much of his weight as she could, which wasn’t much. “I’m fine. You should have asked for help.”

“I’ve been using the bathroom by myself for twenty-seven years,” he said, groaning as she helped him settle back into the pillows. “I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re recovering from a bullet in your chest now, so that changes things.” She leveled a look at him and grabbed one of his ratty, old t-shirts from his designated drawer in the dresser. She padded down the hall towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make coffee, do you want some?”

“Please.” He yawned and froze, grabbing for his phone. “Shit, what time is it?”

Nesta’s voice floated from the kitchen. “Quarter after eight. We slept hard.”

He didn’t reply, because he was reading the text messages on his phone.

When she came back, mugs in hand, she still found him reading. “Everything okay?” He didn’t answer. She hurried to him, setting their coffees on the nightstand and sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. “Cassian, what is it?”

He blinked. “They… they took care of everything.”

She softly smiled. “They said they would.”

It was still surprising though. Thank the cauldron Rhys had worked for Isaac as well all those years ago, and that he knew not only what he was doing, but where everything was kept. He was also very thankful that Isaac had instilled the same work ethic into Feyre and Elain that he had in Nesta.

“They want you to rest, my love.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing. “Which is exactly what you should be doing.”

She turned, heading for the bathroom herself, but he caught her wrist, tugging her back lightly. “You should be, too.”

She stood right at the edge of the bed and he leaned over pressing the gentlest of kisses to her stomach.

Nesta’s eyes softened as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Why do I feel like you’re going to be spoiling me?”

“Because I am,” he muttered against her skin, giving her another feather-like kiss.

“I don’t like to be spoiled,” Nesta muttered, grinning.

“Liar,” Cassian crooned, then leaned back against the pillows, face distorted.

Nesta took the pill bottle off the bedside table and handed him one with a bottle of water. “Take it.”

He groaned, but didn’t protest.

“I have work to do to get ready for opening day,” Nesta said. Including cleaning the stables, she thought. “If you need me, call me.”

“No, no.” Cassian held onto her. “You’re not working today either. No, you’re staying here.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m only seven weeks pregnant, Cass, not seven months. I can still do pretty much everything I was doing before I found out.”

He didn’t budge. “What if I said I wanted you to stay with me?”

“I’d say that I love you, but we have things we have to do.”

“You may not like to be spoiled but I do,” he murmured.

Nesta snorted as she walked to the dresser and pulled out shorts and a tee shirt to pull on. “I promise I’ll spoil you this afternoon.”

“You better,” he said, sighing. “Until then Beau will have to spoil me.” As if in answer, Beau let out a big yawn and rolled over to go back to sleep. “Thanks, bud. I know I can always count on you.”

Nesta chuckled and kissed his forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you.” Cassian reached for the remote control and flipped through the channels and Nesta went into the bathroom to get ready.

Thirty minutes later, travel mug in hand, Nesta opened her front door, ready to head up to the house and see what needed her attention.

And was met with two police officers.

She let out a small yelp and pressed her hand to her heart.

“Sorry, Miss,” the older cop said, gently. “Are you Nesta Archeron?”

“I… yes,” Nesta began, hesitantly.

“We’re here about the incident that happened here the other night,” the one went on, while the younger cop remained silent.

“Okay,” she said, slowly.

“May we ask you some questions?”

“Of course,” Nesta said, leaning back against the doorframe.

“Can you tell us what happened?” The older one asked.

She pursed her lips and said, “My sister’s insane ex-boyfriend crashed her wedding, got drunk, and shot my boyfriend.”

The younger of the two, flipped through his notepad. “Would that be… Cassian Nazari?”

“Was there someone else who got shot that night?”

Nesta turned, finding Cassian limping from the bedroom.

“Mr. Nazari?” He asked.

“Cassian,” he said, extending his good hand to both officers. They accepted and he said, “You find the asshole who did this to me yet?”

The older cop hesitated. “Yes, but he was let out on bail. You may be needed to testify in court, when his hearing comes, but we wanted to come get a statement-.”

“He’s not in jail?” Nesta asked, exasperated. “He fucking almost killed-“

“It’s okay,” Cassian said, softly, his hand a gentle support on her elbow. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” the cop said. “We’ve taken your statement, Miss Archeron, and it will be filed in the report. Is there anything else you wish to be recorded?”

There’s a lot I’d like to say, Nesta thought, but she remained tight lipped and silent.

“Tamlin was trying to shoot the groom, Rhysand Lunasa,” Cassian went on. “I got hit by mistake. I’m sure you’ll be wanting a note from the surgeon, but I nearly died. He was drunk, yeah, but Tamlin knew what he was doing.”

“And Mr. Lunasa, he’s the one who performed triage until the ambulance arrived?” He asked.

“Yes,” Cassian said, nodding. “He’s an EMT.”

The older one asked, “Miss Archeron, we noticed you recently returned from living in Europe for an extended period. You don’t think this could have anything to do with the attack?”

Nesta opened her mouth to reply, but Cassian said, “That’s irrelevant. She moved her after the death of her father. This was a targeted attack that went wrong, and you should have never let him bail out.”

The younger cop froze while the older cop’s eyes narrowed. “You may want to watch your tone, boy.”

“With all due respect,” Cassian went on, “I just had to be rushed into emergency surgery because a bullet nearly hit my heart. I want my pregnant girlfriend to be able to sleep well at night, and that may be kind of hard to do with the guy that almost murdered me, and intended to murder my best friend, her brother-in-law, still walking around.”

Nesta knew that tone.

Cassian was pissed.

And he had the right to be.

The older cop’s eyes softened as he let out a sigh. “I understand your concern, but that is out of my hands. The court date is next Monday. If you need help or have concerns before then, call the station.”

“Will do,” Cassian said, voice like ice. “Have a nice day, officers.” He wrapped an arm around Nesta’s waist and pulled her back into the house, closing the door and locking it, for good measure.

She walked into the kitchen and braced her hands on the counter.

“Nes-.”

“They let him out on bail? Are you fucking kidding me?”

He limped over to the kitchen, turning her around and pulling her into his side. “I know, baby. It’s bullshit, but there’s no defense. They’ll lock him up and-.”

She shook her head and pushed on his stomach carefully. “He’ll be in the wind. He’s not going to stick around. I need to call Feyre.”

Cassian opened his mouth to protest, but then he nodded, slowly. Nesta hated to put such a damper on Feyre and Rhysand’s newlywed days, too, but this was crucial. Her sister had to know. She called Feyre, who answered on the second ring, and gave her a quick overview. For the entire phone call, Cassian stood on the threshold of the kitchen, watching, waiting, concerned.

His eyes were full of worry as he beheld Nesta.

She hated that look, that concern. Worrying about her would do him no good.

The second she hung up the phone she let out a loud, frustrated noise in the silent kitchen. Beau instantly reacted, hurrying into the kitchen to see what was the matter.

“This is so fucked up,” Nesta breathed, shaking her head vigorously. “This is so fucked up!”

“Nes,” Cassian warned.

“No,” she said, and she knew she was crying, knew she looked panicked, looked ridiculous in her current state, but she didn’t care. She sobbed, her body shaking. “This is so fucked up, Cass. They’ve been married for mere days and they have to worry about Feyre’s ex? He fucking shot you, Cass! He nearly killed you, you nearly died! I find out I’m pregnant, and you almost die.”

The look in Cassian’s eyes shattered as he attempted to take a step forward, but the meds had yet to kick in, and he had already been moving more than he should have been. “Nesta, I need you to relax, stress isn’t good for the baby-.”

“Relax?” she breathed. “What makes you think I can relax right now? He can be out there anywhere. He could be on our property!”

“He’s not though,” Cassian said, gripping the door frame, the room beginning to spin. “He’s- he’s long gone, and-.” With a deep breath, he turned and started for the bedroom. “Nes, I gotta lay down.” He held onto the wall as he walked and felt Nesta under his arm a second later. “You’re going to strain yourself.”

She asked, “Would you rather fall on your face?”

He didn’t think that warranted a response. She helped him back into bed. He fell back, a hand pressed to his wound. Nesta watched and her heart broke. “I… Cass…”

She was powerless to stop the sob that broke from her. Cassian felt powerless to help.

“Sweetheart, please.” He held his hand out to her. She shook her head.

“I don’t- I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she said, burying her face in her hands.

“You’re overwhelmed, Nes, you need to breathe.” Cassian reached out, rubbing her lower back. “Why don’t you take a warm bath?”

She shook her head. “I need to go start trying to clean-.”

“Nesta, so help me God, you’re carrying my child. You can’t be stressing out. I will call Azriel. He’ll handle it.”

She fell onto the bed, beside him, sobbing uncontrollably as he rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles. She knew he didn’t feel comforted, knew he was in pain, knew the past few days had just as much affect on him as they had on her, if not more, but he said nothing. All he did was comfort her, his love, the mother of his child.

“I need sleep,” she said, as she cried. “I need fucking wine but I can’t fucking have it anymore.”

Cassian’s hand stilled, as if he wanted to say something, but it quickly began, once more. Those small circles being drawn on her back was all that kept her from completely losing her shit.

Her sobs eventually turned into nothingness. Beau’s chin was resting on her leg as Cassian continued to rub her back. She felt guilty. She should have been the one comforting him, but she didn’t stop his soft, soothing fingers.

“Sleep,” he said. “Rest, Nesta, take a day to yourself. Stay here with me, collect your thoughts. You can start on your stuff tomorrow. For today...just relax. Please.”

She sniffled, the only sound the tv on some mindless show in the background, and nodded. “I need to make an appointment, to see my doctor.”

Cass nodded. “I’ll get your phone.” Nesta raised her head and just stared at him. “Or I’ll stay right here and let you go get it.”

“Exactly.” She rolled over and laid her hand on her stomach, looking down at it. “You’re already messing with mommy’s emotions, aren’t you?”

Mommy.

Cassian’s throat tightened as he looked at her. He couldn’t help but imagine what she was going to look like in a few months, belly rounded out, carrying his baby.

“Nes, I- I know all of this was unexpected and probably not the best timing, but…” He cleared his throat, surprised that his voice was wavering. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. Ever.”

Nesta’s eyes softened as she looked up at him. “I’m happy too, Cass. You’re right...it’s not the best timing...but, I’m happy, too.”

Cassian reached up to brush her hair behind her ear. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nesta answered, in all honesty. She had gotten used to never imagining herself as a mother, much less being a good one. “But you’re going to be one hell of a father.”

“A family,” Cassian breathed, and she recognized the look in his eyes. A family was something that Cassian never had, but wanted so desperately. “Me, you, and baby.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, and despite herself, laughed, quietly. “A family,”

“We’re going to get through this, Nes,” he said, meeting her gaze. “And when we do, it’s going to be beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she mumbled, as she scrolled through her phone for her doctor’s number.

“And did it?” he asked. “Make you feel better?”

“A little,” she confessed, setting her phone down to meet his tired gaze.

“Stay with me today,” he begged, quietly. “Spoil me. Tomorrow, I’ll let you work your ass off...but, today, be lazy with me. Please.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip, calculating all she had to get done before the opening of the B&B next week, but she nodded, slowly. “Fine.”

Cassian smiled. “Thank you, now part one of spoiling me includes taking a relaxing bath.” He pointed to the bathroom. “Go.”

Nesta nodded and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Okay. Then how about I make breakfast?”

Cassian chuckled. “Sounds perfect, because I’m starving.”

Nesta shook her head and climbed off the bed, stopping at her dresser for clean clothes, but Cassian said, “Oh, and part two of spoiling me is getting out of the bathtub naked, sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but didn’t protest as she went into the bathroom, stripped down, and started to fill the tub. She could hear him in the bedroom, watching something sports related on the t.v. as she sunk into the water. It filled up around her as she closed her eyes, then turned the faucet off with her toes. She tried to push the thoughts out of her mind, tried to push away her fears and anxieties, but it only worked so much. Nonetheless, she did her best to relax before washing herself with her favorite lavender soap and pulling the plug to let the water drain.

She dried herself off, brushed out her hair, and rubbed lotion all over her body before entering the bedroom.

Cassian was already looking at the doorway, apparently having heard her approaching.

Beau was sound asleep on the rug, snoring softly as Nesta meandered into the room.

The look in Cassian’s eyes had her toes curling.

“No physical activity,” Nesta warned. “Doctor’s orders.”

“The doctor has never seen your tits.” His voice was deeper than normal, slower, and she climbed into bed next to him, seeing his eyes glassy, she knew why.

“How do those pain meds got you feeling?” She chuckled, knowing they’d finally worked their way into his system.

He shrugged, but wrapped his good arm around her waist, pulling her against his body. His nose was in her damp hair, breathing deeply and inhaling her scent. “Like I could make you feel good.”

Nesta chuckled as she settled back into the pillow and stole the remote from him, turning it from the football highlights and flipping through channels. Cassian protested and said, “I was watching that…” Without looking at him, Nesta flipped the top half of the blanket down, exposing her bare chest. He nodded and said, “Remote is yours, yes, ma’am.”

He fell against her shoulder, his mouth finding its way against her neck. She chuckled, flipping through the stations. “Cass.”

“Hmmm,” he mumbled, tongue brushing her skin, kisses trailing down to her collarbone.

“Rest,” she ordered.

“I am,” he argued.

“You are not,” she laughed, then pushed him back by his forehead.

He frowned, then yawned. “Your tits help me relax.”

“My tits make you do the opposite of relax. I’m putting on a shirt.”

“No.” He laughed, quietly, pulling on her hand before she could move. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

She found a lifetime movie that could play in the background and laid his hand on her stomach. She curled up against him and sighed.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, his thumb rubbing slow circles against her abdomen.

“Just…how we’re going to do all of this.” At his questioning glance, she went on. “Run a newly reopened B&B, maintain the ranch, and juggle a newborn? It’s only the two of us and we’re about to need a lot more hands. Not to mention who knows how long until you’ll be back to work.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back at it next week. I don’t really give a shit what the doctor says, we’ve got animals that count on me.” He saw the protest in her eyes but forged on before she could interrupt. “As for the B&B, maybe we should hire a manager or an assistant for you. Something to help with the business side of it. And lastly, we’re going to have the most badass kid of all time, he’ll be helping us on the ranch before you know it.”

Nesta glanced up at him. “He?”

Cassian’s cheeks reddened, not even realizing he’d made that slip. “I’ve always wanted a boy first. I want someone I can play with, get rough with. I want a built in roping partner. I’ll be over the moon if we have a girl, don’t get me wrong. But gods, I want a boy.”

Nesta looked up at him and kissed his cheek, softly, before saying, “If it is a boy, I hope he looks just like his daddy.”

Cassian's smile was so genuine and bright and utterly beautiful that Nesta couldn’t help but kiss him, once more, slowly, tenderly, on his lips.

They laid like that for hours until morning turned into afternoon, until they both fell asleep, peacefully, wrapped in each other’s arms.

#the ranch nessian #sharacollab #shara writes #snacmc #tacmc snelbz collab #theranchnessian #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Buffet Froid

1x10

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, mental health problems

Author’s Note: The art of making it look like i like hannibal when he annoyed the fuck out of me this episode. Also it is so hard to write this cause my HEART i just wanna hug will UGH

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar. Those sentences are not mine.

Official Episode Summary : Two victims' faces are similarly mutilated. For the first time, Will contaminates a crime scene thinking he committed the first murder and an MRI shows he suffers from Advanced Encephalitis.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll

(not my gif)

You sat in the car. You were outside of a crime scene, the house looking ominous as it loomed over what had happened inside. There were so many people outside, taking pictures and talking. Will was inside. You had driven him, per his request. You usually didn’t come to the crime scenes but they had been acting off, like he was almost on autopilot when he asked you to take him. Your fingers drummed on the steering wheel as you stared out, trying to catch glimpses of people you knew.

You saw Bev walk out quickly making her way to the car. You rolled down the window and she shook her head a bit as she walked up.

“You should go talk to Will,” she said.

“What happened?” Bev looked back at the house, at Jack who had just exited the house. You looked at her, the worried look on her face evident.

“He contaminated the crime scene. He’s never done that before,” Beverly said. “His hands were around her throat.”

You were surprised to hear that, rightly so. You unlocked the car and got out, walking across the yard beside Beverly who was quick to give anyone a look that even thought about protesting to your presence. Will had come out when you weren’t looking. He was talking to Jack.

“I got lost in the reconstruction. Just for a second. Just a blink,” Will was saying as you walked up to him. Jack barley took notice of your presence but Will looked at you, surprised to see you there by his eyes. He didn’t protest it though. You knew before he could tell you. He had lost some time.

“I know you don’t like to be a subject of concern, but consider me officially concerned,” Jack said. You scoffed and Jack glanced at you but didn’t show any emotion.

“Officially,” Will said.

“About time,” you muttered.

“Wait in the car,” Jack said to you. You raised your hands in defiance.

“I’m here on a warning from Beverly,” you said, glancing at Will. He shook his head.

“I’ll be there soon,” he muttered. You nodded and he reached out to grab your hand and for a second he held it, quietly, looking confused and worried and scared. Your hand slipped from his and you walked over to the car.

“Thought the reason you have me seeing Dr. Lecter and not an FBI psychiatrist is so my mental well-being stays unofficial,” Will muttered, watching you go.

“Have I broken you?” Jack asked. “Is your girlfriend right this time?”

“Do you have anybody that does this better unbroken then I do broken?” Will asked. “And she’s always right.”

“Fear makes you rude, Will,” Jack said as Will walked to the car. His hands shook. He always seemed to be shaking. He stooped at the drivers window and you looked at him, elbow resting on the open window and your hand propped up by your palm.

“We should go to Hannibal after this,” you muttered.

“Why are you here?” he asked. It wasn’t rude. He was only asking.

“You asked me to drive you.” He nodded, glancing back at the house. “I have to look at the body again.” A beat of silence.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Gutting a fish,” he whispered. You nodded. He had gone fishing yesterday though.

“We’ll go to Hannibal’s together.”

“Sit in,” he whispered, referring to the session.

“I will.” He nodded and walked back to the house. You fought the tears threatening to fall from seeing him in so much confusion.

“I can’t remember seeing her dead body before I saw myself killing her,” Will said. He glanced at you sheepishly. You sat on Hannibal’s desk which was your resident spot when you sat into sessions. You didn’t do it often and you only did it with Will’s request or permission. He wanted a witness today, to whatever it is that Hannibal had prepared for him.

“Those memories sank out of sight, yet you’re aware of their absence,” Hannibal inquired. Will was pacing around the room, his mind on fire.

“They left a slick on the surface of my mind where they’re supposed to be,” he said.

“Where you hope they’re supposed to be, but fear they never were.” Will looked haunted. The false memories made him reel. The dying human under his hands had felt so real.

“There’s a grandiosity in the violence I imagined that feels more real than what I knew is true,” he said.

“What do you know to be true?” Hannibal asked.

“I know I didn’t kill her. Couldn’t have. But I remember cutting into her. I remember watching her die.”

“You must overcome these delusions that are disguising your reality. What savage delusions does this killer have?” Hannibal questioned. He was walking around the room as well, but in smaller spaces.

“It wasn’t savage. It was lonely...desperate...sad,” Will said, his eyes glossed over.

“Are you lonely Will?” Hannibal asked. Will shook his head then paused. Your heart sank and you hung off his answer.

“No. That was the killer,” he said. “But I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked through me, past me. Like I was a stranger,” he whispered.

“What could this be? It has to be something that we can treat,” you said. Will looked at you and nodded.

“It could be a blood clot. Or a tumor. Just an answer is better than anything,” Will said. Hannibal glanced at you and Will as you stared at each other, nodding in agreement. Your emotions hung off Will’s. It didn’t matter if you were an empath or not. You knew Will well enough to know when enough was enough.

“I can recommend a neurologist. But if it isn’t physiological then you have to accept what you’re struggling with is mental illness,” Hannibal said.

“It isn’t,” you whispered.

Hannibal looked only at you as you seemed to bore holes into the ceiling now. You had a dangerous knowledge of Will Graham. Hannibal thought that might be a problem.

You were with Hannibal and Will into the medical office. You held Will’s hand and he held yours like a lifeline. You sat at chairs beside each other that happened to be far enough away where his hand slipped out of yours. He held them now in his lap, fingers fidgeting.

“What did the headaches start? In earnest?” Dr. Sutcliffe asked. Will glanced at you.

“Two to three months ago,” Will said and you nodded in agreement.

“About the time Will went back into the field,” you said.

“When I met him,” Hannibal added.

“The hallucinations?” Sutcliffe asked.

“I don’t know exactly when they started. I just slowly became aware that I might not be dreaming.”

Hannibal walked with Sutcliffe behind a large piece of glass. You stayed with Will for a few minutes, taking his clothes in his hand as he put on the hospital dress. He let out a small sigh as you looked at him.

“What if nothing comes up?” he asked.

“We’ll deal with that when it comes.”

Will looked at you and you looked at him. He was ready to go but he waited. Eyes glancing around your body wildey.

“If nothing comes up than I am, by definition, likely insane,” he told you quietly. “And if-”

“I’m not going to go anywhere,” you said. Will looked broken. He looked tired. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips, kissing the back of it. “I love you.”

His breath seemed to relax. He knew you but he wasn’t sure that when he woke up you would be gone. He might be seriously ill but knowing you were there still made him feel better.

“I love you too.” You kissed him and he kissed you back desperately.

“Go get your brain scanned now. You have lipstick on your lips,” you said as you pulled away. He laughed very subtly adn shrugged, wiping it off with his hand.

“I don’t think it’ll mess up the results.”

“You never know.”

You stood beside Will again before the doctor. He pointed to the brain scan.

“We didn’t find anything abnormal. No vascular malformations, no tumors. No swelling or bleeding. No evidence of stroke. Nothing wrong with you neurologically,” the doctor said. Will’s face was clearly troubled. “Usually when I tell a patient that, they’re happy to hear it.”

“So... what I’m experiencing is psychological?” Will asked.

“Brain scans can’t diagnose a mental disorder. They can only rule out medical illnesses, like a tumor, that can cause similar symptoms.”

“And there’s no chance you’ve mixed up the photos? Or maybe the machine was malfunctioning? I hear that happens,” you said stiffly.

“Y/N,” Will muttered but you shook your head.

“We can do more tests if it’ll make you feel better. Take some blood samples, but I imagine they'll be just as inconclusive.”

For some reason you doubted the truth in that but you didn’t voice it.

You walked into Jack Crawford's office. He took off his glasses and looked up at you, clearly not excited to see you.

“Does Will need something?” Jack asked.

“Stability. A new brain perhaps,” you said. Jack looked you up and down and he knew that you meant business.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice monotone.

“Will’s always been a bit odd. Always. It was what drew me to him in the first place,” you said.

“Listen-”

“Shut up.” He shut up. “When Will went back into the field it was because you wanted him to. Will wants to please people. He wants to save lives. He wants to use his gift for good but for each life he saves a little piece of him is burned and singed. You broke Will Jack Crawford and I won’t let you forget it,” you said evenly, looking down at him.

“Do you have a life outside of Will Graham?”

“I did before you broke him and now I have to advocate where he cannot.”

“We were never going to be friends,” Jack said.

“No, no we weren’t.”

Come midnight when Will hadn’t arrived home you woke up. You were getting a suspicious amount of sleep. You had gone to bed, assuming he would be back soon after you fell asleep. Jack sometimes had him out late hours and he was likely to be back. But when you woke up and he was still gone you started to panic a bit.

You calmed yourself, trying to reason that he was maybe still at work. You called his cell. No answer.

You got up out of bed and put on some clothes. With him sleepwalking, losing time, he could be anywhere. You told yourself to add a tracker to his phone.

You got into the car and drove the streets for a few minutes. He wasn’t there. You then drove to Hannibal’s which was the only other place your mind could come up with. You knocked on the door at about 12:30, shaking from the cold and worry. It took Hannibal a moment to come to the door but he eventually did, wearing his robe and rubbing his eyes.

“I thought you were Will,” he admitted.

“Will hasn’t come home yet. He won’t pick up the phone but I’m guessing he’s not here,” you said, looking past him.

“Have you tried the crime scene?” he questioned. You shook your head but that must be where he was. It had to be.

“No but I’ll go there now. I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Don’t apologize.” He was about to shut the door when you turned around but he stopped. “He’ll be there. I’m sure your expertise in finding strays will help,” Hannibal said simply. You nodded and walked back to the car.

On your way there you got a call from Will.

“Where the f-”

“I just sent you the address. Come quickly.” He hung up and you did as you were told, driving faster to the destination you were already going to. You were there in under ten minutes from where you had been on your drive and you got out, walking quickly up to Will.

“I thought you were dead!” you yelled, throwing your arms around him. He shook his head but let you hold him.

“Not yet,” he muttered. “I called Beverly to help me figure out the crime scene,” he said.

“Then why did you tell me to come?”

“Emotional support.” You nodded and held him tighter.

You woke up with a start. Will was thrashing beside you and you put your arm on his side instinctively. You couldn’t tell what had woken you up. It could be anything. The weather, your dreams but you felt like it was something out. You looked around for any disturbances. The dogs were still sleeping but you got up and looked around, trying to find what had woken you.

You walked through the kitchen and the downstairs but you couldn’t find anything. When you were back in the bedroom Will was awake, standing up.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

“Something woke me up. I was trying to figure out what.” You walked back over to him and back into bed.

“Probably wind,” he muttered. You put your arms around him as he got back in too and he put his head on your chest. You kissed his curls.

“Probably,” you whispered.

Will went in for more tests a few days later. He looked up at you as you stood in the same spots you had, with you holding his clothes as he stripped them.

“Jack talked to me,” he said.

“Proceed with caution,” you whispered and he chuckled.

“He thinks I stayed in the job because of the stability. That Jack created stability for me, a foundation.”

“If he keeps going on like that you’re going to be investigating his murder,” you muttered bitterly. “Would you still date me if I murdered someone?” He shrugged.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. I mean, I’d have to consider it.”

“Wrong answer Graham,” you said laughing lightly. He loved these moments. Moments where it was just laughing, joking.

“I would date you if you killed someone. I mean I might have to turn you in but prison can’t be that hard on a relationship,” he said. You nodded.

“Right back at you bubba,” you whispered.

“I have killed someone.”

“And look at you, still a free man.”

After the tests Will walked around, trying to find you or the doctor or someone. You were waiting for him and you walked up with his clothes in hand.

“Have you seen Sutcliffe?” Will asked. You shook your head.

“Not since earlier,” you admitted. “Let’s go find him.” You held his clothes in hand as you walked through the hospital. You peaked in rooms and eventually found Sutcliffes office. You pushed open the door as it was ajar.

You gasped and Will grabbed you and put himself between you and the body, bleeding from a chunk that had been taken out of his face.

“Don’t look,” he whispered.

“I can,” you muttered. “Call Bev.”

The FBI came soon after. Beverly gave Will a look over, Jack concerned he might have had something to do with the murdedr.

“He was with me until he went in. And I would have seen him leave,” you promised. Bev nodded.

“You’re clean. You couldn’t have done this without getting something on you and there’s nothing on you,” Beverly said.

“I don’t feel clean,” Will whispered.

“Murder weapon has the same diseased or damaged tissue on it that we found at Beth LeBeau’s house,” Jimmy explained aloud.

“What connection does this guy have to the first victim?” Will let out a sigh.

“Just me.”

Will woke up and you were already sitting up. He followed your gaze that was at where one of the dogs growled at something under the bed. He grabbed your hand and shook his head.

‘Stay,’ he whispered. You shook your head vigorously and he nodded, getting off the bed and looking underneath. He slid underneath and you leaned your head over the bed, heart pounding in your ears.

“I see you, Georgia,” Will said under the bed. You couldn't see his face. There was a woman under your bed. “Think of who you are. It’s midnight. You’re in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Your name is Georgia Madchen. You are not alone.”

“Am I alive…?” came a voice, a raspy whisper. Will nodded.

You stood with Will in the hospital room, looking down at the living body of the woman who had slept under your bed. You held Will’s hand as he glanced over her.

“She’ll recover,” Will said.

“Hopefully she’ll stay out of our bed,” you whispered.

1x11

#will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal imagines #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter

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quitethepirategal · 3 years

Text

An Analysis in Threes

❥ TAGGED BY: @emcads like 30 years ago ❥ TAGGING: @riidcr @starsailingcaptain @covencrown @hookd @all-fleshed-out @evermxre @motherofredemption @bup1957 @conquistadoradelmar @seaprofound @tcthinecwnself @withinycu @windguided @daevilhorns @concordia-cum-sinistro and YOU and I spent like 8 hours on this so pLEASE READ IT PLEASE I AM BEGGING I NEED VALIDATION I’M-

repost don’t reblog. yall dont have to type this much.

MUSE: Captain Red Handed Jessica

Three Strengths:

Her adaptability and resourcefulness. Is she brave, yes. Is she lucky, also yes. But over all, she can roll with the cards she’s been dealt in a way that many would call inhumanly clever. Her intelligence, her perception, and her charisma are all different ingredients of this indomitable characteristic of hers. She can see the value in just about anything and anyone, can pick up on clues and tangents few others can follow, and can remember seemingly endless details, tho unfortunately not on command. But even then, her patchy memory seems to contribute to this adaptability as well, as it usually allows for detachment. If she can find resources everywhere, it means she can survive everywhere. There have been countless times where the wheel of fortune has suddenly turned on her and she’d lost near everything and her response was more or less Damn, ok I need food water and shelter lets go. No food? Grow food. No water? Ask someone if they have water. No shelter? Sleep outside. No money? Steal money. Can’t hear anymore? Cool I can use loud weapons. Crashed on an island? My island now. Shot? Free bullet. She knows when to push, she knows when to quit, and sometimes she knows when to gamble based on her ability ( what a man can do and what he can’t do and all that ). Strong she may be, she knows its foolish to rely on strength. Survival of the fittest actually rarely means survival of the strongest. ( edit; this is the theme for the entirety of her character. I will say it 50,000 times. I am very sorry ). And as a student of philosophy and biology, she understands that phrase better than most. Leading to our next point.

Her understanding. As I stated, her charisma is something unmatched, and is a key element in all three of her strengths. This charisma might not exist as prominently were it not for her ability to understand. She has limited ( I’ll get back to that ) but deep running empathy and while not terribly observant all the time, she is always perceptive. Not only that, but she’s personally known abuse, hardship, and uncertainty, and understands that hate or anger can be rooted in similar pain. She was schooled lightly in both Christian and Buddhist values before diving heavily into democratic philosophy, meaning she believes all being experience suffering and therefore kindness is a powerful sign of strength, but also that suffering while free and equal is better than comfort in oppression. And between her sweet words and beautiful face, she can get most people to open up in ways they themselves my not have expected. Being very good with people means she can learn from them, gain something from them, lead them, and/or use them. But Jessica isn’t a manipulator in truth; her intentions are almost always kind or healthy ones. She absolutely uses people from time to time but not EVER without them consenting to or being made aware of such because again, unlike a manipulative person, she understands that can ruin a relationship and therefore ruin a resource. What it makes for is an excellent leader, a beloved captain, and a trusted ally at most and an excellent conversationalist at the least. But her understanding isn’t just social, oh no. It’s academic as well. Armed only with his little library and the lessons of his own teachers, Jessica’s foster father tirelessly smithed her into a not just a girl who knew a lot of things, but a truly intelligent, thinking mind. He’d die before learning he’d succeeded tenfold. Jessica isn’t one to just except things as they are, facts or otherwise. She usually needs to prove it, experiment, see things from a new angle. Debates with her are fun! She has no issue admitting she’s wrong or confessing she’s never thought of it that way, and is actually wrong a lot of the time. It doesn’t bruise her ego, it excites her. It means there’s more to learn. And her ability to constantly understand new concepts paired with her ability to overwhelmingly understand people combine to make for a very powerful core idea of hers: We are fittest to survive because we all fit together. Our humanity, our empathy, our community are our strengths because they keep us united, which keeps us the fittest. No one is independent, no man is an island. People are power. And thus her final strength is just that.

Her power. While she and I still firmly state that strength isn’t everything don’t be disillusioned; its very goddamn important. And it’s something Jessica has plenty of. She is durable and clever because of her rocky early childhood, she is quick and versatile from her youth in a pirate port, she is physically strong and mighty from her years training in martial arts, and she’s an absolute crackshot after years of diligent practice with her trusty pistols. Her true strength may lie in her brains and in her allies yes, but even without them, Red Jessica is a powerhouse of a warrior. She can end fights extremely quickly or run from them without a prayer of catching her ( no shame in the later, both skills keep you alive ). And it may be in bad taste to say, but ever since loosing most of her hearing, Jess swears up and down it’s made her vision better, her reaction time faster, and her quick thinking even quicker. Yes of course she’s slowed down with age, but a bullet shoots at the same speed no matter how old you are. And you best hope she didn’t bring her firecrackers, because while sudden loud noises will absolutely temporarily discombobulate or debilitate an opponent with healthy hearing, it’ll hardly effect her at all and suddenly, you’re a sitting duck. You see those thighs? You see those calves? She can crush PINEAPPLES with them! People have seen her do it! Do you know how many micro-fractures broke and rebuilt those hands? Thousands! She can crush a trachea like a fucking beer can! She can kick you to death! One ill placed curb stomp and you are DECEASED. Sometimes she’ll just psyche you out because she KNOWS you know she can kill your stupid ass! But while her strength, mental and physical, have always been there, her power is relatively new. As stated before, people are power. Not knowledge, not money, not strength. People. She’s a fearsome warrior but she’d be useless if outnumbered. Shes a very successful pirate, but she’d never make it out of port without a crew on her ship. She found a gorgeous island, but it’d still be wild without those who built it’s piers and buildings. She manages orchards and tends to them and harvests them herself, but she would loose all of her crop without the helping hands of her employed farmers. And like I mentioned, she deeply understands this. Freedom is not independence or vice versa. Did you make the clothes on your back or the fabric that made those clothes? Did you write the books you read to make you smarter or teach you that skill? Did you plant the seed years ago that grew that orange you’re eating? No, of course not. Jessica didn’t either. Another human did. We all need each other to fill the holes in our lives that we can’t fill ourselves. Humans are puzzle pieces in that way, there is no bigger picture or prayer for survival on our own. And because of this, we can do anything we as a community, as a SPECIES work together to achieve. There is no knowledge if there’s no one to learn from, there is no money if a society don’t give it value, your money is worthless if those you’re paying decide to rise against you, your role as leader only exists at the consent of those you lead, and your strength won’t save you from a sinking ship. People are, and always will be, power. And as someone who is exceptionally strong and exceedingly smart, Jessica has slotted herself in the humanity puzzle thusly: The strong exist to protect the weak, the smart exist to educate, and the lucky exist so the unlucky may be given aid. And it is with this fairness and compassion that she has won the trust of so many. She has a great many friends and allies even outside of those in her crew or on her island. And she can make many more with ease. That kind of power is not a power to be trifled with, even if she can kick your ass six ways to Saturday without it.

Three Weaknesses:

She suffers ADHD. Now before ANY OF Y’ALL SAY ANYTHING, I myself also suffer ADHD. And yes I do say suffer because well that’s what it causes for Jessica and I, suffering. Yes, it is ableist language to say ‘suffering from’ rather than ‘has’ or ‘is diagnosed with’ and yes it perpetuates a stigma against us but god DAMN IT in both Jessica’s case and mine, it make life much much harder than it needs to be. At the end of the day, Red Jessica is a fantasy of mine; I pour myself into her whether I mean to or not. She’s the adult I wish I was, the person I might be if I had no anxiety, or brainfog, or lived in a world were I didn’t need a credit score or a degree. And even then, I can’t say I know anyone else’s problems better than my own. So if my character has problems, by sheer osmosis they are going to reflect some of mine. Both of the characters I write have ADHD because I have ADHD and I couldn’t even begin to know how a non-ADHD mind works to write it properly. And no, I’m not being dramatic when I say it causes me suffering. I can’t drive, I can’t hold down a job, I nearly flunked out of school, I still cant read very fast or spell very well, I am constantly overwhelmed by mundane things, I’m a slow learner, I forget very important things or recent things, I forget about things that mean the world to me, I forget about people, I stumble through tasks, I procrastinate hobbies and basic hygiene, and everything I do takes all goddamn day and I can only really do one important thing at a time and in order of importance. If I have a date at 4pm, I’m dressed and ready at 11am because I’ve gotta do the important thing first or else I will forget to do the important thing. I started typing this at a little before 5pm. It’s 7;30. It’ll probably be 10 o’clock at night by the time I fucking finish ( edit: l m a o its 1am bitch you thought ). I’m 26 and am just medicated enough to barely function. So yeah. Suffering is the word. Though for Jessica, perhaps suffering is a tad strong of a word. Her ADHD affects her ability to function in far less debilitating ways ( though whether that’s a result of a less severe diagnosis than me or the result of the society, situations, and responsibilities she functions in and around are far different from mine, who’s to say ). For her, she has very consuming hyperfixations that can last anywhere between weeks to decades, a spotty memory that is detail and memento oriented, she’s scatterbrained more often then not but can focus with amazing clarity on her interests or in high adrenaline situations, is is ABYSMALLY bad at math and EXCRUCIATINGLY bad with numbers ( as opposed to me, who is good at numbers but shit at spelling or reading ), she can forget anything no matter how important it is to her or to anyone, she’s bad with names and dates, is COMPLETELY time-blind, has trouble prioritizing, and of course, wile not actually that materialistic, she absolutely has the ol’ magpie instinct. While her poor memory assists in her adaptability and ability to move on, it also means she forgets things she needed to remember, like when the last time she bathed was and who this person is and what happened between her and someone else or what conversation’s shes had. Unfortunately this means she’s a very good friend and leader... while you’re around and interacting with her on at least a weekly basis. It’s almost a lack of object permanence in both a social and very real sense. If something is not right in front of her, odds are she’s not going to think about it. And while its something she constantly kicks herself for and actively tries to be better about, it applies to people too. Face to face is the best way to interact with her; she won’t think to write you and in her modern verse she won’t think to ever call and she’ll text you back in perhaps a few days. She doesn’t value you any less, I promise. She’s just either distracted or overwhelmed. Also, for someone as understanding as her, she is surprisingly self-centered. Not selfish, self-centered. She’ll talk about herself more than she should, and will assume people understand that she’s doing so as a form of showing empathy rather than bragging when they may not know this at all. Actually she accidentally assumes all the time. It was far worse when her hearing was functional; she’d finish your sentence for you or guess what it was you were going to say ( again, not to talk over, you but to show she understands you and the conversation, tho it usually came of as annoying or patronizing ). Sometimes she mistakenly assumes you believe or know the same things she does without even realizing it. Maybe she perceives the right idea off of someone but isn’t observant enough to notice anything past that. And while she is willing to change her mind about things, she might change her mind a tad too quickly. She’s an over-sharer and is horrible at keeping any kind of secret. Romantic relationships tend to fizzle out. Her impulse control is improving but has a VERY long way to go. She’s always chasing something new. All and all, when you’re a pirate, a librarian, or even a captain, all of these things may be irritating and inconvenient, but are overall manageable in chunks. ...But as a governor to her island, as a leader of an entire population... oof. In the position of leadership that she’s in, she can’t afford to make too many massive mistakes, and she knows this. ‘There is no power quite like the power of being underestimated’ is a phase you’ll hear her say a lot but for her, there is a shift in connotation. If people expect less and you do more that’s a great upper hand in any situation but for her, it was a safety net. Having ADHD sometimes means going months or years being fine and then eventually you fuck up and everyone around you wonders how in the world you managed to do that. She has only barely avoided disaster more times than she’d like to admit. Even with the resourcefulness, the understanding, and the power she wields, she’s finally starting to realize that she’s bit off more than she might be able to chew, with the entire well-beings and livelihoods of others on the line. And she fears that one day she’ll play her cards wrong and everything she’d built, everything she’s done, will all come crashing down in ruin.

She is Hard of Hearing. This one is literally as simple as it sounds: she has moderate and degenerative hearing loss and tinnitus after years of canons, explosions, gunshots, and a definitive, scale tipping attack in her early 30s. Her ears just don’t work at all like they used to. The whole world sounds like it would if everything was underwater: she can’t pin point the location of sounds, how far off or close sounds are, and barely registers changes in volume. And it only gets worse the older she gets; one day she won’t hear anything at all. And while yes, again, it might be very harsh and ableist to say, the truth of the matter that being deaf a “ weakness ” more often than its a strength. That said, it very well can be a strength. I’ve already mentioned that trick with the firecrackers and let me tell you it is a DAMN EFFECTIVE TRICK. Shes around explosions and canons and guns all the time and now she can focus while being around them five times better than she could in the past! But unfortunately it also means she’s very easy to sneak up on, she sometimes isn’t aware of danger until it’s nearly too late, no one can get her attention or warn her across any distance, it’s very easy to escape from her, and it’s easy for her to be just... left out of things. She might hear you talking, but she has little to no idea what you’re saying without sign or lipreading. Some people don’t have the patience or even just the courtesy to speak slower, or clearer, or repeat themselves a lot. Though, those last too thinks aren’t weaknesses of hers so much as they are the weakness of others, but they still negatively affect her self esteem and her effectiveness as a leader. All of this has taught her to pick her battles carefully, and plan around the elements of surprise and discombobulation. And while communication was tricky at first, it only got easier, and now she can talk to you almost like anyone can, so long as she’s looking you in the face.

That damn bleeding heart. We have established a number of things that should easily add up to an overly empathetic, trusting, fight-the-good-fight, martyr-some, idealistic pushover; she believes humanity and kindness are strengths, she has taken on the role of leader and then a provider, she has known suffering and tasked herself with ending the suffering of others to the best of her ability, she lacks the clarity of mind to assume people aren’t just as good or capable as her automatically, she can have poor impulse control at times, she wants to have relationships, and ( while I never stated this outright yet it can be inferred ), she believes that being able to see yourself in others is the foundation of humanity and ( as i did say outright ) humanity is what keeps us unified and unity is what makes us fit and strong. Keeping up? Good. Here’s the curve ball: How can she whole hardheartedly preach and believe all of this, to the point of it being the foundation of her character, WHILE BEING A VIOLENT THIEVING AND BLOODTHIRSTY PIRATE?! HOW, MANGO? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!! Ok, fine, sure, I will. I’m sure about one half of you are looking up from the screen and going “ Oh yeah, wow I totally forgot that bit. “ and the other half got about two and a half paragraphs in before squinting and silently calling bullshit. So let me explain. In short, she’s a detached hypocrite and is well aware and unashamed of her hypocrisy while far less aware of her detachment. I’ll cover both: Western culture as a whole seems to be under the impression that hypocrisy, despite context or importance, is automatically bad. I don’t know where this comes from personally ( my bet is Christianity but I have exactly 0 evidence ) but its a very... flawed idea. Take the freedom of speech vs racism problem; say you owned a bar where all could speak their mind freely over cold drinks. Excellent concept without context, right? Sure. ....Then a die hard racist covered in slurs and symbols walks in and orders- what are you going to do? The correct answer is to throw him out instantly. Not let him sit so long as he doesn’t cause trouble, not just ignore him and hope he doesn’t return, you throw him out. Is it hypocritical? Yep! Sure is! But it is also 100% necessary to protect your other patrons because if you don’t, the racist starts feeling safe and bringing his racist buddies, literally everyone else starts feeling unsafe and starts to hang out elsewhere, and two months later, ta da! You now own a n*zi bar and there is literally nothing you can do about it. Jessica is in a somewhat similar situation. You as a pretend bar owner need to make a decision as who to let into your bar and who to throw out for the good of all of your patrons. Jessica too is faced daily with that decision. If she want’s to help as many people as possible, the only realistic way she can do that are by protecting those under her leadership... only. She is surrounded by hateful, angry, sneaky, traitorous, abusive, or otherwise evil people. Piracy as a profession and poverty in general can do that to a person. Of course there is a clear difference between those down on their luck and desperate, and the truly cruel and twisted, but unfortunately both types of people yield the same wrongdoings. It’s absolutely her nature to extend a hand to anyone and everyone but.... she just can’t anymore. Too many times has her trust been betrayed, too many times has she gotten in peoples business trying to be helpful, only for her to absolutely bite her in the ass. Too many time the extended hand is bitten and once or twice, she’s actually made things worse. Now, she will only help someone she loves, someone under her leadership, or someone who seeks her out. That’s it. And even then, sometime it manages to bite er in the ass. But she had to set that hard limit for herself out of necessity, one she does her absolute best to adhere too and... these days she adheres a little too well. That leads us to our next point; what I was alluding to at the beginning of her Understanding essay when I said she has limited but deep running empathy. That detachment again, courtesy of a very unattached mother and unchecked ADHD. ( It isn’t a strong enough characteristic to even rank as a strength or a weakness but damn if it isn’t an undercurrent to a lot of her motivations and experiences. ) Strangers are fair game that she tries to ignore, but if she even perceives you as a threat, you could be in danger. Like anyone used to violence or perhaps anyone trapped in an us verses them mindset, she can just... flat... turn her empathy off. Not on command, she’s not a socio or psychopath persay. But she has become totally numb to the horror of violence via her warrior upbringing that, in her mind, violence can actually be rather fun. Pair that with the fact that she purposely tailored herself to only be empathetic to her allies and boom. You get a kindhearted killer. Cops and soldiers in our world do it literally every day. Actually anyone can do it really, even you if you tried. You don’t have to be evil or even angry to kill or steal or lie... you just have to believe you’re right.

Three Secrets:

WHAT SECRETS?! LMAO this bitch is the oversharing queen!! I’ve been typing and pondering her character for literal hours ( its currently 11:16, fuck you adderall ), and I still can not think of a single goddamn secret. There is nothing about her that at least five random people don’t fucking know about!! The only secrets she has are secrets she knows about other people and even then she is!! literally the worst!! She spills her guts left and right and yet she wants to be a mysterious bitch SO BAD like BABE I love you, you’re precious, but you are a dumbass attention seeking validation chasing adhd CLOWN girl!! Stop telling random people about your hermaphroditism or your dairy allergy or your dead dad or that time you fell asleep in a barrel like that is literally your uber driver Jessica honey come ooooon. I’m skipping this section mom holy fuck.

Three Fears:

What if she does wrong by everyone who trusts her? As stated at the end of the ADHD essay, she’s terrified of failing those she leads. Where it as simple as personal failure, she’d be fine. Ever if her entire world came crashing down on top of her she’d either die or start back from square one. Death is a fact of life and her adaptability means she can just dust herself off and move on, so neither her death nor her failures really scare her... But it isn’t just her life and happiness at stake, is it? Not anymore, right? What started as a leader of a small gang of rebels became a full crew, then a crew became a slew of allies, then those allies built a town and now... now she’s the governor of the Crimson Isle and there are nearly twenty five HUNDRED lives at her mercy. HER mercy. One really, really bad mistake could ruin their livelihoods or spark disorder and disloyalty. And if she died? Would whoever it is that will take her place be as good to them as she is? Is she good enough to begin with in the first place? Every day the paperwork gets a little bit thicker, every year there’s a new baby or two. And the isle has fertile soil sure but will it last? Are they prepared for a raid or a hurricane? And if Jessica trusts the wrong people, where her people right to trust her? ...can I protect them? Can I protect them?! CAN I PROTECT THEM?!

Who am I if I’m not interesting? This is, literally, an entirely subconscious fear. She’s not at all aware it exists and therefor this entry is short. But between her short time with her very unimpressed mother, her own ADHD, she is constantly hungry for attention without even realizing it. She must be interesting and intriguing and engaging, and I did mention she wants to also be mysterious. She wants not so much your input or even your validation - but rather if shes not perceived then.... is she really there? Remember, she is unaware of any of this. And fortunately she’d never been starved for attention to act out over it in the first place, even when her disinterested mother was alive. Look at her; she’s radiant, she’s beautiful, and she’s 6′4 / 195 cm shredded and covered in cool scars. Without even opening her mouth, without even her colorful clothes, she’s kind of automatically interesting. So she’s never been so desperate for attention that she acts out because she’s never been without it for very long. But it’s there. Hungry, aching, silent. Those years after the M branding were horrible and she could never really explain why. She still throws parties, organizes festivals, and talks to damn near anyone who will listen. Look at my art! Look at my library! Listen to how much I know! Let me tell you how lovely you are! Look at my scares! Look at my hair! Look at me haha, please, please look at me.

GHOSTS. NOPE. No. NO. Fuck ALL of that noise. Stay dead, go to hell, eat a dick. Red Jessica is a scientist and superstitious atheist. As an academic and somewhat bi-cultural woman she simply thinks there are far too many religions with far too much history for any of them to be considered The One True Thing You Must Believe Or ElseTM and she tends to not truly believe anything until she finds some kind of proof. Shes not afraid of the unknown, shes thrilled by it. She’s not afraid of death or the afterlife, that’s beyond her control. She’s only superstitious because she does believe in and value luck, and also its a bit of a cultural habit. BUT IF SOME SHIT STARTS MOVING ON ITS OWN OR IF SHE SEES SOME BULLSHIT IN THE CORNER OF HER EYE THEN SHE IS OUT OF THERE. OUTIE 5000. She has heard the tales of lost souls from purgatory or the eternally ravenous Pret or dangerous Phi Tai Hong or the tragic and startling Banshees or the creepy Santa Compana and she wouldn’t believe a word of it where it not for one thing. SHE FUCKING SAW ONE. She’ll never forget it, it was the first and last time she EVER attempted to plunder a tomb all Skyrim style and at first she thought it was one of the crewmean being creepy as shit until she got a good look and he was SEE THROUGH AS SHIT AND SKINNY AS FCUK AND SHE GOT LITERALLY CHASED THE FUCK OUT OF THAT JOINT. She does not CARE that some ghosts are just apparitions she does not CARE that some are friendly and trying to warn her of something if you are MOVING and DEAD at the SAME time get FUCKED. If any of y’all cringe try-hards bring a Ouija board to the party you are getting SENT HOME and BLOCKED. NO CAP.

Three Goals:

She really only has one left. Listen its... almost 1am and ive been typing since like 5pm i think i covered goals somewhere in here but ive gotta throw in the towel but even then I’m kinda being serious. Her only remaining goal is to find a suitable heir of some kind. She wants what she’s built to fall into worthey hands but she could never seem to find a good parter and even when she did she couldn’t sustain a pregnancy ( you’d think that would be a huge deal but it hardly mattered to her oddly ). So at 50 the option of having kids is out but there’s still plenty of hope for either adoption or a protege. But then again, she’s so busy these days that she hardly prioritizes it like she wants to.

holy shit i need some water...

#i.... i did it.. its done.. its DONE #...this took my entire saterday #i will literally pay yall actuall dollars to read all of this please... it took so long i dont want it to be for nothing qwq #x; EVER PLAYED CRAZY EIGHTS? { dash games }#x; QUITE THE PIRATE GAL { portrait }#x; WHY AREN'T YOU A CLEVER ONE? { meta }

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bumblebee-moreno · 3 years

Text

LGBT EDUCATION EVENT

I posted a bit ago to see who might be interested in an event for anyone to ask me any question they want about my LGBT identities, or the LGBT community in general, and there seemed to be quite a bit of interest, so here we are!

Event goes from midnight to midnight March 30 (starts in 5 minutes, lasts for the full 24 hours).

For those of you who don’t know me (you can skip this part if you already know who I am):

My name is Bumblebee, but you can call me Bee. I am white and use he/they pronouns. I am FTM nonbinary, queer, demisexual, and polyamorous. I work part-time at a non-profit targeted towards trans youth. At the non-profit, I moderate our 24/7 chat (I’m not the only moderator, don’t worry, I do sleep), am a facilitator for our middle school support group (When one of our high school facilitators cannot make it, I also step into that group occasionally). I also help create and present workshops (We are currently in the process of creating a presentation for Microsoft). My other job is as a receptionist for a Veterinary Clinic. (For safety reasons, I will not be sharing which nonprofit I work at, or which veterinary clinic I work at. If, for some reason you find out where I work, please keep this information to yourself). I was diagnosed with ADHD in February, and was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder two years ago. I have lived in the USA my whole life, and was raised in a non-religious household. My extended family is mostly Christian, with a few relatives who are Norse Pagan (we are originally from Norway). I am agnostic.

The purpose of this event:

Education. That’s literally it. I’ve noticed a lot of misconceptions about the LGBT community, and want to combat that with a good ol’ fashioned Q&A.

Here are a few rules before we start:

(I do have a TL/DR at the bottom, but if you have the time, I encourage you to read the full thing)

- This is a safe space.

This means a few things: You can ask any question you like and I will not be offended. Nothing is to be taken personally, it will always be assumed that you are trying to learn, unless you’ve clearly proven otherwise. If you’re hurt by something someone (including myself) has said, you’re free and encouraged to say something about it. All identities are welcome. Everything will be tagged with appropriate content warnings (If I don't tag something you need tagged, let me know and I will happily tag it!)

- Who can participate:

Anyone wanting to learn about anything LGBT, including but not limited to:

Cisgender/heterosexual people who want to become better allies, Writers who want to learn how to be more inclusive, People questioning their gender/sexuality, literally anyone prepared to be respectful to anyone else participating

(I do want to note: this event is open to NSFW conversations. If you are uncomfortable with this, please filter the tag “adult conversations”.)

- Any question is okay to ask.

This is a space for everyone to learn, regardless of their prior knowledge. I will never get offended by a question. I will not be offended by the phrasing of a question. If I am not comfortable answering something, I will explain why, but I will not be annoyed. Part of learning is making mistakes, and I want to be courteous to that.

I am super open, so I will answer almost every question, regardless of how personal it is, with a few exceptions (see the “my boundaries” point.

Yes, this means you can ask questions that you’ve been previously told never to ask. I want to clarify though: I will make it clear when a question is inappropriate to ask in normal circumstances. Since I am telling you beforehand that it’s okay to ask personal or private questions, it is acceptable to do so in this context. However, I will always add a note explaining why you shouldn’t ask people this in other circumstances so that it’s still clear which questions I am making exceptions for.

- My boundaries

I’m not going to share identifying information. That includes: My legal name, where I live, where I work, photos of myself, etc.

I’m not going to share my deadname either, though I am willing to have conversations about deadnames themselves.

I’m not going to share what my plans for bottom surgery are. I am fine to talk about bottom surgery itself, I am fine to share where I’m at right now, and have next to no boundaries about top surgery. But I’m not going to share what my plans for whether or not I’m getting bottom surgery are.

I’ve worked as a receptionist and trans advocate for long enough that I take nothing personally. Because of this, I ask that if you need to get upset or aggressive about something related to this event, please come to me directly instead of attacking a participant. I’d rather you send me hate than sending it to someone who is trying to use this safe space as a learning opportunity. This includes if you’re frustrated with a participant. I’m happy to facilitate a healthy conversation about a disagreement, but I will not tolerate anyone attacking others.

- Hate will be blocked.

When you’re talking directly to me, I’m going to assume you’re well-intentioned. HOWEVER. If you’re directly attacking others who are involved in the conversation, you will be blocked. If you have a problem, please come to me and I will work to resolve it. Sending hate to people other than myself is in violation of the safe space.

- My intention is never to speak over anyone

I don’t know everything about every identity. As a white person, I experience white privilege. As someone who passes as male about 80% of the time, I experience male privilege. I am able-bodied. I try my very best to educate myself, but I am still learning (and always will be).

If I speak on an identity that is not my own, I will always add a note to clarify this. I will only be speaking from the stories shared with me by people who have that identity, and from the additional research I have done.

MY WORDS ARE NEVER THE ONLY TRUTH. I cannot say this enough. Don’t take my words over those of someone who uses a specific label. Even if I also use that label. Everyone experiences the world differently. My words are a STARTING POINT. Please be aware that other opinions and experiences exist. I will try my best to have resources paired with every conversation so you can further your learning, but please be aware that I cannot teach you everything.

If I don’t know the answer, I will do research as well as provide you with sources.

- No question will go unanswered

Yes, this includes questions that come across as “disrespectful”. I have said this already, but I will always assume good intentions unless it’s proven that you’re coming from a place of malice. If a question is phrased in a way that comes across as harmful in any way, I will still answer it AND explain why you should ask it differently in the future or not ask it at all going forward.

If I don’t respond within 2 hours, please message me again: I either didn’t receive it or I am still writing my response. I don’t want to miss anyone just because you think I’m ignoring you, I promise I’m not.

The ONLY time I won’t answer a question is if you’ve made it clear that you’re only here to attack the people using this safe space (I will have already asked you to leave).

- If something upsets you, don’t ignore it.

If you’re hurt by something I, or someone else said, please let me know. My intentions are never to hurt or upset anyone.

You can disagree with people, including me, as long as you’re polite about it.

If you need me to talk to someone for you, I’m happy to do so. If you want a private conversation with me, my DMs are open. If you want to stay anonymous but don’t want your questions posted, use this 🌙 emoji (or just say so), and I’ll make a post trying my best to answer your question without sharing the contents of the ask itself.

I don’t expect you to educate me as to why you’re upset by something: that’s not your responsibility, I can educate myself. I do appreciate anyone willing to talk about differing views or why something upset them, but that is not the purpose of the event and you are under no obligation to educate anyone else. I will do my research the moment someone says something bothered them.

- Please don’t weaponise my words.

Please don’t use anything said here as a way to attack people. This event is to educate people. I hope there’s nothing said here that can be manipulated to hurt people, but I didn’t want to leave this unsaid; the point of this isn’t to attack people who are uneducated, it’s to help educate them.

- Most importantly: Please come into this with a desire to learn

This event won’t be helpful if you’re determined to not learn anything. The purpose of this is to ask questions and learn something. I can’t decide for you that you want to learn. I can’t force you to learn. You have to be willing, or this may seem very pointless to you. I’m not trying to change opinions or beliefs, I’m just trying to spread a little education. If you’re unable to take my words and really think about them, this may not be the space for you, but that’s up to you to decide.

Any topic is okay!

This includes (but isn’t limited to):

- Writing LGBT characters (such as how to incorporate same-sex representation without fetishizing gay people, writing for gender-neutral or non-female readers, making content trans-friendly, etc.)

- What to do when someone you care about comes out

- Coming out

- Transition-related questions (HRT, surgery, binding/tucking, deadnames, etc.)

- Defining terms or labels you’re unfamiliar with

- Working out your feelings about something (such as something you saw in media and need to talk to someone about)

- Various laws (questions about laws may take up to 3 hours to answer, as I would have to research your particular area, depending on the question)

- Literally any other question you can think of that has to do with the LGBT community in any way, these are just some ideas off the top of my head to get y’all started.

TL;DR: This space is open to anyone, any topic, any question just please be open-minded and respectful!

(Just like my first post, I’m including tags for the Pedro fandom because I’ve seen a lot of issues within that community, but this is open to anyone that wants to participate, regardless of what interests you have.)

@phoenixhalliwell

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ardellian · 4 years

Text

I. Am very ANGRY.

For all the trans people who read this - you are amazing, you are brave, and fuck everyone who dares to tell you how you are allowed to express who you are.

Anyway I went through JKRs essay on trans issues and tried to deconstruct it because a prominent Swedish political figure just supported it and these are EXACTLY the kind of arguments I have had to counter and it SUCKS. I will have to sit through this shit being thrown at me again not far from now. So this is... venting, I guess.

This is going to be long and if you want to understand it I guess you should read what she’s written; it’s on her homepage. But also don’t read it because it will probably make you sad and angry. It’s transphobic and ignorant, and just, please, stay away from it if you know that will make you feel like shit. I’m also going to be quoting her in the text below, so I’m putting it under a cut.

M’kay.

First, what even is she trying to say with this essay? She says she’s worried about the “new trans activism.” What exactly is worrying with this new activism? Well, she doesn’t say it outright, but it seems to be that she believes it’s getting too easy to transition. That the “rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation” is being eroded, and this is bad.

Through the essay I can find two main arguments she has to support this claim.

1. Cis youth (in particular cis girls) will be fooled into to thinking they’re trans.

The UK has experienced a 4400% increase in girls being referred for transitioning treatment. Autistic girls are hugely overrepresented in their numbers.

Littman mentioned Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram and YouTube as contributing factors to Rapid Onset Gender Dysphoria, where she believes that in the realm of transgender identification ‘youth have created particularly insular echo chambers.’

She also supports this idea by sharing a personal history of being uncomfortable with gender roles, and confusing that with gender dysphoria:

“The allure of escaping womanhood would have been huge. I struggled with severe OCD as a teenager. If I’d found community and sympathy online that I couldn’t find in my immediate environment, I believe I could have been persuaded to turn myself into the son my father had openly said he’d have preferred.”

“Fortunately for me, I found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians who reassured me that, in spite of everything a sexist world tries to throw at the female-bodied, it’s fine not to feel pink, frilly and compliant inside your own head; it’s OK to feel confused, dark, both sexual and non-sexual, unsure of what or who you are.”

3. A concern that fake trans women invading women’s spaces would make “natal women” less safe:

“A man who intends to have no surgery and take no hormones may now secure himself a Gender Recognition Certificate and be a woman in the sight of the law. Many people aren’t aware of this.”

“When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.”

Okay.

Let me make an observation here before I try to counter these points. She’s having very different problems with the ease of transitioning for trans women and trans men. If it’s too easy for trans women to transition, men will use this as an opportunity to prey on women. If it’s too easy for trans men to transition, young girls will be in danger of forsaking their womanhood. She clearly identifies with the young afab people who question their gender, but not with trans women who want to be recognized as such. Let that sit with you for a bit and I’ll see if I come back to it.

Let’s see if I can argue against these two points first.

1. Cis youth (in particular cis girls) will be fooled into to thinking they’re trans.

Her statistics aren’t wrong. There has been a huge increase in trans youth. This increase is especially prevalent in neurodivergent afab people. Trans health care, at least where I live, is struggling with how to deal with this. Those diagnosed with autism spectrum disorders often have difficulties with feeling comfortable in their bodies and the language used around that can be similar to the language used around gender dysphoria. Many people are concerned, as JKR obviously is, that these people might think that transitioning would get rid of these symptoms, when in fact they stem from something completely different. These people may transition and still have these symptoms. They may be disappointed.

The conclusion you’re implicitly supposed to draw from these statements, and those like what I quoted above, that these young trans people aren’t really trans. That they’re somehow being tricked by trans activists. You have to believe two other things for that: that young neurodivirgent people can’t interpret their own lived experience in a correct way, and that transitioning is harmful.

Because why would it be a problem if a young person questions their gender, identifies as trans, transitions, and then changes their mind? Who cares if they have an autism diagnosis? It is only a problem if transitioning is bad for you. And the part that people like JKR seems to think is harmful is that they might have “altered their bodies irrevocably, and taken away their fertility”. But the unaltered body holds no moral superiority over the altered one. While fertility is something many people desire and something many who lack it grieve, it is not something that inherently gives your life more value. To JKR, the inherent harm of transitioning can only be justified if the person is really trans.

The tendency of a specific group to display a higher prevalence of identifying as trans is then used to cast doubt on their experiences. It’s a “social contagion” - they’re not really trans. But why does any of that matter? So what if a person identifies as trans because they see themselves in another’s story and go - that’s true for me too? Why can’t you believe them?

Well. Because you don’t really believe trans people are real. You believe that when young people speak of dysphoria, they are referring to the experience you had when you were young. And you’re happy with being a woman now. So surely they just need to accept themselves for what they are and they won’t be trans anymore.

I get it. I recognize myself in what JKR writes here. I felt “mentally sexless.” I also “found my own sense of otherness, and my ambivalence about being a woman, reflected in the work of female writers and musicians” and this reassured me. Find a woman who has not during a period of their life hated their body, I dare you. The world we live in does cause women to have strange relationships with their bodies. And it’s very easy from there to make the logical leap to the idea that young trans men are just girls who never found that reassurance! I might have also thought so, if I hadn’t connected with trans men in my teens, and actually tried to understand their experience, and realized that my negative feelings about my body not living up to some standard of beauty, about not being woman enough in some way, and not wanting to be “pink and frilly”, was not the same as their experience. I mean - I didn’t like my body because I thought it should look like a beautiful woman’s body, but they felt bad about their bodies because they thought they shouldn’t look like women at all! Young boys don’t find reassurance in texts about womanhood. Because they’re not women.

So I feel a bit sorry for her. Because I think that she sees herself in these young people, and it terrifies her - what if I could have turned out to be trans? But that would only be a problem if you think being trans is a problem. So maybe you could have been trans, JKR. Why does that bother you?

And god, if you want to talk about things that pressure young people into irrevocably altering their bodies, how about the “rigorous process of evaluation, psychotherapy and staged transformation“ that tries over and over again to make sure, double sure, triple sure, that you really are what you say you are. Trans people who want access to gender-affirming care have to show no weakness - if you slip up and say that you might not want surgeries, that can be used against you and you get nothing. Trans people repeatedly say they have to perform their gender to the extreme in order for health care providers to believe them. They’re being questioned and doubted and pushed and to get through that, you have to dig in and fight. This is not a process that encourages careful consideration and doubts - it’s a system that says: all or nothing, hesitate and you’re out.

So we get to her second argument:

3. A concern that fake trans women invading women’s spaces would make “natal women” less safe:

Here she draws a line between real trans women, who have passed through some rigorous testing process, and men who fake it. She uses her history of abuse as a cause to be worried about the safety of women if the gender binary were relaxed. The only argument she makes here is the one I already copied up there:

When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.

Let’s be charitable and say that she means men who would fake being women when she writes “any man who believes or feels he’s a woman“, and not trans women who just don’t perform womanhood according to her standards. But still the question remains - why oh why are you so scared of seeing a body that doesn’t agree with your ideas of a woman in a changing room? If that “fake trans woman” is there, and doing nothing wrong, then why are you so bothered about it? Why? Is the sight of male secondary sex characteristics inherently harmful to women? No! Are you afraid that someone might experience sexual attraction when looking at your body? Then do you think lesbians should also have separate changing rooms? No, you obviously don’t! Sexual harassment is never acceptable, and just because you have a same-sex space doesn’t make that space immune to it. Opening it up to non-conforming bodies does not make sexual harassment somehow acceptable. Those who enter spaces with sexual harassment in mind should be dealt with - but the presence of non-normative bodies is not sexual harassment.

Trans women are women, JKR says, and I sympathize with them - but only if they display their womanhood in a way that agrees with my idea of it. And they’re not like me. Only if they have the right kind of bodies, have gone through medical procedures, want to do these surgeries, will I extend my pity.

And fuck that.

Look, the kind of logic she presents here paints trans people into a corner where the only acceptable way of being is to subscribe to a certain kind of body. Which harms the very people she claims she wants to protect - young people questioning their gender. Especially non-binary people, whom she doesn’t even acknowledge.

And now let’s stop being charitable - JKR doesn’t believe trans people exist. She believes that those who say they are trans are tragically confused and we should only accept their words because we are nice. We should accept their delusions because we pity them. She doesn’t understand her own opinions this way, I’m sure. But fuck her understanding.

She’s upset because the idea of “womanhood” is moving away from her. She feels - I’ve felt this too! - that this push for increased inclusiveness is taking the focus from the real issues. Things that affect all women. But claiming that women have “unifying realities that make them a cohesive political class” is something that white women say. When anyone talks about “the real issues”, they usually mean “issues that affect me.”

I mean that’s privilege 101, people.

Ugh.

In conclusion, I’m still angry.

#jk rowling #jkr #transphobia #i'm sorry for venting on you #please don't interact with this if you know it will hurt you #look to be prefectly clear i am a cis woman so if i'm out of line let me know #i would be happy to stand corrected #but i #i'm just fucking tired

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moneypedia · 3 years

Link

How to Defend Against False Accusations: A Personal Defense and 5 Guidelines to Protect The Truth

August 5, 2018 By Drew Shepherd

[Note: This post contains details about an undiagnosed case of borderline personality disorder (BPD). These details are included for informational purposes only, not to spread hate towards people with the illness.

If you or a loved one have been diagnosed with BPD, however, you may want to avoid this article.]

Guilty until proven innocent.

That’s the new norm these days.

Our current social climate has made it empowering to be a victim. And any abusers left standing must be exterminated—whether they’re guilty or not.

Please don’t think I’m downplaying the experience of actual victims though.

I know what it’s like to be among the lowest of society, and the struggle of real victims is part of the inspiration behind this site.

But the inconvenient truth is that all these “abusers” aren’t the monsters they’re made out to be.

Why do I say that you ask?

Because I’m one of them.

And this is my story.

The Accusation(s)

During my early twenties, I got involved with a girl who I later realized had borderline personality disorder (BPD).

I’ve already written about the experience and I’ve alluded to it multiple times since. So please read that article before this one if you haven’t already.

BPD is a serious mental illness, but most people have never heard of it, let alone know how to diagnose it.

If you’re not aware of how people with the disorder act, this post will come off as a rant against an innocent girl who liked me—which couldn’t be further from the truth.

But to summarize, the most notable symptom of BPD is the inability to regulate emotions. It’s a symptom so powerful that a sufferer’s feelings can define his or her reality. And this is what leads to many false accusations.

Manipulation, emotional abuse, cheating, promiscuity—she publicly accused me of all them.

It’s part of the process of “painting someone black.” The BPD person goes through cycles of both extreme love and hate for their loved one, but once the relationship ends, the other party is permanently devalued.

Of course this treatment is reserved for those in close relationships with the BPD sufferer. Outsiders will only see a victim pleading her case.

I’ve stayed quiet on these accusations so far since most of them don’t have any substance, but I unfortunately made one mistake that appears to give her claims some validity.

So I’m sure that she already has, or eventually will use this evidence against me. And if her false accusations were to gain traction, they would not only destroy my reputation, but also the legitimacy of the message I present on this site.

The latter is my primary reason for defense.

I’ve always said that the Bible is the basis for my moral judgment, and that couldn’t be more important than in sexual matters.

Now do I always control my lustful impulses and thoughts?

And do I always prevent myself from viewing images I shouldn’t see?

No.

I’m a Christian but I’m still a sinful human being. Controlling lust is part of the lifelong battle against sin in the Christian life.

But when it comes to things like fornication and adultery, I’ve held true to my stance on abstinence.

And as tough as it is to be a twenty-something with this stance in our sex-saturated world, it’s beyond frustrating to be accused of doing the complete opposite.

I’m an ambassador for what I believe. And I can’t allow anything on this site—faith-related or not—to be diminished because of one person’s claims.

So I’ll go into detail here about what really happened, and then I’ll show you how to defend against false accusations once and for all.

Drew “The Player”

I’ll preface my story with a little background information.

I was going into my last semester in college, and it had been about a year since I saw my accuser in person.

Things didn’t end well between me and her the last time we were “together.” But I was admittedly still interested in her—even with all the red flags.

It appeared that both of us were sad with the way the first go ‘round ended. So I foolishly tried to work something out with her before the semester started.

To my surprise, I was ignored and indirectly shot down.

How a normal girl would’ve reacted

It hurt pretty bad after putting myself out there for someone I thought still cared. But rejection is a part of life, so I moved on.

What’s crazy though, is that she changed her mind at some point afterwards. And even though I never got a direct response from her, she apparently assumed we were in a quasi-relationship.

Now fast forward to February.

It was the week of Valentine’s Day. And while I did still think of her, I wasn’t sending a Valentine’s Day anything to a girl who I didn’t trust, who now lived in a different state, and who couldn’t even respond to my direct communication.

The only reason I entertained the thought of us getting back together—if we were ever truly together in the first place—was because she hoovered me back in.

Hoovering is a term that describes actions similar to what its namesake, the Hoover vacuum does.

It’s a tactic people with personality disorders subconsciously use to suck loved ones back in after a failed relationship.

In this case, she used one of the social media apps we both had to convince me that she was open to a renewed relationship, and that she had changed for the better.

But at this point, I was just focused on schoolwork because I had no clue what this girl was thinking.

I had a senior project for an external company that took most of my time that semester.

My project group and I met just about every weekday. And at the time, we were all trying to meet a deadline coming up the next week.

The day after Valentine’s Day, one of my teammates mentioned that we should go play trivia at a local bar. But being the introverted party-pooper I am, I declined.

My schedule involved waking at around 5:30 each day. My teammates were always out too late for my liking, and I knew I’d never make it back in time to get enough sleep if I went.

So I gave the whole, “Thanks, but no thanks” spiel even though I knew they wouldn’t let me off that easy.

Our team was a pretty tight group—especially for four people who were assigned to each other at random.

We had a ton of inside jokes by the end of the semester. And they were the first to tease me at graduation because my honor stole nearly fell as I walked across the stage.

So naturally, they all had a good laugh at me for not wanting to miss my bedtime.

Of course it was all playful fun though. I did get back at them numerous times over the semester, but I’ll admit that I have an off-kilter personality that lends itself to being teased.

So anyway, we went our separate ways and I headed to bed.

The next day, I saw an email from the night before saying that I was invited to a school-specific social app. I didn’t see the email until the early morning though because I went to bed early.

I had never heard of the app before and I was skeptical. So my first thought after waking and reading the email was, “What the heck is (app name here)?”

My second thought was, “Who’s the funny guy who sent this?”

Now I knew it was someone who previously had my email address.

Of course any student could have pulled that info from the school’s directory, but I doubt anyone would have gone through the trouble of searching their class roster, finding me, and then using my email address for the sake of hitting me up on an app.

So it had to be someone with whom I worked with closely or had a personal relationship with.

With these facts in mind, I falsely concluded that it was a prank from my teammate that the rest of the group was in on.

They had just gone out together the night before. And they always found a way to mess with me—even when I wasn’t around.

So just like any other time I felt I was being pranked, manipulated, or taken advantage of, I played along with the hope that the other party wouldn’t realize until it was too late (and this has been my M.O. since I was a kid).

But doing this, in hindsight, was a terrible idea.

Any form of participation on what I later realized was a hookup app would paint me in a bad light. And the consequences of my actions weren’t as clear at 5:30 in the morning.

After I made a quick profile—complete with pictures no man would ever use if he was truly seeking casual sex—I waited about 15 minutes for a response that never came.

Then after realizing how bad my actions could appear without context, I quickly deleted the app and went on with my day.

I’m not sure if I completely wiped the profile I created. But since the app was lesser-known and low key about its hookup aspect—it’s not like I signed on to Tinder—I figured this wouldn’t be a problem.

Outside of my own actions with the invite and the app though, I don’t know anything else. But there’s a chance that a troll profile made 10 minutes after I woke could end up biting me. And that’s why I’ve chosen to address it.

Now, I’m almost certain this invite was from my accuser. And I still kick myself for not recognizing the true source of the bait.

My actions gave her the apparent confirmation that I was “playing the field.” And within the week, she either started, or just made it obvious that she was sleeping with another guy to spite me—a wild and disproportionate response to the thought that your S.O. may be seeing someone else.

So once I confirmed that this actually happened, I ghosted her and all her drama, focused on my schoolwork (which led to my first 4.0), and then went along with my life.

People with BPD are notorious for doing stuff like this. It’s the reason why a popular book covering the illness is called Stop Walking On Eggshells (affiliate link):

They’ll cry about a lack of communication but then ignore you when you reach out to them.

They’ll go on about how lonely they are while sleeping with one of their (or even your) “friends” behind your back.

They’ll say you’re too stupid to complete a task but discredit you when you do it, and then raise the bar higher so you won’t reach the new mark.

After a while you won’t know what to do because she’ll never be satisfied. And everyone else will chalk it up to you not knowing how to treat a woman.

No-win situations and constant testing are common to those in relationships with these people—especially in regards to anything sexual. So I presume the invite was a test to see if I was some dirtbag who would cheat on his partner.

Now I’d hesitate to call it cheating either way since she ignored my attempts to directly communicate, and I had no idea what our relationship status was.

But the other “fact” she gathered was that I was a player who enjoyed casual sex (an assumption that would have driven a younger me mad with laughter).

Look, I understand that I don’t have a squeaky-clean Christian boy appearance—going through trials doesn’t purify the outside after all.

But that doesn’t mean I partake in the same activities those who look like me may be into. And it for sure doesn’t mean that my moral character is anything different than what I present on this site.

Of course it doesn’t help that I’m black either…but I won’t go down that road.

I should also note that I don’t have a personal Facebook or Instagram account. So it’s tough for others to know much about my life unless they read this site or talk to me or my loved ones personally.

This blank space makes me an easy target for accusations since I can be unknowingly attacked through mediums where I can’t defend myself. And there are no videos of me playing with my dog to fill the holes left by my “shady” lifestyle.

Usually this isn’t a problem as most of the people I meet don’t care about my online presence. But of course there’s always one person who assumes the worst case scenario. And it’s sad that in my case, this person was someone I genuinely liked before.

These obsessive behaviors were nothing new though:

This same girl cried sobbed in the middle of one of our classes—when we were both in our twenties mind you—because I didn’t initially return her interest.

She would go from spaced-out to depressed and then stare at me like it was my fault.

She even accused me of cheating after seeing a pic my mom took of me when I was at dinner with my family.

So you can imagine the relief I felt when I closed the door on that for good.

At this point, the only ones who still believe her lies—or to be fair to the illness she has, her reality—are people I’ve never met.

But I’m not even mad anymore. I’m just annoyed that my life is still negatively affected because I fell for the wrong girl.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the honest truth.

How to Craft Your Defense

So now that my story’s out of the way, how do you fight your own false accusations?

It’s not too difficult.

Just follow these 5 guidelines to protect yourself in both the present, and the future:

1) Remember the Alibi

As tempting as it is to piece together a story that makes you look like a saint, you have to ensure the truth you present is actually…well, true.

Since I couldn’t remember all this off the top of my head, I dug through my old emails and group conversations to get the timeline right. And I could always use them again if legal action was involved.

It also helps that I have an archive of posts here that clearly present my personality and the mistakes I’ve made.

You can even compare this post to the one I wrote on BPD earlier and you’ll see numerous similarities. If anyone thought I was lying, they could search the other 40+ posts here too to see that the story adds up.

But if you don’t have thousands of words as supporting evidence, just take your time, breathe, and write down what happened as best as you remember.

False accusations can cloud your memory when you first hear them, and your emotions will push for a raw defense. But if you start writing what you remember, you can put that passion to good use now, and update your writing later with more facts.

A story set in writing will be a great resource to have. You don’t want to lean on your memory or your speech when the pressure’s on.

If you write down what happened, you’ll also find other bits of evidence you’ll need to prepare your defense. And if your audience is really concerned with the truth, they’ll take all the info they can get.

2) Compare the Fruit

Perhaps the easiest way to expose the shakiness of false accusations is to note the shakiness of the accuser’s lifestyle.

This is by far my least favorite technique though since it appears to be an attack on character instead of the accusation itself. But understand that those two targets aren’t mutually exclusive.

A person who usually acts one way is almost certain to do it again.

And no, that fact isn’t judgmental. It’s simple probability.

This is going to sound like I’m bragging about my accomplishments and attacking her character, but let’s compare some notable points about my life and my accuser’s:

I improved to at least a 3.5 GPA in my last four college semesters within a STEM major. But I’ll admit my accuser was booksmart, so we’re pretty much even there.

I have never gotten blacked-out drunk (or even consumed alcohol). I have never taken an illegal substance. And I have never lived a promiscuous lifestyle. My accuser has done, and probably still does, all three.

I landed a stable job in my field more than a month before I graduated, and I’m still employed there today. My accuser barely held a job as a bar server about a year after graduating with the same degree.

Again, I don’t like expressing my achievements, and I never want to attack anyone’s character. We all make mistakes, and I made one of the biggest mistakes any student ever will (which she contributed to by the way).

But when someone’s lifestyle displays a clear pattern of incompetence, recklessness, and mental instability, the validity of their claims also takes a hit.

And that’s without mentioning that I’ve written the equivalent of a book here at HFE—a site where I cover my own shortcomings just as much, if not more than my accomplishments—on my own time and dollar because I believe it will help others.

So knowing all this, let me ask you, who do you think is telling the truth?

A tree’s fruit always gives it away.

Know who you are and know who you’re dealing with so any other lies are dismissed as the jokes they are.

3) Change “I” to “We”

The most unfortunate thing about false accusations is that no one’s waiting to hear a verdict.

As soon as those words leave your accuser’s mouth, you will be facing much more than one person.

Friends, family, social circles, even whole communities may turn against you.

And what began as a defense against one liar becomes a battle against an entire army.

So what do you do when this multitude of warriors stands against you?

It’s simple.

You gather the troops.

Find people who can vouch for your story. Get help from friends who aren’t blinded by the lies. Ask people who were neutral bystanders to explain what happened since they’re not biased.

I know I can get anyone from former classmates, friends, and family members to acknowledge the truth of my claims.

And since I know the mental issues my accuser deals with, I can also refer to a psychologist or another mental health resource.

An understanding of my accuser’s mind is one of the best counters to her claims. Yes, she acts in unstable ways, but they’re predictably unstable, and numerous people have experience with the problem I have now.

You shouldn’t be afraid to get professional help either.

Lawyer up if it’s serious enough.

Slander and libel are legit crimes. And if you can prove that your life is heavily impacted, especially financially, you may have a case.

So don’t go at this alone. You can bet your accuser isn’t.

4) Go One and Done

The biggest mistake people make when presenting any argument, defense, or reasoning is that they over-explain themselves.

Sure, you want to be as thorough as possible in your explanation, and you should reference points of that original argument to answer questions. But there’s no need to add to your stance or sate a mind that will never believe you.

If you’ve taken the necessary steps to present and defend the truth, you have to live with the results.

Learn to be comfortable with the fact that everyone won’t like, listen to, or believe you. Because the more you add to your original defense, the weaker it will appear.

You’ll also introduce more room for error. And it would be a shame for a memory lapse to cause an otherwise solid defense to fail.

Remember that it’s only your job to present the truth. Not to make others believe it.

I’m confident that my defense removes any ammo my accuser has left. So now the only claims she can bring against me are accusations of neglect—which don’t matter since I’m not her parent—or causing hurt feelings—which isn’t a crime in America yet.

I presented the truth one time, and now there’s no need to address her claims again.

Every accusation doesn’t deserve a response. So stay true to what really happened, and let people think what they want afterwards.

5) Don’t Even Fake It

These accusations have made me realize the importance of the Bible’s command to, “Abstain from all appearance of evil.” (1 Thessalonians 5:22 KJV)

It’s not enough to just avoid evil acts. You have to avoid situations where you could possibly do them too.

For instance, plenty articles on false accusations describe how to protect yourself against false rape claims. But if someone can accuse you of something like rape without an obvious fabrication, you are in over your head.

You can’t reach the point where a verdict is decided by a “yes” or “no.”

It’s one of the many reasons you shouldn’t sleep around in the first place. You are putting your life in the hands of someone who could easily change their mind in the morning. And you have to stay out of that gray area.

Remember to guard your character at all times. You never know when you’ll need to fall back on your integrity.

For example, I remember one conversation I had with a friend a few years back, and my accuser happened to be in the room.

My friend noticed that I received a few glances of interest from girls. So out of the blue he asked, “Drew, how many girls do you get?”

He chuckled while asking the question, so of course it wasn’t anything serious. He didn’t ask about anything explicitly sexual either.

So being the joker I am, I said something along the lines of, “I don’t know. I lost count.”

Then the both of us laughed it off.

But there’s a chance my accuser heard those words and immediately assumed the worst.

It would have been ridiculous to say something like:

“I’m sorry sir, but I am a Bible-believing man of God who has accepted the challenge to live righteously. How dare you imply that I live such a heinous lifestyle?!”

So I had a quick laugh and moved off the subject.

But even this could have added to her claims. So now I try not to even joke about stuff like that—at least not when I’m around people who barely know me.

You should do the same. But don’t limit your efforts to watching your tongue:

Always dress in a respectable manner.

Avoid the crazy nighttime venues—they’re magnets for people like my accuser.

And please don’t go to a hotel room belonging to a member of the opposite sex.

Presentation always matters.

Avoid the appearance of evil, and it’ll be impossible to even accuse you.

Grant Me That Chance

I’ve had enough headaches from my past relationship, and I’d rather not think about it anymore.

But it was important to defend myself here before any other false info leaked.

I hope none of it came across as too aggressive though. I wrote all of this to clear my name, not to get revenge.

From all I’ve seen, read, and now experienced, real victims don’t go out of their way to destroy their abuser’s life. They just want justice and a chance to finally move on.

So if anything else comes up about this, please remember this point and grant me that chance.

Contrary to what some people think, I don’t hate my accuser, and I hope she’s able to turn her life around.

If there was a normal version of her who didn’t have what she had, I’d love to meet her. But the ship has sailed on anything between me and the real her.

All I want now is peace and the freedom to live a good life. And I’m sure that’s all you want too.

So remember who you are, take a stand for the truth, and then defend it with your life.

And who knows? Someone else may come to your defense if you do.

-Drew

#truth

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diyunho · 4 years

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The Joker x Reader -”What Death Tastes Like” Part 4

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Your Birthday

“Look at him, parading like a rooster!” Emma elbows you, huffing.

The Joker is on the terrace, nosing inside the coolers to find his favorite grape juice brand since he knows it should be in there somewhere. He’s sporting very dark purple pants and a much lighter shade purple shirt, fitted on his body to perfection plus two gold chains around his neck which makes one wonder why he didn’t add more giving his sense of fashion.

You pile up some fruits on your plate, gazing The Clown’s way with a smirk:

“Those trousers make his butt stand out.”

“That’s probably the reason for wearing them,” Emma sighs and you both burst up laughing, amused at the truth she admitted aloud.

“I feel this lustful desire of spanking him,” you blur out. “I bet your dad only unbuttoned half of his shirt because he obviously wants me to unbutton the other half: that sexy rooster can frizzle my feathers anytime he wishes,” you tease and she covers your mouth in a hurry.

“Y/N, can you not?!”

“Sssttt, you’ll wake up the baby,” the muffled sentence distracts Emma and she lets go, apologizing to the five weeks old:

“Oh, sorry angel,” she lingers over the baby basket placed on the empty table next to the self-serve buffet: Frost’s son is napping under the umbrella while his parents mingle for a little bit with the guests that already arrived at your birthday party. How did Jonny end up here? The crazy motive: his employer is to blame for the mess he created one hour ago, already fixed due to your sense of urgency.

The Joker showed up in time at 3pm for his “date” like you instructed; you opened the door and he immediately handed you a car sit containing the tiny human.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N!”

“Ummm…thank you,” the hesitant Y/N invited him inside.

“I got you a present,” he widely grinned, confident nobody else came up with a better gift idea.

“… Whose baby is this?!...” you followed him, carefully walking with the adorable bundle in the living room; the sleeping treasure fussed for a few seconds and went back to dreaming, unaware he was away from his parents.

“Frost’s,” J answered and you turned towards the entrance, baffled.

“I’ll go open the door for him then.”

“That’s not necessary; he didn’t come with me.”

“What do you mean?!”

“He’s off today. I just went to his house to drop up some ammo, then sneaked in the nursery and took the baby.”

“And his parents were ok with that?!” you crinkled your nose, more and more suspicious regarding his behavior.

“They don’t know,” The King of Gotham calmly informed.

“You kidnapped Frost’s son?!”

“I didn’t kidnap him,” J rolled his eyes, offended at your accusation. “I took him.”

“Without his parents’ consent. So you kidnapped him!” you gasped at the insane revelation.

“I’m in charge,” The Joker logic surfaced instantly. “I don’t require consent! Why are you staring at me like this?”

“I keep on hoping you’re bluffing,” you cringed at his argument. “Give me your phone!” you ordered and the item was shortly in your possession, although you had to witness a lot of grievance from his part as you searched for Frost’s digits.

Praise heavens you did since his wife was absolutely hysterical when you called: their offspring was missing from the cradle and Jonny might not be the type of person that panics, yet he had a total nervous breakdown.

They were fast to come and pick up Evan, so yeah… that’s how The Frosts ended up at your birthday bash… Full credit goes to their amazing boss!

*************

After one hour

“Do me a favor,” your father continues his conversation with J. “I want you to check with your contacts and try to find more Cromyxillium for me; I’m in desperate need.”

“Don’t you have enough for Y/N?” The Joker growls at the view of Bane’s son entertaining himself with you and Emma.

“For now. Tomorrow I’m starting her on full therapy; I found a new formula to bind the molecules together, this way her system won’t reject the medicine like it did last week. It will make her sick but I’ll be here to supervise the entire process.”

“Aren’t you afraid it will kill her?” J’s sensitive personality comes to full bloom in the best of moments.

Jonathan Crane is silent, then articulates painful facts he can’t avoid sharing:

“I am… I don’t have any other options on such a short amount of time…My daughter is fading… her lungs are finished…” and he gulps, straining to regain composure. “If this experimental drug can restore damaged tissue, it can aid with her cancer… She agreed to the test because I’m a super smart dad,” he grumbles. “That’s what she said…that I’m a super smart… I might be… I don’t even know if my remedy will work or if it will speed up her demise.”

“Fine, I’ll inquire on the product,” The Joker agrees. “What’s in for me?”

Your father takes a deep breath, exasperated.

“What do you want?”

“Excuse me,” The King of Gotham interrupts. “I think my pride’s at stake: somebody’s attempting to steal my date!” he inflates his chest and finds it imperative to notify the puzzled parent. “Y/N’s my date, didn’t she tell you? I was strictly forbidden to bring Mara so I had to maintain my reputation somehow.”

“What reputation??!!! She mentioned it and I thought the whole idea meant only you being obnoxious!” Jonathan huffs.

“I am obnoxious!” The Joker sourly admits and crushes the large group forming due to Sam’s entertaining abilities.

“Hey Y/N, where’s the grape juice?” he finds a random pretext to get your attention as you gesture towards the end of the terrace.

“There’s a bunch on ice,” you giggle at Sam’s story and J lies:

“I couldn’t find any.”

“Maybe someone moved it,” you detach from the gathering and stroll with him in the area you saw what he’s asking for.

“Who gave you that pendant?” The Clown Prince of Crime investigates since you definitely didn’t have the jewelry earlier.

“Sam,” you touch the delicate diamond heart attached to the platinum chain. “It’s so pretty, I love it.”

“He scored major points with the birthday girl, huh?” J mocks.

“Well, apparently some people are aware of my preferences and some give me presents I can’t keep,” you hint and The Joker comprehends what you aim at.

“My gift was brilliant! You said that if we would have gotten married we would have had a bunch of kids, thus it means you adore them. That’s why I brought Evan.”

“Yeah, and his parents already took him home, leading to the reasonable conclusion we can assess from the fiasco: you actually don’t have a present for me. Oh, would you look at this: grape juice!” you sarcastically show him the huge pile of containers exactly where it’s supposed to be.

“How did I miss this?” J pretends to be shocked and sneers when he notices Bane’s son coming near you two. “Dance with me!” he unexpectedly sweeps you in his arms. “It’s a slow song, just move your feet,” he encourages. “What do you want for your birthday then?” Emma’s dad distracts the astonished Y/N furthermore.

“Hmmm… I can settle for a kiss?” you unconsciously caress the short hair on the back of his head while he quickly pecks your cheek. “Um… if I wanted a jellyfish sting I could have went to the aquarium,” you sassily react and The Joker rolls his eyes. “I want a proper kiss, unless you have those reserved for Mara.”

“Why are we talking about my girlfriend?”

“On and off girlfriend,” you emphasize. “A huge indicator you don’t care that much about her. You need a woman that genuinely loves you; she’s a catalyst fueling your tendencies, you don’t need that! You don’t fight fire with fire, OK?” you almost shout and ironically enough he decides to engage in your speech.

“What do you fight it with then?”

“Dynamite!” you proudly state. “Blow up everything, wipe the slot clean and start fresh!”

“A-ah…A-ha…”, he mischievously agrees. “I assume you’re the dynamite in this scenario?” the silver grimace spreads across his face.

“Perhaps.”

“Why is Bane’s son here?” The Joker changes the subject. “He keeps lurking around and it annoys me.”

“Don’t be jealous,” you mislead him on purpose. “Sam was my boyfriend in high school,” you brief your so called partner. “I’m fond of him.”

“Why would I be jealous?!” The King’s mood switches and you realize yours is also: the sole detail he’s interested in is to emphasize zero attraction for his daughter’s friend.

“Yeah…why would you be jealous?...” you sadly smile and let go before the song ends. “Listen, I have to return to my guests, alright? You don’t have to stay; you should go back to your fire because you certainly don’t know what to do with dynamite,” the meaningful reply leaves him intrigued again: no cocky response to your clever twist in words since he already lost the passive-aggressive altercation.

************

9:49pm

You gaze at the starry sky, cozy on the inflatable mattress; the mesh on top of the tent is so thin you can hardly tell it’s there. Very quiet in the garden… you should have went to the river with the others, yet you felt the urge to be alone and rest before you reprise your treatment tomorrow.

“Y/N, are you in here?” The Joker’s voice is heard.

“No!” you grouchily snarl.

He unzips the tent and squeezes inside, obeying to your protest:

“Close it! I don’t want bugs in here!”

“I’m hiding from Crane, he made me do a bunch of stuff in preparation for your Cromyxillium therapy!” J complains to indifferent ears.

“I thought you bailed hours ago,” you coldly articulate.

“I was held prisoner in the underground lab! You should be thankful for my services.”

“You don’t do anything for free and I’m sure you’re over exaggerating anyway!”

“Whatever!” The Joker drops on the mattress next to you, deeply exhaling. “I’m beat; I’ll rest for a bit before I drive.”

You rest your fingers on your tummy, struggling to remain calm.

“I missed hanging out with my cuddling buddy,” J nozzles in your shoulder and you give him an insolent glare.

“We’re not cuddling buddies!”

“That’s too bad; I precisely came to deliver your birthday present. I resent the notion of a man unjustly accused of being cheap.”

“What birthday present?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“The kiss you demanded Y/N!”

“I’m good,” you disregard his offer and he hovers over you, captivated.

“I thought you have the hots for me, I even wore these hoochie pants to please you. I mean, I endured your affection and harassment for the past three years. I’m here now with an invisible olive branch so I think you should reconsider your answer.”

“Did you just say hoochie pants?!” you snicker at his distorted apology although you’re mad at him. “You didn’t wear them for me; you wanted to show off your assets!”

“It’s not my fault I’m handsome!” The Joker defends his wardrobe choice.

“I seriously want to be alone,” you indirectly imply he should disappear. “I’m tired of playing games. I won’t flirt with you anymore, I promise. Deal?” you lift your pinky up and there’s something strange concealed behind your abrupt vow.

“Why not?”

“First of all, I won’t have the energy: my father warned of serious consequences during the treatment. Second, it might kill me: we don’t know how my physique will endure; I have terminal cancer, remember?”

“Are you scared?” J whispers and you nod a yes, upset. “Then you should accept your gift in case you won’t have another occasion,” his rationale pushes you to reconsider your alternatives.

You pull him closer and wait, explaining your hesitation.

“It’s my birthday, you should be the one kissing me.”

The Joker doesn’t defy your logic and complies, unable to suppress an arrogant grin when you moan:

“God, your lips are so soft; I could kiss them all day.”

“Don’t get into it, I have to vacate the premises soon. I don’t want Crane to catch me in your tent and presume the worst.”

“My dad will be in the lab until morning time; you can stay if you want to,” you trace his jaw line, momentarily forgetting your grudge.

“Didn’t you preach about wishing to be alone?”

“Why are you making out with another woman besides your girlfriend?” you evaluate the waters with a question.

It doesn’t seem he’ll bother to justify his behavior thus you utter:

“I can be alone…with you. I’m 23, literally a consenting adult,” the important information is added for the heck of it.

“Consenting to what?” The Joker mumbles as you softly bite his lower lip.

“I hate you,” you pout and snuggle to him while he grabs a pillow, irritated at his involuntary reaction. J stuffs it in between the bodies and you swiftly toss it away.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble Y/N?”

“You’re always in trouble,” you begin unbuttoning his shirt. “Let’s go with the flow, shall we? No strings attached, no commitments. You know why?” you pause and continue. “I might not survive the Cromyxillium and I want to make love to the old guy I have a major crush on.”

“Old?!” The Clown prince of Crime scoffs.

“You’re basically twice my age,” you roughly estimate without proof and kiss him again. The Joker slides his hands under your t-shirt, opting to dismiss your affirmation with a different kind of truth.

“Do you recall when you asked me if I ever tasted death?”

“Yes…”, you bury your face in his neck, wondering if he’ll say something mean that will ruin the night.

“You don’t taste like death,” J forces you to look at him. “You really don’t.”

“… … … … … … … You think so?” the emotional Y/N sniffles, categorically surprised at the confession.

“Yeah. You actually taste like dynamite,” he winks and doesn’t mind the sudden meltdown: The Joker is not big at comforting people, but the girl in his arms feels relieved nevertheless.

She might not compare to the fire he’s used to, yet Y/N’s eagerness to blow up everything, wipe the slot clean and start fresh is unfamiliar territory that’s worth exploring.

Also read: MASTERLIST

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #joker leto #joker suicide squad #Mistah J #mister j #dcu #dc

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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 4 years

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Episode 7: Q&A

Let’s just dive right into this. Spoilers are heading your way.

1:00 - Malcolm why did you try to talk to the strange man in the dark?!?! It’s not safe you giant doofus.

1:33 - Gil looks very annoyed and concerned here. This is a man who would ground Malcolm’s ass if he could.

1:51 - See how Gil’s hands are on his hips? That’s exactly the position Malcolm was in when he was talking to Dani when he was high. Coincidence? I think not. Pretty sure Malcolm is subconsciously trying to imitate Gil whenever he can because Gil is Malcolm’s definition of a good man.

2:24 - Another instance when Dani directly asks Malcolm if he’s okay.

2:35 - Edrisa is one strange lady. She doesn’t even look mildly grossed out by the state of those bodies.

3:53 - Check out JT’s face here. He looks somewhere halfway between annoyed with and concerned for Malcolm. Gil on the other hand is too busy trying to keep Malcolm from jumping off the deep end to be annoyed with him.

4:25 - Does anyone else find it odd that mother and daughter are sitting so far apart on this bench? I mean, I know they’re fighting right now but still.

5:00 - “I am far more worried now.” She should be. Ainsley is trying to out manipulate Martin. That’s concerning because a) Martin is a dangerous psychopath and b) Ainsley, to a certain degree, is exhibiting behaviour that probably reminds Jessica of Martin.

7:00 - I’m starting to believe that Edrisa might be on the autism spectrum. She seems to have trouble reading the mood of a room. She often rambles. She is socially awkward. She talks with her hands a lot. She is very intelligent. She’s a functioning adult but many people with autism are functioning adults if they had proper support as children. Then again, it’s possible she grew up in a home with stereotypical Asian parents who forced her to study most of the day and severely limited her opportunities to socialize in a non-academic setting.

7:11 - hahaha Gil’s face here. He’s like “Why do I like these two freaks? Why do they look borderline excited in the middle of this morbid situation?”

7:46 - I love the moment when Gil and Malcolm realize that they’re looking for a serial killer. Gil looks guilty. Like he’s blaming himself for not noticing that this murderer was loose sooner. Malcolm looks upset too but it looks like he’s more upset about the effect this is having on Gil than he is about the fact that there’s a serial killer on the loose. Both of my boys need a hug.

8:23 - They are waaayyy too lovey-dovey inside of Ainsley’s serial killer father’s prison cell. Like did they forget that they’re inside of a psychiatric facility for murderers?!?

9:00 - The fact that this interaction between Tevin and Ainsley is possible annoys me. I know it was necessary to forward the plot BUT why would two different secure doors be randomly wide open when a guard is moving a dangerous prisoner through the halls? I’m sure those doors are legally required to be heavy enough to close by themselves if no one props them open for safety reasons. (Just my small annoyance. Carry on.)

10:00 - hahaha I love JT. He clearly cares about Malcolm but he also doesn’t know what to say to a dude who is so manic and troubled.

10:22 - I love Dani going on a rant. It’s really sweet. It’s almost as if she knew that if she went on a rant Malcolm would be able to calm down and focus. Look at Malcolm’s reaction to her rant. He immediately calms down and tries to comfort Dani. He refocuses on the case. They are really good for each other’s mental health. They ground each other and I’m so grateful that they’re in each other’s lives.

11:05 - If Edrisa is technically part of the team - why doesn’t she just walk into the room? Why does she wave through the window to get Malcolm’s attention?

11:51 - We have reached a tipping point in Malcolm’s mental health. He just willingly admitted that he’s not okay. Someone sound the alarms. This will not end well. Our boy is going off the deep end....but at least he’s self aware?

12:00 - The first part of this interview (before Malcolm shows up) is hard to watch. It hurts to watch Martin twist everything into a positive about himself. It hurts to watch Ainsley try to twist everything in the opposite direction. These characters are more similar than I’d like to admit. They’re both obsessed with their outward appearance to the world. They’re obsessed with their own success. They’re driven by ambition. Sure, Ainsley is capable of empathy, and I don’t think she’d ever kill anyone but she’s definitely narcissistic. More so than Malcolm, whose isn’t narcissistic so much as he is obsessed with finding out the truth. More so than Jessica, who really just wants to be less lonely since the world abandoned her twenty years ago.

13:20 - This is a really interesting point that Martin brings up. He’s technically mentally ill. Does he deserve sympathy for it? I mean, he killed people. I have anxiety disorders and chronic depression. I have a bipolar uncle. A narcissistic grandmother diagnosed with manic depression with psychotic elements (actually, in a lot of ways my grandmother is like Martin Whitly). I understand mental illness. But the second that someone kills another person...that’s where my sympathy ends. At that point I don’t care if you’re mentally ill - you took someone else’s life for pleasure. You shouldn’t be getting fancy therapy and an all-expenses paid trip to a psychiatric hospital. You should be getting the electric chair. (Sorry if this is getting political - I’m generally against the death penalty but psychopathic serial killers and child abusers are the exception to my stance).

13:38 - The darkest of nights?!?! Martin you are making me so angry right now. You sleep like a baby. You have no conscience. That’s literally the definition of a psychopath. You have no dark nights. Your son on the other hand. UGH.

14:10 - *sigh* look at this. He’s making everything about him. In doing so he’s actually belittling his daughter and her career choice. What kind of a loving father does that?

15:44 - This little moment when Ainsley tells Malcolm that she’s staying is concerning to me. She is so desperate to find her father’s affectionate side that she watches her brother interact with him. She genuinely believes that she is the least favourite child.

16:30 - In this scene Martin says he’s never been to the Bronx. But by the end of this episode we find out that Martin briefly worked at St. Edwards Hospital in the Bronx. Just more proof that Martin is a liar. I don’t know what else to tell you.

17:10 - Look at that face. That is a man who doesn’t care about his son. That is a man who will say anything to keep Malcolm in the room. To play with Malcolm’s head. That is not a father. That is a monster. Look at how sad Malcolm looks by the end of this interaction. How upset. How scared. He is genuinely starting to believe that he might’ve helped his Dad hurt someone.

18:56 - Ainsley’s excitement to walk back into that room is concerning. There is ambition and there is obsession. She is obsessed. It isn’t healthy.

19:25 - “I’d like to discuss one more. Malcolm.” This scene absolutely shatters my heart. For multiple reasons. a) Ainsley just put her career before her brother. She is intentionally starting a conversation that she knows will upset her brother (in front of her brother) because she believes that it will get the results she needs. This is one of the reasons I believe Ainsley is the Whitly child most similar to Martin. AND b) look at Malcolm’s reactions. He is utterly heartbroken. He feels betrayed by his sister. Embarrassed that his father knows about his diagnoses. Embarrassed that this discussion about his mental health is being filmed for television. He looks so sad and defeated here. I just want to hug him. AND FINALLY c) Martin is incapable of even acknowledging that his action have had any sort of negative impact on Malcolm.

20:15 - And there he is. The most honest form of Martin Whitly. Angry. Explosive. Violent. Things aren’t going his way and that’s unacceptable to him.

20:53 - Another moment that annoys me about this episode. How convenient is it that the alarm starts going off JUST as Martin finishes his little outburst? It’s just timed a little too coincidentally. I know I know. It’s necessary for the plot and the time constraint of the episode.

21:24 - Look at that. Three people concerned about your shaky handed boy. My heart is full.

22:18 - Ainsley and Malcolm laughing over their Mom’s phone calls is cute. BUT I feel like Malcolm should be a little more upset with Ainsley right now. I know they’re in a lockdown situation and he probably doesn’t want to fight with her in case that something bad happens to one of them but still. Siblings fight. She treated him poorly. He should be mad at her right now. Malcolm’s acting like nothing happened.

23:55 - Martin is the worst. He really refuses to answer his children’s relevant questions until the camera is rolling. Ugh. Mr. David is not getting paid enough to deal with this family.

25:40 - It’s absolutely disgusting that Martin is so unconcerned when both of this children are in danger, in his presence. Also can someone please explain to me why there was a crow bar in the camera equipment bag? Like for real? That’s not a thing I can see Claremont security approving to enter a serial killer’s cell.

27:00 - It’s not often that I believe that Malcolm is the most rational person in the room (excluding Mr. David of course) but Ainsley and Martin are positively crazy in this scene. Ainsley is desperate and scared but Martin is manipulating her. At least Malcolm has enough common sense to keep a knife away from a serial killer.

28:34 - The flashback. Martin is holding Malcolm’s hands, guiding the knife. Did Malcolm fight his father before this moment? Was Malcolm drugged into submission? I really need to know more about this. Malcolm looks terrified in the flashback though - he definitely didn’t take the knife willingly.

29:00 - Look at Malcolm’s face. That is pure terror. That is internal conflict. He wants to help his sister. He would do anything for her because he’s her big brother and big brothers are protective. BUT he’s also terrified of giving his father a knife. AND he’s terrified of the flashback that he just had. Look at Malcolm’s face when Martin takes the scalpel. Holy crap. That boy is not sleeping tonight.

31:02 - Another instance where I really don’t support Ainsley. Video tapping the un-consented surgery (yes it was an emergency, I know) performed by a serial killer on her boyfriend. Like. Dude. No. So not appropriate. But she’s doing it a) to try and earn her father’s love and attention and b) she thinks the story will help her career. It’s all about her. And that scares me.

32:45 - JT and Dani look concerned again. They’re like “What’s the dumbass going to do now?”

33:00 - I love this scene. Gil and Jessica. This conversation is sweet, and intimate in a way that only people with a shared concern can be. How many conversations do you think they’ve had over the years about Malcolm and Ainsley? They’re both worried about their kids. It’s precious and I love it. Also - another example of how Jessica’s heart is in the right place. She really does love her children.

35:15 - New York Direct News?!? I thought Ainsley worked for American Direct News? Did Malcolm purposely use a different network name?

35:55 - Is Malcolm giving that look to Ainsley or Martin? I can’t tell.

37:40 - I feel you Jessica. I feel you girl. He’s playing with both of your children’s hearts now. You are justified in being livid.

38:18 - Concerned Papa Gil for the win! :) <3

39:24 - I’m really glad that Malcolm is at least aware that his father is playing with he and Ainsley.

40:55 - I love how this episode ends. A rare, intimate moment between Malcolm and his mother. A softer side of Jessica we rarely see, comforting her upset son. Followed by a confused, terrified and equally vulnerable side of Jessica going to the basement.

Dang. This one got long. Sorry. Thanks for hanging out. I’ll post again soon.

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humwrites · 4 years

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THERAPY

It’s ironic - I try to advocate for uncomfortable topics, things that would have been considered taboo. When it comes to talking about my own experiences, I struggle. A lot. It’s hypocritical in a lot of ways, but I’m also aware I’m being too harsh on myself for saying that. I’ve tried to get better with talking about it in the last couple of years, but I feel palpitations whenever I mention it in front of a new group of people.

I’ve been in therapy, on and off, since I was 13. I was diagnosed with anxiety when I was 18. I’ll openly admit that I’ve done a lot of self-work over the years, and have been so proud of my own progress. But, there’s always more work I could do. My therapist and I talk about that often.

With lockdown, and I’m sure I’m not alone in this, I worried about losing everything that I’ve built to be ‘mine.’ I couldn’t do the things that would help me feel better after an episode. I couldn’t reach out to my confidants, or be with them, in the same way as I would normally have done if I needed it. I’ve found myself cycle backwards into old habits, feeling ‘trapped’ again. I was obsessively finding and reading everything I possibly could about COVID-19. Comparing countries and trying to figure out statistics, predicting the next move. I knew it wasn’t healthy for it to be consuming my every thought, and yet it remained. A disconnect was slowly starting to build - I knew logically that it was okay for me to feel whatever I was experiencing, but I’ve found it harder than ever to practise that.

And then the world listened. And heard. Black lives matter. They always have. This time, we weren’t going to let it slide and we were not going to lose the movement to a 24 hour news cycle. As a result, the discussion surrounding racism - covert and overt - came into light. Personally, there was a necessity to stand and be an ally to the black community. History shows us that if it had not been for them, then South Asians would not have been allowed the opportunities we have now. It was not enough for us to stand with them, for them. We had to be using our privilege.

However, it became more and more apparent of one thing. The discussion of racism meant unpacking and revisiting trauma that all BIPOC people have experienced. I watched President Trump address the nation, calling the protests “acts of domestic terror” (Trump, 2020) My anxiety caved in and caused me to have a panic attack, remembering comments and threats directed at my family and I whilst I was growing up - following 9/11. Whilst I tried to stay afloat, it’s hard for me to admit that the trauma I thought I had learnt from began to resurface.

I found myself desperately trying to do what I could for the movement. If I wasn’t able to join a protest, I would help in other ways. Donating, reading, sharing, talking. A handful of the many ways we know now that we can help. But with nothing else, it became easy to sink into a cycle. One that’s stayed. One that’s drained me. Finding myself disassociating and having trouble staying in the present.

But, I was a voice that had to be involved in the conversation, right? I don’t shy away from knowing I am usually a minority in the company I keep, so I simultaneously believe it to be an obligation and a duty to have to discuss these issues. (see also: sexism and homophobia, and how those intersect with issues of race and culture)

This happened to roll into Pride month, and the internet so rightfully redirected attention to Stonewall being led by Latinx and Black trans women. An intersection I’ve struggled to find - a cross-road between experiences of racism and homophobia. The acknowledgement of, once again, needing to unpack trauma. Trauma which was enforced by the belief that these could not co-exist. To be raised Muslim, to be raised as a Pakistani, a Bengali - I couldn’t be bisexual and vice-versa. Coming to terms with your sexuality will always have it’s own struggles, but couple that with wondering if you’d have to choose one over the other - the damage can be detrimental.

I’ll remind you again. I’ve been in therapy since I was 13. I’m 20 now. Seven years in therapy. This was the first in which I started talking about the trauma I’ve experienced with racism. My therapist is a white woman. If I, or my family, had acknowledged the need for representation, I would like to hope we would’ve found a South Asian therapist. But the truth of the matter, is that I’ve felt comfortable with my therapist. Enough so, that we were able to have an open dialogue about the ways in which things would probably be different, if that was the case. The reason I hadn’t brought it up before wasn’t because she’s white, it was because I had become so deeply uncomfortable with my own trauma that I wasn’t able to verbalise it. I had been taught to keep it to myself. To be ‘stronger.’ It somehow seemed easier to address my journey with my sexuality, if it didn’t coincide with my experience as a woman of colour. To hide amongst ‘bisexual/gay culture,’ which was dominated by white figures in the community - not knowing how that could translate into my own.

It always felt untimely, inappropriate to be discussing the affect the current political landscape was having on my own mental health. That leads me to have to remind myself - that’s what I’ve always my identity was perceived.

Untimely. Inappropriate. Impossible.

I am not any of those things.

“I am inimitable. I am an original” - Hamilton (2015)*

So if not now, then when would I be able to express my experiences, and all the ways in which they interconnect with one another? BIPOC mental health month is now floating around on the internet. In the surfacing of this era, it remains crucial that we remain inclusive of all BIPOC stories - and that means looking at those in the LGBTQ+ community, those who were already impacted by class issues/pay disparities and how that becomes even harder during the pandemic.

Most importantly, the humane problems we all internally battle with on a daily basis.

It is very human of all of us to be going through what we consider to be universal problems - family, friendships, relationships. The truth of the matter is that we’re all working through those in our own ways, and there’s no one way to do that. Interactions during the pandemic are strained enough, so if you’re anything like me, you might be getting impatient with how long it’s taking you to overcome those. You might even be feeling as if they are insignificant in the grand scheme of things. I wish I had answers. I wish I had some wisdom to share. All I can say is that none of that is true. It’s what it is to be human. Taking care of yourself is just as important as it is to stand up for what you believe in. So many of us are right there with you, and maybe there’s some comfort in that.

Do something you enjoy today. Remember that you’re loved and appreciated for everything you’re doing.

Take care of yourself x

https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co/

* = As someone who hopes to be able to return to the theatre landscape, as soon as it’s safe to do so, I found comfort in the release of ‘Hamilton’ on Disney+. Hope remains in the persistence and dedication of those in the arts. That we can come back stronger than ever. The hunger of those communal experiences, as seen through the eagerness of its release, helps reignite passion. I am aware that the show is far from perfect, and in fact remains to not be an accurate representation of Alexander Hamilton’s story - but I remain forever grateful as the show proved that parts for BIPOC individuals can exist, outside of supporting or stereotypical roles.

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eyreguide · 4 years

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5 Things I Learned About Jane Eyre

A few years ago I was interviewed by a UK based educational company in preparation for their release of content about the Brontës aimed for teachers and students. Sadly the company, Train of Thought Productions, seems to be no more, but at the time they sent me a complimentary copy of the DVD titled “Brontës in Context”. Unfortunately I believe it is hard to find now, but I found it a very interesting examination of the Brontës’ lives and work.

The Jane Eyre section of the DVD was especially illuminating. I’ve never studied Jane Eyre in school, and although I've read critical texts about the story, there are schools of thoughts that I haven’t really explored. Jane Eyre is such an intertextually rich story, that I should have anticipated that this DVD would be eye-opening in unexpected ways. So this post is about the things I learned from the "Brontës in Context" DVD.

1st Person Narration

Okay, I do know that Jane Eyre is written in the first person. And I know that because the novel has a first person POV, the reader is drawn more into Jane's story, her spirit and her fiery nature. But one comment from a professor on the DVD really struck me - the idea that Jane addresses the reader personally (by saying "reader") more and more as the story progresses. "Reader, I married him." being the famous example. I was curious though to see if that was really true, so I went to the Gutenberg online copy and did a search - in the scroll bar, there are little yellow ticks that show where the word comes up in the text, so I took a screenshot of that bar to illustrate (I made the scroll bar horizontal).

From left to right: The beginning of Jane Eyre to the end

Again the yellow marks are every time Jane says "reader" (which is not absolutely accurate since there are like three times it's in the novel, and it's not addressing the reader of the book) But it's true that Jane does directly reach out to the reader more as the novel progresses. The professor on the DVD explains it as Jane wanting to take control of her story, and one way she does this is by correcting the reader's thoughts - by giving them the truth directly. I thought that was a fascinating and accurate explanation of the purpose of Jane addressing the reader.

Bluebeard

To me, Jane Eyre is most succinctly compared to two fairy tales - Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast. I am aware of a Bluebeard connection, but I feel like the aforementioned tales encompasses the story more. But after watching this DVD I am leaning more towards seeing Jane Eyre in a "Bluebeard" light. Especially as Jane Eyre is a Gothic novel, and Bluebeard fits that genre the best of these three tales. There's a "secret at its heart" (quote from the DVD) which is a thoughtful encapsulation of both stories. And there was a comment made by one of the professors that placed the reader of the novel as the curious Bluebeard wife, reading the novel to discover the secret. Such an interesting idea! (And does that mean that Mr. Rochester is my husband??)

St. John and Helen

The role of religion is touched on in the DVD, and there was a thought that the character of St. John Rivers (who is not a bad person, but is kind of unforgivably self-righteous - oh, just me?) hearkens back to Jane's friend Helen Burns. Helen is such a positive character and St. John considerably less so, that I initally felt it's almost a slur on Helen to link the two. But in the context of what the professor on the DVD said it makes sense - they are similar in that they 'quash physical desires'. And in that way I can understand why Jane would be drawn to them - they both encourage Jane to embrace a devotion to God and reason, at a time when her passionate nature is giving her the most pain. Unfortunately for St. John, his function later in the novel means he also has to show Jane that living such a cold, dispassionate life is not for her. And hey, both Helen and St. John meet untimely ends. Which to my mind is Charlotte making a harsh judgement on the idea of living just for God.

Jane and Injustice

Here's something that is hugely appealing to me about this novel. The novel can be pointed to as a feminist work, and Jane is speaking out for women everywhere, but what I love about Jane is that it's not her treatment as a woman that makes her upset. She's really angry at injustice. And the whole misogyny thing is just a part of that. It really took this DVD to drive that home to me. Jane is so passionate about what she feels is not right - the inability of Mrs. Reed to love her, the treatment of the girls at Lowood, the way Mr. Rochester speaks of Bertha, St. John Rivers not wanting to marry Rosamund Oliver. It's a glorious aspect to her character and reminds me of a line from an old sixties adaptation of the novel - Mr. Rochester calls Jane "the small crusader, pitiless with righteousness and rectitude." Rochester was a little harsh with that line, but I do like the 'small crusader' imagery. (In the 1961 adaptation he's more perturbed than happy that Jane's come back to him after he's been blinded and can not be the kind of man he wants to be for her.)

Postcolonialism

The DVD touches on three critical schools of thought in connection to Jane Eyre - Feminism, Marxism and Postcolonialism. And I learned two things in relation to the last one - what Postcolonialism is exactly, and that I really don't like seeing Jane Eyre in that context. In a nutshell, Postcolonialism is looking at the imperialist, British attitude as represented by Mr. Rochester as rich white guy, and Bertha as poor Creole woman. And Bertha's relation to Jane as a dark mirror. There's even a book written with those themes called Wide Sargasso Sea which is a prequel to Jane Eyre. It's from Bertha's viewpoint. I didn't care for the book actually. The thing with me is, I am sympathetic to Mr. Rochester. And I don't really see how you can accept the view that Mr. Rochester is a lying, manipulative scoundrel with no redeeming qualities and still like the novel or Jane. Because Jane - the character to whom the reader is intimately involved and invested in - chooses Mr. Rochester in the end, as the person who makes her the happiest. And if you love Jane because she is an intelligent, moral, capable heroine, as we have gotten to know her and rely on her throughout this story - it's silly to think she is so mistaken as to have made a horrible choice in the end. Also she is telling her story with 10 years distance, and not repenting her decision. She is happy, so what more could anyone ask for?

But back to Postcolonialism and why it does not gel with me; because I also feel like making a story called JANE EYRE, with the first person narration by said JANE EYRE, and then evaluating the story through NOT the main character is kind of ridiculous. Jane Eyre is such a personal journey, that I feel it's a big leap to talk about the novel like Charlotte Brontë was seriously examining slavery/race and British imperialism. If one chooses to see Bertha as completely innocent and horrendously mistreated, at least let it be because Mr. Rochester has misjudged her and acted unsympathetically, before saying it's obviously a master/slave dynamic. And I will just insert this excerpt of a letter that Charlottë Bronte wrote in response to some comments on Bertha:

Miss Kavanagh's view of the Maniac coincides with Leigh Hunt's. I agree with them that the character is shocking, but I know that it is but too natural. There is a phase of insanity which may be called moral madness, in which all that is good or even human seems to disappear from the mind and a fiend-nature replaces it. The sole aim and desire of the being thus possessed is to exasperate, to molest, to destroy, and preternatural ingenuity and energy are often exercised to that dreadful end. The aspect in such cases, assimilates with the disposition; all seems demonized. It is true that profound pity ought to be the only sentiment elicited by the view of such degradation, and equally true is it that I have not sufficiently dwelt on that feeling; I have erred in making horror too predominant. Mrs. Rochester indeed lived a sinful life before she was insane, but sin is itself a species of insanity: the truly good behold and compassionate it as such.

- Charlottë Bronte to W.S. Williams, written 4 January 1848

For me, the interesting points in the letter being Charlotte was (later?) more sympathetic to Bertha's plight, but not condemnatory of Mr. Rochester - she mentions that Bertha has led a sinful life before she was insane and that because of the nature of Bertha's insanity (as Charlotte wrote and understood it), it was probably too easy to 'demonize' her from the character's POV, which shouldn't happen to someone who is truly compassionate. Obviously Mr. Rochester doesn't get points in the philanthropy department which is noted by Jane early on. I understand and completely believe that Bertha's situation is awful and sad in so many ways, but I don't feel that it is important enough to the novel to base interpretations of the story on. Yet can I point out that Mr. Rochester didn't lock up Bertha for funnsies - it would have been so much easier for him if she were not mad because then he could divorce her. (The law at the time being that you could not divorce your wife if she was diagnosed insane.) If he could have let her go to have a normal life and not been responsible if she attacked people, he probably would have been all over that.

To wrap up, I am saddned that this DVD is not widely available any more (at least my google searches have not been fruitful) because it was a very well concieved educational program. This DVD was sent to me in 2015, and I’m revisiting it, by posting this on my blog. I orginally posted this on a former blog. And I believe this post once featured on the Train of Thought Productions website, but sadly that site is no more.

#Jane Eyre #Charlotte Bronte #Literary Analysis #Victorian Literature

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purple-scarf-mistress · 4 years

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Dark Truths

A Criminal Minds FanFic.

Chapter 5

Summary: Jamie has been missing for a year, subjected to horrible torture. Her friends/team/family aka the BAU team scramble to find her. Once she is found it will be a challenge to help her get back to her normal life.

Master List (Multi Chapter)

Pairing: ReidxJamie (OC)

Warnings: This story is explicit and deals with s*xual assault and psychological torture. I will add notes for where to skip and pick back up to for those who want to read this but avoid the warning content as best I can.

There are two flashback chapters before this one that can be read on AO3 or Fanfiction.net. They are explicit flashbacks of Jamie’s first days after being taken. Due to the nature I decided to keep them off tumblr. You do not need to read them to follow the story though.

The plane shook as it touched down, scaring Jamie awake. She was used to being scared and not making a sound or a movement.

Spencer noticed her muscles tighten in preparation for fight or flight, or perhaps an incoming blow. “Jamie? Jamie, Sweetheart, it’s okay. We are back in Virginia alright?” He scooped her up carrying her off the plane. “I am going to take you home, okay?”

Jamie didn't answer, instead she looked around as Reid carried her from the plane to the SUV. She thought she would never see this stupid ariport again. This airport that always carried them to the darkest places of someone's life, but she loved that it meant she was going to help someone. She just never appreciated the tarmac itself until this moment.

Morgan opened the door for him and Spencer set her in the car gently, buckling her into the seat. She felt like everything was in slow motion. Reid got in next to her letting her rest on him once more. He actually wondered if he needed to be holding her more than she needed to be held by him.

“Hey Kid, we're going with you. First shift.” Morgan's voice was affirmative leaving Reid no room for arguments

It took them about 30 minutes to get to Reid's apartment and inside. Ried watched Jamie in his arms as they brought her inside.

“S-Star Trek... “ she mumbled to herself remembering the last time she was over with Reid and what they had been watching.

“Yea, we watched that before,” Spencer cleared his throat, “the last time you came to visit.”

Jamie nodded remembering. She felt safer, but the more and more safe she felt the more worried she was that this could all be ripped away again.

JJ walked in with Morgan watching Spencer set Jamie down on his couch.

“I think we should get her some food. Maybe a hot bath? Lots of rest.” JJ said concerned.

“I hear that. We should all eat. I’ll take care of it” Morgan stepped into the hallway of the apartment calling up his favorite late night eatery.

JJ slowly walked over, kneeling down next to her friends, “Jamie, do you want to take a bath? Or anything?”

Jamie looked quickly to Spencer for guidance. Not sure how to answer, “Sweetheart, it’s your call, if you want to we can set it up for you.”

Jamie's mind raced. Showers had not been a particularly good experience she reached her hand up to rub her neck, the bruises from the choke collar the night before clearly visible around her skin.

“Y-Yes?” She said nervously.

JJ nodded, going to get the cast wrap to protect Jamie's leg. Reid got up and went to his bathroom running warm water into the tub. Jamie sat there watching her friends fuss over her. She wasn't sure what to do.

Morgan came back inside and stayed out of the way. He was worried too many people swirling around Jamie would set her off. He watched as Reid carried Jamie into the bathroom in his room and JJ followed behind him. He sat her on the counter, and nodded to JJ.

“I’m going to let JJ help you okay? I will be right outside.” Spencer brushed a strand of hair from her face tucking it behind her ear.

Jamie didn’t want him to go. She was worried he would go and she wouldn't see him again but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t respond. She watched him walk out the door.

JJ gently walked over to Jamie, “Do you need help getting out of these clothes?”

Jamie nodded, letting JJ help her out of them and get into the tub. Placing her leg on the edge.

“There we go. Water okay?”

Jamie nodded. She was glad JJ was here. Over the last year men had hurt her in the shower, she didn’t think JJ would, she really didn’t think Spencer would either. JJ nodded, “I’ll be right outside the door. Call if you need anything”

Jamie nodded watching her go before starting to wash up. Her mind felt all over the place. She wanted desperately to be the happy woman she had been before all this happened but she didn’t even know if that girl existed inside her anymore. She was more scared than brave, more sad than happy, more confused than certain. She was nothing like her old self.

She looked at her body as she washed herself, looking over the marks on her skin, some scars some healing. Her mind went blank wanting to avoid all the memories, her body felt numb too. She sat there. Staring at the facet.

Part of her mind tried to objectively diagnose her. Much like Reid she was a genius, her mind a trap for memories, it was easier to fracture her thinking and internally talk to herself as a different person to overcome all this.

PTSD - most likely, acute stress disorder - probably. Stockholm syndrome? Not showing signs of yet. Please don’t get that one Jamie. Great, you're talking to yourself. Fragmentation/ dissociation of thoughts, Check. Diagnosing yourself. We’ve lost it. Doctorates and all - you’ve gone off the deep end haven't you.

Her mind was like several voices but all of them were here. The part of her that was hopeful, the numb, and the part of her that believed Quinn.

Jamie didn’t hear JJ knocking on the door. She only saw her when JJ sat right next to her on the tub edge. “Can I wash your hair for you Jamie?”

She nodded blankly, not really processing what she asked. She felt JJ tilt her head back, a cup full of warm water was poured over her careful to not get on her face. Then came the gentle massage of finger rubbing shampoo in her hair.

You can’t even take care of yourself now. Can’t make decisions, or answer questions. You're absolutely useless, it’s only a matter of time before they realize it. Stop Stop, you know what this is Jamie, its just the trauma. You know this. Stupid.

As JJ rinsed the shampoo out of Jamie’s hair she saw the tears start falling down her cheeks.

“We’re all done Jamie, ” JJ pulled the drain, “shhh it’s alright” she got a towel ready to cover her once the water was gone. Jamie didn’t respond, she didn't realize that she was shivering now that the warm water was gone.

Jamie looked up seeing Reid kneeling next to the tub not sure when he got there. He quickly scooped her up keeping the towel wrapped snugly around her tiny body.

He rocked her in his arms, “I’ve got ya, shhh it’s okay”

Why are you crying?! Do you even know! Stop, stop it right now before they realize they should have never come back for you. Reid wouldn’t ever think that… would he?

Spencer paced back and forth in his room rocking Jamie in his arms. He watched her face intently waiting for her to break out of her thoughts and be present.

“S-Sorry,” Jamie said at a volume that was barely audible.

“Nothing to be sorry for Jamie,” he sat her down gently on the edge of his bed and grabbed his CalTech hoodie from his dresser. He had let her borrow it a couple of times when they were on a case or hanging out. He loved it when she wore it because she looked so cute swallowed up in his clothes. Jamie being 5 foot 4 inches and him standing just over 6 feet, and also because then it smelled like her light perfume.

“I think this will be comfortable for you to wear until we get some more clothes,” helping her into it gently than grabbing a pair of his pajama bottoms. He slid the pants over her cast and helped her stand enough to slip them all the way on. They were way too long even with the legs folded up.

“Morgan ordered dinner. Hungry?” Spencer smiled seeing the small nod carrying her out of the bedroom.

She glanced over at Morgan, it was the first time she had really looked at anyone besides Reid’s face. His face was so serious, like he was worried and angry - his im going to solve this case face. It quickly softened when he realized she was looking at him.

“Hey Little Red” he smiled. Morgan always had a nickname for her related to her fiery red hair.

“H-Hi” She smiled before looking at Reid to make sure that was okay.

Reid was aware she was deferring to him and didn’t want her to feel like he controlled her. He sat her down at the table sitting close to her, “Jamie, you can do and say whatever you want okay? You don’t need permission. Not from me, not from anyone. Okay?”

“S-s-sorry… I I will try to do b-better”

“Oh sweetheart that- that's not what I meant.” Reid took a deep breath then grabbed the chicken soup Morgan ordered for Jamie and brought it closer to her.

You're not allowed to eat at a table, remember. This is a trick. No it’s not, Spence hasn’t done anything to make it seem like this is a trick.

Reid frowned, picked up the spoon and took a bite of the soup, “ it's safe to eat Jamie. See?” She nodded but still didn’t know what to do.

JJ and Morgan looked at each other than at Reid not sure what to do next.

“You must be hungry Jamie,” JJ said softly.

Morgan saw the confused look on the small woman's face, “What is it little red?”

Jamie swallowed, not sure what to do, she decided answering him was the best bet, “I’m not allowed to eat until everyone else is done, and I am really not allowed to eat at the table, “She said quickly, looking down to the floor.

“Those rules don't matter anymore” Morgan was furious not at Jamie but at the people who had taught her that.

“What Morgan means is that it was good that you followed the rules. You did what you had to to survive so we could find you and bring you home. But now that you are home you can make your own rules, like you can eat at the table, or on the couch or in bed. Where do you want to eat?” Spencer asked, wanting to see if she had a preference.

“H-here is good.” Jamie picked up the spoon and took her first bite. She kept her head down eating in silence for a while. She didn’t eat much but it was more than she had eaten in weeks.

Jamie was exhausted. She could feel her body starting to withdraw from the drugs. She didn’t want to live that nightmare but she was going to have too. If anyone knew what that was like it was Spencer. She started to fall asleep sitting there as her mind thought through what she knew of withdrawal.

JJ carefully moved the bowl of food away from Jamie so she wouldn't fall face first into it. Reid gently picked her up, “Let's get you to bed sweetheart.”

He carried her into his room laying her down on the bed. Jamie warped her arms around Reids neck, “D-Don't leave me. P-Please?”

“Are you okay if I lay down in the bed with you?”

“Y-yes”

“Okay, but you tell me if you want me to get out okay? Any time.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms tight around his neck. “K-Keep the light on too?”

“I am scared of the dark too, Jamie, I’ll keep it on for the both of us,” He pet her hair gently hoping she would fall asleep feeling safe. Once she was asleep he grabbed his phone and texted the other two that he wouldn’t be out for a while and to put his food in the fridge for later.

He pet her hair over and over again, hoping that she would know she was safe in her dreams. Only he wasn't only doing it for her, he needed to remind himself that she was really here with him. His eyes began to water as he realized he had the love of his life back home safe.

Jamie startled awake from her nightmare only to see Spencer laying next to her asleep with his arms wrapped snugly around her. She felt the tears fall down her face as she griped Spencers shirt in her hand weekly not wanting to let go of him for fear that this could all get ripped away from her.

Her stomach felt awful. Her head hurt. Her body was weak and the worst of the withdrawal symptoms had yet to come but nothing was worse than the idea that this could get taken away from her again. Her chest heaved as she choked out another sob. She felt the slender arms around her body pull her closer and begin to cradle her.

“It’s okay Jamie, Go ahead and cry. It will make you feel better if you let it all out.” Spencer’s voice was raspy as he woke up. She had every right to cry for days on end if she wanted too, but he also knew that crying was a withdrawal symptom as well.

She couldn’t stop crying. Her sobs became more forceful and louder. Her head throbbed with her heart beat and her stomach had taken to doing back flips. She tried to focus on the soft circles being rubbed onto her back and the gentle rocking side to side distract her from the fear, from the memories, from the sickness she felt in her body.

Hey eyes finally stopped dropping tears down her face and her breathing slowed. She felt like she had been crying for an eternity. Spence’s t-shirt was soaked through where she had her face pressed against him.

She swallowed hard, “I-Im Sorry.”

“Don’t be sweetheart.” he petted her hair gently, looking up when his door pushed open more seeing JJ peak her head in.

“I brought you some water. Thirsty?” JJ asked gently, holding the glass out to her.

Jamie took it in both hands nodding and took a sip. She kept sipping slowly until all the water was gone. Handing the cup back to JJ. “Thanks”

“Is there anything I can get you sweetheart?”

Why did he have to ask that. YES! Get me a shot! Please. You can beat this you do not need a shot. You do not need to be high. Yes we do! Yes I would do anything Quinn asked right now for it, and you know you would too.

“Drugs” Jamie blurted out impulsively, eyes widening that she actually said that.

JJ and Spencer shared a concerned look, not sure what to say.

“Jamie, I know how hard this is but you don’t want that. I know you don’t” Spencer said calmly

Oh so now he knows what we want? What I want?! Who does he think he is. SHUT UP! He is taking care of us and I am a handful enough as it is! Don’t ruin this or we will have to go back to Quinn. We would get drugs then so thats a bonus.

“Jamie, you need to calm down. You are hyperventilating.” Spencer watched her chest rise and fall in rapid desperate heaves.

“I can’t breathe.” Jamie sputtered. “I don't, I don't know what's, what’s wrong with me!” “Nothing is wrong with you Jamie,” JJ said soothingly kneeling down by the bed.

Liar.

Jamie saw the room start spinning, she felt like her body was floating, until she felt the hardness of Reids chest pressed up against her back. She didn’t realize he had moved them to a chair.

“Jamie, sweetheart, try to match my breaths okay? Nice and slow. You are safe, and you have a family to help you through this. Just breathe.” Spencer kept his voice low and even, he took long deep breaths and paid close attention to hers. He watched as her breathing started to slow little by little.

“That’s it Jamie.” Reid took her wrist gently in his grasp, finding her pulse. Still high but slowing down as her breathing stabilized. “I’ve got you. You are safe. Just focus on my breathing okay?” Jamie nodded her head slowly. She still felt light headed resting her head back against him, eyes shut gently. .

Morgan stepped into the room quietly.

Spencer gently mouthed a “shhh” so Morgan knew to be quiet and not startle her. He took a place in front of Reid’s dresser, standing still and watching Jamie slowly calm down. JJ looked worried. She had no idea what sent Jamie into a panic and the fact she had asked for drugs showed her how difficult a healing process would be. She wondered if they could really pull her though this.

Once Jamie had calmed down again she felt embarrassed. She truly didn’t want to feel anymore. Every inch of her being felt like a raw nerve. “Want to watch a movie Jamie? We can move to the couch and put something on that you love and you can watch or sleep? Does that sound nice?” Spencer asked gently petting her hair smiling softly at the slow gentle nod against his chest. He carried her gently to his living room sitting her down on the couch next to him. “What do you....” he saw her face panic at the idea of having to choose, “I think we should watch Tangled. I know how much you love that movie and it’s super cute.”

Jamie nodded smiling slightly. She had forgotten all about the things she liked and It was nice to be reminded by someone who clearly noticed.

Spencer clicked it on and looked over at Morgan and JJ who just looked exhausted and out of place not really having much to do, “Go home you two. I know you guys all insisted but I will call if we need anything for the rest of the night, and you can stop in again tomorrow.” Morgan shook his head no, but then thought about it, “Spencer. I mean it. You call if you need anything.” “I know I know” said the genius as he rolled his eyes slightly.

JJ looked at Jamie worried about her feeling uncomfortable without another woman around but knew that she clearly felt the safest with Spencer. It was so plain the way she clinged to him like he was her life line.

“Alright, goodnight Jamie, night Spencer,” the other agents made their way out of the apartment.

Spencer looked down at the red headed girl watching the screen, eyes drooping slightly, snuggled up to him with her head pressed right against his heart. He kept his arms around her as they watched the movie in silence.

Jamie felt so drained by everything. She could feel herself falling asleep but she didn't want to. She fought it so hard.

Spencer watched her eyes shut and then snap back open and repeat. He adjusted the way he was sitting careful not to disturb her too much and rested his head gently on top of hers.

When her breathing deepened and her eyes no longer forced their way open he couldn't help but say what he had wished he had said a long time ago. Barely anova a whisper in the dark quiet living room Spencer whispered, “I love you Jamie.” He drifted off to sleep again with her in his arms.

Quinn paced the floor of the apartment he was in. She had been out of his grasp for far too long while they laid low and waited for the Boss’ orders. He was scheming how he would take her again and how exactly he would make her suffer for her poor decision of going with them. He hoped he planted enough distrust in her team members, the main one being her stupid “adopted” father. He smiled remembering how she would call out for him to save her and the stroke of pure evil that had ensued when he told her he was the one behind all this. From that point on anyone he talked to on the phone about her he referred to as Hotch, it was great when he knew he was talking to her biological dad, and would tell him about how she begged for him knowing full well what he was doing to her. He wanted to make her so broken and so afraid that she would struggle to find the life she once knew even if she was able to return to it.

“I am tired of waiting. I want my pet back” her grumbled to himself looking out the window at the dark sky of DC.

~Can also be read on AO3 and Fanfic by anonymouslymine ~

#dark truths #Reid x Jamie #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fan #dr spencer reid #spencerxjamie #dr reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fan #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction.net #triggering content #trigger warning

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dailyaudiobible · 4 years

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11/03/DAB Transcript

Ezekiel 7:1-9:11, Hebrews 5:1-14, Psalms 105:1-15, Proverbs 26:28

Today is the 3rd day of November welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is a joy and an honor and everything good to be here with you today as we move into the Scriptures and take the next step forward together. And it’s so good that we can be together today in God's word. So, let's set let's dive in. We’re reading from the Evangelical Heritage Version this week. Ezekiel chapters 7, 8, and 9 today.

Commentary:

Okay. The book of Proverbs today tells us that two things are not good things - a lying tongue and a smooth mouth. And, so, I suppose this is as good of a day as any to talk about what the Proverbs are talking about. And yeah, we…we can certainly look out…outward and see all this stuff but as is always the case once we identify it in the world what's going on then, we need to turn it back inward to discover whether we’re part of the noise, whether we’re part of the problem, or if we’re part of the solution. So, a lying tongue hates the one it crushes. So, what is a lying tongue? I mean, we could probably say that’s sort of self-evident. It's…it's the tongue that doesn’t speak what is true. But there are so many nuances to the way that we lie to each other aren't there? Like we sort of think that we’re telling the truth as long as we have some sort of morsel of truth in the thing that we are fabricating but we have a…we are like being deceptive. So, if we’re willing to embellish and puff up or the opposite, to diminish or crush down the truth, the actual truth, in order to manipulate somebody or in order to hide behind something and try to protect ourself from exposure then we’re not only gonna be crushing people, we’re gonna be doing it with hatred. That is a massive, massive thing to realize. If we’re gonna flatter, if we’re gonna manipulate, if we’re gonna nuance the things that we’re gonna say and they aren’t really what we mean in order to kinda like get close to somebody or get into somebody's life because they have something that we want or they have something that we need, that we think that we need, we need to get close to them, then it's going to cause a ruin everywhere ultimately because it's foundation is false. It's a lie. It's gonna crush. And there's something in me that’s saying stop. Like don't keep trying to reexplain this with…with other metaphors or analogies. Like this is enough. Its stark. A lying tongue hates those it crushes and a smooth mouth causes ruin. So, if that's you, then this is where the road is going. If that's not you, then this is what to avoid because it brings destruction.

Prayer:

Father, we come before You on this and it rings true and it's convicting, and it does penetrate. It makes us reflect. It makes us consider but the deeper that we consider the more we realize that our entire culture is based on this kind of sidestepping. We are a world of people so afraid of being exposed the truth of who we are that we do everything possible to nuance and to hide when we are all guilty. Like, were any of us, anybody to be fully exposed then we would be fearful of the judgment that would come against us, but we are all in the same boat. It would happen to anybody. And You have invited us into the light. You have essentially said, “that's the world. That's how it works. It's a system built in falseness and held captive by the author of deception and lies.” You have invited us to be free, to walk into the light, to be in the truth. And no matter what that may bring, to know that we don't have a divided heart or a divided mind. We don't always have to figure out which personality we have to put on depending on what circumstances we’re in. We just get to be who You made. This is freedom indeed, but it flies in the face of the structures of the world that we live in. And, so, living like this…well…it would indeed be living like You lived Jesus. It would look like You. And we can see the raging of the world against You. And, so, we scratch our heads because it doesn't make sense because freedom is available, but the system is so rigged against freedom that we find ourselves just trying to find ways to cope and manage when You are offering freedom, that we can live in the light, that we can live in the truth. So, come Holy Spirit and help us over these coming days as we meditate upon this, as we catch ourselves being false or as we become more and more aware of the falseness around us, as we begin to see it. We need Your help to navigate it. There’s no way we’ll be able to figure this out. So, come Holy Spirit we open ourselves to You, well up within. Lead and guide our steps, the thoughts and intents of our hearts. We pray in the mighty name, the victorious name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it's the website, it’s where you find out what's going on around here. And there’s always something or another going on around here.

Kind of have to be under a rock to not know that today is election day in the United States. Probably no matter where you are in the world. And, yeah, we’ve been on the radar kind of all year, with all kinds of stuff and Covid hasn't helped and there’s just a lot of swirl going on. And I make it a very, very specific, very intentional point to do what we do here, to take the rhythm of the Scriptures and let it be a part of our lives every day. And I feel like the Scriptures In our lives can comment on what's going on in our world better than me being some…just another noisemaker. So, I would like to give as simple, as trivial, as obvious of advice as I can give you. Maybe you’re one of the people who have already voted. Great. Awesome. If you’re going to the polls today, pray, listen, obey and then walk away in peace. There's nothing else to do here. I mean I've lived long enough that I've been through several elections and even from my youth I cannot think of an election where the rhetoric hasn’t amped up to the point where we are led to believe that what we are about to do is the most pivotal thing we have ever done in the nation's history, maybe in the history of all humanity. That's…that's not true. The most important thing we have ever done is to become a part of the family of God. We are a part of a kingdom that is upon this earth that spans and crosses every single border. This is our allegiance - the kingdom of God. And God will not be toppled my brothers and sisters over this or anything else. And, you know how this goes. This ends at some point and somebody is…is the winner and that's gonna leave about half the people bumbed and about half the people rejoicing. And we can all do what people do these days - get on the Internet and just start making noise, start sending out memes. Take all of the divisiveness that has been amped up this entire year and really live into it, like really live into it and make this country an “us versus them” understanding that we are making the body of Christ, then divided in “us versus them” because so many of us are believers who are completely and totally opposite in their political convictions. So, the last thing that I have to say isn’t my opinion, isn't anything to do with me other than it's my voice reminding you. We have a Savior. His name is Jesus. He loved us when we were still His enemy. He loved us as a people despite our animosity and he laid his life down that we might live. And just mere hours before He did that, He was sitting with his friends having his last meal. And at that last meal He said something that must reverberate through everything about our lives, including all of what happens today. He said a new commandment I give to you, that you love one another as I have loved you. So, friends it gets pretty simple then. When you pray and listen and obey and walk away in peace and love one another as we have been loved as we come out of this, the most divisive of all seasons that we experience as a nation every four years. If there...if there ever were a time to be a city on a hill, to be the salt of the earth, to be light in the darkness, to be the hands and feet of Jesus to love one another as we have been loved, well it that would be coming out of this wouldn’t it. And, so, let's walk through this day at peace loving one another as we have been loved.

And that's it for today, I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi everyone, this is Lisa the Encourager. I’m calling tonight to pray for our elderly parents or just our parents in general. I’ve certainly called in for our children many times, but I definitely want to focus on our parents today. I know Howard called in about his mom being in rehab and how difficult that was and how she looked very weak. And I just want to pray for him and his mom. And I have a similar situation with my dad going through that. So, I can empathize with your situation Howard. And also, Charlie called in about his parents and them being diagnosed with Covid. So, I want to also pray for his parents and anyone else out there that is going through a difficult time with their parent’s health and how stressful that can be and making a lot of hard decisions. And I’m just gonna pray that God is gonna guide us through those things and that they will be as peaceful and as comfortable as possible. So, let’s go to the Lord in prayer about all of our parents. And also, I wanted also to just say, I respectfully admire Brian for what he went through with his mom and continued to be a ministry to all of us. So, I just thank you again Brian for that because I know that had to be a hard time when you lost your mom. Dear God, I thank you so much for Pastor Brian and what he means to all of us and also thank you God for these…all of our parents Lord that are getting older in life. And I just pray God that your hand will be upon them, that they can recover, and you can comfort them where they need your comfort…

Hey DAB family this is Danny from Southern Oregon I wonder if you could please pray for my 15-year-old grandson Christopher and his friends. The other day these four friends skipped school and they were heading to one of the boy’s houses. And Christopher’s not allowed there. And anyway, shortly after he left school the school called my son and his mom, and they immediately began looking for him and texting him and calling him. And it appears that Christopher got a little bit worried that he was and I get into trouble so when he was about two blocks from this boy’s house he ended up going home to his mom’s and that was about 11 o’clock in the morning. And at 1230 the police were dispatched to a fatality. One of the…my grandsons’ best friends accidentally shot and killed one of the other boys and the third boy was standing right next to him and I’m sure is suffering a lot of PTSD from what he witnessed. And I know…I’m so thankful my grandson was not there but he’s so upset that he’s lost his best friend and they ended up arresting the boy for murder because some things just didn’t add up. And so please…please pray for Tony. He was the one standing next to him and ended up just covered head to toe in brain matter. It was point-blank. And…and pray for Dustin who’s been arrested for murder, that the truth come out and maybe they would all come to know the Lord through this. Thank you.

This is Kathy from Kentucky. I have a different kind of prayer request. I’m gonna take a test in martial arts specifically, Shaolin in two weeks. If I pass, I’ll be a 2nd degree brown belt and well on my way to black belt. When I was a girl growing up, I was not allowed to play team sports __ passed after I got out of high school. And I would’ve been good at some kind of sport. I trained on the swim team the summer before I graduated from high school and then after that I was too old. So, it’s important to me to be able to do something at my age, 67. So, please pray for my martial arts test Shaolin on the second Saturday of November the 14th.

Hi this is Julie from California I just started listening to the Daily Audio Bible about a week and a half ago. It was recommended through another podcast that I listen to and it has been up total and complete godsend. The last three years or so have been just really horrible. My marriage was almost at its end. My father-in-law passed away. We sold everything and moved out of state to take care of my mother-in-law at a very remote place where I had no support and found out she had Alzheimer’s and ended up staying for 2 ½ years when our plan was to stay a year. And then my dad passed away while we were gone, and my mom was diagnosed with leukemia. She’s in remission and doing phenomenally well praise God, but also there were issues with my son and now he no longer talks to us and I lost my job and we filed bankruptcy. Like, just thing piled on after thing piled on after thing and really kind of wrecked my relationship with God for a long time because I really couldn’t read my Bible, I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t do journaling. I mean I was on…I was on a regular track of reading the Bible in the year every year for like three or four years and then I just stopped. And this is miraculous because I actually am feeling like I’m getting the word in me and feeling more joy and I just am really thankful for you guys and I would just appreciate prayers where…where you feel like praying for me and a…a word. I’m happy to hear a word if you have a word for me because I need God so much right now. Thank you. God bless.

Hi family this is Peggy in California. And I, like so many of you, just absolutely love this community and appreciate it so much. It’s a place to share our deepest hurts and our joys and it’s just wonderful and I thank you all for participating and making it what it is. I’m calling today like many others who have called for my adult children. In particular one of my sons, he’s a twin, actually. I got a call from his twin yesterday telling me that his brother’s not doing well, he’s very depressed and seems to be disinterested in…in life, in not moving forward. Recently had a breakup with a girlfriend that I think what’s…he’s exhibiting is actually something that started before that. So, of course, I’m heartbroken and I worry about him. And he was raised in the church, but he doesn’t seem to have a very strong connection if any. So, I just pray that would lift Mason up in your prayers. And I thank you for doing that for me. Have a good day.

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diyunho · 4 years

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The Joker x Reader - “What Death Tastes Like” Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

You’re done sampling the food that J brought over, quite annoyed he lied about the crepes; it was probably the only reason why you opened the door for him. Or maybe it was a different motive that you don’t like to think of because… what’s the point anyway?

“Crane said he added a new ingredient to your capsules,” The Joker brings it up. “I have no idea how he was able to get Cromyxillium since it’s just in experimental phase; I suppose he has awesome connections,” your guest chews one last bite of cashew salad.

“I know, he texted me but I didn’t answer back… I’m mad at him… I’m mad at everything these days,“ you admit and The King of Gotham piles up the empty styrofoam boxes, calculating how much money Scarecrow spent on a product that might be able to improve your condition.

Y/N watches him absent minded, too preoccupied with her problems to realize The King of Gotham is attentive to her words.

“I used to help my dad develop my remedy, still nothing works and he entirely immersed himself in this ridiculous task of saving me from terminal cancer. He ignored Evelyn for weeks until she left: she understood what he was doing up to a certain level; when it became an obsession…” and you sigh, aggravated by your father’s stubbornness. “I told him he has to patch up their relationship; I don’t him to be all alone after I’m gone…” you sulk and J grabs the containers, dumping them in the trashcan near the table.

“Yeah, Crane will probably be very lonely without you…” and J stops his innuendo when he comprehends how it sounds. “On a positive note,” The Clown Prince of Crime stretches, “I’m actually here to ensure you’re ok taking the capsules containing the new ingredient. Your father asked me to and I am notorious for being this…this selfless person ready to offer my services,” J over exaggerates his ability to sympathize with your situation. “He also warned me not to try anything funny. I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to share any of my funny jokes; doesn’t make any sense,” the distorted interpretation of your parent’s threat almost prompts Y/N’s smile.

“You probably pushed for this visit, taking advantage of the fact that me and my dad had a fight, hm?” you bluntly describe the truth and J can’t defend his absurd statements because your cell phone starts ringing; you glare at the screen, debating if you should answer or not.

“Is that him?” The Joker inquires and you nod a yes while deciding to accept Scarecrow’s call.

“Hello…” you sneak out on the patio as J figures he should walk to his car in order to retrieve the duffel bag fixed in advance for his sleepover.

*****************

Your conversation lasted for about 20 minutes thus The Joker jumped in the shower lacking any type of permission from Y/N; perhaps it could be the reason for your abrupt intrusion in the cozy bathroom.

“Can I take a shower with you?” he hears your question and for once J is uncertain of his reply, yet he is not the kind of person to show reluctance no matter the context.

“It’s your place, isn’t it?” he grumbles and distinguishes your silhouette beyond the steamy glass panels quickly stripping your clothes.

The Joker continues to scrub his skin, undisturbed by your request: he simply doesn’t care if you join him or not.

“I’m using your stuff,” J announces and your arms suddenly hug him from behind.

“You can use whatever you want,” your lips kiss the dragon tattoo on his back a couple of times and he doesn’t even turn around to peek.

“I gotta wash my hair,” he mutters and you brush your lips against his shoulder, sweetly offering:

“I can wash it for you.”

“I got it!” Y/N’s demand is cut off immediately; you’re so humiliated by his lack of interest you curse the dumb choice of being so straightforward: it’s not the first time he shows zero attraction towards his daughter’s best friend.

Your arms release the embrace and The Joker reprises his important chore while hearing you fumbling with toiletry items: you are finishing off your routine at an increased speed, willing to exit out of there as soon as possible.

A few minutes of silence, then The Clown Prince of Crime finally pronounces an insolent remark:

“I hope you saw a naked man before, Y/N! I don’t wanna be accused of traumatizing you. If it really makes you feel better, you can wash my hair.”

No smarty pants attitude rendered upon him and J gazes where you stood only to notice you’re gone: after quietly tiptoeing out of the shower, Y/N took her medications and prepared for the night ahead; she plans for J to sleep in the second bedroom at the small cabin, thus she will spend the night on the couch in the living room, watching TV until she’ll doze off.

“Miss Crane,” The Joker emerges from the bathroom in a t-shirt and shorts. “Are we cuddling on that couch or do we have further arrangements?”

“Spare bedroom,” you grouchily mumble, getting comfortable under the blanket.

“I thought we’re cuddling buddies,” he pretends to be offended at your affirmation mostly since pushing the limit is encoded in his wretched DNA.

“We’re not cuddling buddies!”

“My bad,” he grins. “I guess I was misled by your actions at the mansion.”

He has such a nerve bringing that up!

“I’m not the type of person to force myself on women,” The Joker innocently informs, “but can I watch TV with you? I’ll camp on the floor by the sofa which is my way to hint I need a bunch of soft blankets to pile up so I won’t break my back. I mean, it’s not very nice of you to deny me access on the couch; must I remind you I granted you free passage in my bed when you asked for it?”

“Are you for reals?!” an increasingly fuming Y/N shrieks slowly rolls out of her relaxing nest. “You were horrible to me and then tried to make it better just because you worried I’d tell Emma or my father! Well, rest assured: I’m not a snitch! You truly don’t have to extend your good will to such lengths on my account! It’s not necessary, ok?! You don’t have to drive here to bring my capsules, you don’t have to bring me food. You don’t have to do anything!!”

“Watch your tone!” J growls, displeased with your feisty attitude. “Do I have to remind you who barged into my privacy to take a peek at me naked?”

Your eyes are big at his derogatory insinuation: he’s playing stupid regarding the incident.

“I barged into your privacy?!” you shout, aggravated. “How can…”

“Umm…” The Joker interrupts, “…your nose is bleeding.”

You didn’t even detect the blood trickling down your skin and you touch it, confused. The King of Gotham watches you a few hesitant steps before you unexpectedly collapse to the ground. “Hey!” his voice echoes in and out. “Hey what’s wrong?... … Can you hear me?”

There’s this high pitch taking over your mind and you can barely discern bits and pieces of a conversation J is carrying with your father. You’re not even aware you’re in a moving vehicle, that’s how much you lost grip on reality.

“What’s in for me if I bring her over, huh?”

“I compensated you!! Two Nightmare ampoules, a small fortune on the black market! Get off your fucking high horse and bring me my daughter, would you?!” an exasperated parent admonishes.

“Maybe I will stop the car and let nature follow its course,” The Joker fights back Scarecrow’s affront, yet your dad has plenty on his plate .

“If you do such a thing and she dies, I’ll hold you responsible and trust me when I say you don’t want me to hold you responsible!!!” the serious ultimatum prompts your chauffeur to take a sharp turn on Highway 68. “Am I on speaker?” Jonathan checks without given his apparent opponent a chance to rationalize his behavior.

“Yes!” J snarls, pissed at the stupid rescue mission entrusted to him.

“Y/N, hang in there! I’ll get stuff ready by the time you arrive, alright?” Scarecrow encourages his daughter, afraid of the severe consequences of the experimental drug she ingested.

“Mmmm,” you moan in your daze, not being able to respond.

“Keep her alert; we can’t have her sink into a coma! I have to formulate an IV mixture to flush the Cromyxillium out of her system!”

“She’s completely out!” The Joker states although there’s nobody at the other end of the line anymore. “Who’s we anyway?!” he huffs and elects to give it a go regardless. “Y/N, how many kids we would have had if we were married?... … … … … I think the precise answer is at least 4, am I correct?” J blabbers on since you don’t engage in the conversation. “Great…I’ll be held liable for your demise,” he bites his lower lip, vexed things didn’t shine too bright for him; in fact, no matter how hard The Clown tries the blame it on somebody else, he dug his own hole on this one.

****************

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in the darkness, but the sharp poke in your arm makes you groan in pain.

“I’m sorry honey,” your father whispers. “We have to keep the IV for an hour, then I can take the needle out.”

“D-daddy…” you find the strength to stammer. “Am I… am I dying…?”

“No… No… I won’t let you die…” Scarecrow kisses your forehead, upset you don’t seem fine at all. “It’s my fault, I didn’t think you’ll have a reaction to Cromyxillium, not the way I bound the particles with the rest of the molecules.”

“You didn’t test it?” The Joker intervenes into a dialogue he should steer clear off.

“No, I didn’t have time to test it!” Jonathan hatefully stares at the man he wishes to strangle on the spot. “I don’t have time for anything!! Do you understand? My daughter is dying!! I’m not even that kind of doctor yet she’s breathing nevertheless due to my capability of manipulating compounds! Y/N would be 6 feet under with traditional chemotherapy, which proves I am doing a few things right!!! If Emma was sick, I’m certain you wouldn’t run your mouth like you do now!”

J wiggles in his chair, definitely about to erupt at Crane’s justified tirade.

“I’m so cold…” you utter, the ruckus adding to your general discomfort.

“That’s normal, it means the intravenous remedy is working; I’ll bring more covers,” Jonathan strolls out of the room only to gasp upon his return: J is snuggling with you, totally oblivious to your parent’s stupefied question: “What the hell are you doing??!!”

“I got off my high horse and I’m keeping her warm,” J stresses the importance of his random deed. “It’s not cheap thought! I demand…”

“You demand nothing!” Scarecrow covers you with more layers, irritated The King of Gotham has the audacity to milk out benefits in these circumstances; the latest wants to protest Jonathan’s vehement denial while not being conceded the prospect of such luxury:

“Dad…” you reach out your left hand and he sits by you, keeping the shaky fingers on his face. “Did… did you call Evelyn?” you barely blink, exhausted from the intensive treatment.

“I will…”

“You have to; I don’t want you to end up alone… She loves you… You could have more children with her… or at least one more…”

Jonathan Crane inhales, flustered his daughter is worried about him when she should worry about herself.

“I could have more kids, but don’t you know you’re irreplaceable?” he kisses your wrist and pretends to brush off the agony building up in his heart. “Don’t cry honey,” he wipes your tears, then casually shoves The Joker’s arm since is wrapped around your waist. “Your help is no longer required,” Scarecrow hints and his advice falls on deaf ears: J has important news that might switch the balance in his favor.

“I also called Emma on my way here to report about Y/N’s ordeal; she’s cutting her trip to New York short and I received strict orders to make myself useful until her arrival. Now, unless you want to deal with another pain in the ass besides your offspring, I suggest you tolerate my presence!”

Jonathan curls up in a ball on the vacant side of your bed, relieved to see you’re napping. "I didn’t feel the urge to punch someone in ages!” he sneers.

“Likewise!” The Joker barks too from behind your shoulder. “How come she passed out again?” he switches the subject and Jonathan explains without any trace of enthusiasm.

“I included a serum that promotes nice dreams in her IV bag: she’ll be in a deep sleep and envision things she likes.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. I’m sure I’ll pop up in there then,” the excited Clown Prince of Crime emphasizes to your father’s disapproval.

“I said things she likes!”

**************

10:12am

“Hello Miss Crane,” you are greeted as you narrowly open your eyes; it takes a minute to recollect from the dizziness and confusion of last night’s episode.

“Where’s my dad?” you lick your dry lips, noticing J by the windows.

“At the lab; he’s consulting with some doctors or whatnot and left me in charge,” he effortlessly forges half a truth with half a lie.

“Where’s my phone? I want to talk to him.”

“I think I left it at the cabin, I was in a hurry to get you here.”

“You drove me?...” you skeptically interrogate.

“Yeah, you don’t remember?”

“No…” you stretch while touching the band aid placed where the needle used to be. “Where’s Emma?”

“On her way back to Gotham; she called several times and tried talking to you but you were out.”

“Was I?...”

“U-hum,” J shakes his head. “I reckon she promised she’ll assist with your birthday party next week and she’s terrified you’ll kick the bucket in the meantime. She didn’t precisely articulate these sentences, but I‘m her dad: I can read in between the lines,” the proud Joker blurs out, loving the shocked look you display. “Am I invited to the celebration?”

You signal a no and he’s not discouraged by your vehement denial.

“Can I bring Mara?”

“Absolutely not!!!”

“Oh, so I’m actually invited but not her?”

He takes advantage of the speechless Y/N, setting up the stage for his own benefit:

“I can work with that,” he glares at you, gratified. “However, I can’t show at a party without a date; it’s not dignifying for a man of my social status. This leaves us with only one solution.”

“NO!” you protest because you can estimate his proposal.

“Cool, then we have a deal Miss Crane: you got yourself a date!”

“I already have a date!”

“Who?” The Joker smirks.

“Sam is my date for my birthday.”

“Sam as in Bane’s son?”

“Yes,” you squirm under the blankets, uneasy at the concept of having J as partner for the upcoming bash.

“Pfft,” he huffs. “That’s a huuuge load of baloney,” your own words from last night are used by the obnoxious green haired menace. “I’ll pick you up Wednesday at 3pm, ok?”

“The party is here at my house!”

“Ok, then you pick me up at 3pm.”

“I’m not picking you up!” you scoff at his nonsense.

“Damn, you’re hard to negotiate with,” The Joker scratches his chin. “Fine, I’ll bring myself here.”

You contemptuously stare at him, appalled he keeps on insisting when you declined his plan. On top of everything, the whole universe is getting the confirmation today that Jonathan Crane’s genius is frankly skipping a generation since you enunciate:

“Don’t be late!”