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theoldmagoobaddee · 11 months

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Communism in South Africa?....

Communism is a type of government rule that occurs as the result of a nation, in which one part of society oppressed the other; whether it is one tribe or skin tone oppressing the other or more likely, the usual, global and historic oppression of superior - in the physical, spiritual, ancestral, academically and vocationally ( when permitted acess) as well as socially and psychologically - superior Black People or Africans, being oppressed by inferior whites.

This absolutely sore-loser type of behaviour belongs in the C20th and preceding, never-ending history and along with all the grief, misery and wasted lives, spent by the ruling classes; of ancient history and modern - up until the last century - spent on slave pits, rows of men, shackled, tied up and chained and forced to labour for the rest of their natural lives for the (OPPORTUNITY! PACK FISH IN ALASKA!!! $20 000!!!") to build some pharoah a monument to his 'greatness'.

In what? Human trafficking? Just a modern term for slavery. Inciting slavery through a refusal to take action is unforgivable complacency but slavery and the fact that it is tolerated stems many times from a lack of information and exposure to anything remotely related or like it.

Trafficking, unfortunately, is a form of self-harm. It is not beneficial. It is not an intelligent choice. Nor is it in any way necessary. It is, rather, a form of self-abuse and nation-abuse that is intolerable. Although, I do agree that some need to learn and the only manner in which you can convince a trafficker of the horror he or she has caused the world, their family and friends, the town or region or even country from which they come, is to chain them to a lead rope of shackled people, themselves. They have no idea. No-one does and to be exposed to it can create such a psychological shock, one can enter into a temporary state of madness, denial and it is also a dangerous state because that is when one; out of a desperate need to be unaware or "in another place", the character which makes up the personality, will splinter, forming a new 'personality' or character, who is equipped with whatever traits are needed to survive this ordeal. This is also known as being a schitzo. Or a sufferer of Disassociative Disorder, which is close but not quite schizophrenia.

youtube

This song called Feel by Davido is all about the African Refugee, Displaced Persons and Asylum Seekers. I 💟 the poet's intro...

This is what has been happening in refugee camps all over Africa. Camp residents have been displaced. They have been chased from their childhood home and all that they find familiar. They have been prejudiced against, in the most humiliating manner that people from the first world can't begin to understand. They have been beaten, strangled, stabbed, shot and been plotted against, been attacked whilst asleep, whilst carrying things, whilst carrying children, whilst wounded and whilst they are spiritually, psychologically, emotionally, financially and materially wounded and unaware.

Because they should be in a bed, with a hot water bottle and a kindly nurse, to record their vital signs every few hours, to force them to wash and to beg them to eat.

That zombie state is a classic sign of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or P.T.S.D. When they do not find themselves in a bed or even under a roof and another trauma and another and another; daily or multiple times a day because they have to often come into contact with their abusers, they develope Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or C.P.T.S.D.

This mental but treatable mental disorder happens as the result of a traumatic life experience such as a war, displacement from one's home country or even destitution.

When one is already suffering from P.T.S.D. and is then exposed to repeated traumas, C.P.T.S.D. can develope. It is worth sheltering and shielding someone already suffering from P.T.S.D. from exposure to more harm or traumatic events. It is also a well-known fact amongst therapy and counselling professionals, that the sooner at least one therapy counselling session is facilitated, directly after the trauma, the more positive the outcome. This is imperative, in order for the client, who at the very least can achieve functionality as the result of that early counselling session; who can return to work and complete everyday tasks, without the trauma debilitating the person.

Africa as a whole, is suffering from a sense of depression, grief, suffering from a malady of mental illnesses and disorders, from addictions ranging from alcohol dependency to drug addiction to a range of anti-social behaviour patterns.

These anti-social behaviour patterns I call Black Angst, which is an outright rebellion against colonial and global tyranny against Africa; which incidently is the breadbasket of the world. The oppression and inequity experienced by Black People is at the root of this Black Angst, as well as the repercussions of this oppression. From warring with one another to poverty to a lack of access, even when an African is very well-educated; even when over-qualified, opportunities are still denied.

So, when poor nations are liberated from an oppressor, what normally happens is, because the socio-economic caste gap is so large, communism usually becomes the only option for a country with a few, greedy elite who take advantage of the whole country or continent by investing or starting businesses and then running sweatshops or factories or businesses that either underpay people or just don't pay people at all; making use of forced labour brokers. As the result of so few people being able to pay municipal rates and taxes, people doing income tax fraud or making money on too small a scale to pay tax, as well as people renting or squatting or sharing and not owning properties - avoiding the trap set up by the global financial institutions who try to control them with repo rates and inflation and this devastates personal and home loan repayment rates. the country is scrapped as a viable investment option - in other words, they have realised that they can't take you for a poes anymore and therefore don't want to do business any longer - the country is demoted to junk status.

Not demoted. Banished from global financial governing bodies. From now on, we have to listen and not talk; like other completely fucked African countries who also decided that, to pay THEM to rob US again, is fucking madness; short of being a bit slow.

Africa supplies the world. With food, with mining products, with raw materials and with an easy target, who usually needs ANY business, as we are starving, refugees, under siege, sick with malaria with not a R30 ($2) to spare or without a functional government to protect us (in some countries).

As a result of this situation, that sinking ship feeling, an opposition party will try to win votes (or get money) by suggesting the nationalization of banks, mines, utility service providers, farms, supermarkets. Basically, everything nailed down and anything worth any money. This is so that government leaders can grease their own pockets before the whole shithouse goes up in flames. And then buy a Greek island and disappear with last year's Miss Brazil.

Then, communism is the only option left. Communism is like prison for everybody, regardless of whether you are a doctor or labourer: you get geskaalde rations of everything that everyone else also gets. There is no variety, everything is grey and colourless and you have to get drunk on fermented sorghum stuff; starch or whatever.

Before this happens, let's stop the HUNGER GAMES: THE SOUTH AFRICAN REMAKE from happening. Please. God.

#Youtube

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my-life-literally · 1 year

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stage

I just have to get some negative thoughts out.

First off, I am not depressed. Ok...so...

1. My brother described himself as the most stable sibling, and referred to my depression as instability.

- I feel bad because I sat my brother and sister down once and acknowledge that it must have been hard to watch me go through that. I think I said I was sorry if I caused them to worry. My brother said it was ok, my sister said I was selfish. Ok. that was years ago. I don’t think I would have done that if I had broken a bone. And I don’t think my brother would compare his apparent stability to mine, if I had a broken bone. It really hurts my feelings that both of my siblings characterize me as problematic in some way.

2. I feel like, I am veering into a role in a lot of brown families, of the oldest, unmarried, childless daughter becoming the eventual caregiver to her parents. My brother is planning to move away. And my sister had shown that she doesn’t care about anyone but herself.

3. I have isolated myself. I am afraid that I have a hard time making and keeping friends. Everyone has at least one person, but my one person has changed forever. I feel annoyed by the people that like me, and far away from the people I like. So, I think for the first time in my life, I feel lonely. I love my own company. But after my last relationship, I have felt actually lonely.

4. I feel like it’s all on me. It’s liberating, and I am afraid sometimes. Honestly the thing that is hurting me the most is that my siblings don’t see a lot of things. My family doesn’t see a lot of things. I feel very on my own.

- No one in my life knows I was sexually assaulted in 2016 or in my last relationship. Except my counsellor.

-No one really knows me. And I don’t trust anyone.

5. I am learning how much trauma I have gone through. And that so many things that I thought were not normal, and then thought was normal, is in fact not normal.

6. I don’t feel strong enough to be in a relationship. Like I am not one of those girls who can demand things, and snap fingers. I used to be. When I thought it was empowering and cute. But now I realize that men hold treatment like that against women. And I don’t want to be that type of woman. I don’t want to demand. Or explain. I want to show up respectfully and be respected. I did that, and it didn’t stick. It was too late. They already hated me, long before I got there.

I guess thats all - I thought more was weighting on my, but it’s mostly the family stuff. Some of these things I can change, like not isolating myself so much. One woman who I wanted to be friends with told me that she felt intimidated by this group we were apart of and she dropped off. She said she felt “less educated.” And that she didn’t have things together. I felt so sad and bad. LIke, girl, none of us do. But then I think maybe she just didn’t like me. Like my sister. Maybe...I just know less and less how to related to people. Women. And Men.

I feel like I was raised in a cult, but I wasn’t. And I acted normal to the world. But behind the curtain there was all kinds of abuse. Abuse is spirit hacking. Hacking into our spirits.

Oh yeah, and I wanted to get a dog. And my dad was saying it’s a lot of work. And I felt sad because my sister gets a dog, a husband, a family and I can’t have one damn thing. Except work. Except making money. My family have always deterred me from love. Love in anyone else aside from them. I get why my sister struck out like she did. There is no choice. It’s family or not. There is not bridge between my family and the outside world. The only things between my family and the outside world is a stage.

I am going to buy my own place and get a dog. I may even get a dog before that.

#everything L.#stage

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moishecampbell · 2 years

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please talk more about your thoughts on mary / judaism i am 👁

sure i mean the thing about mary being jewish is that it's less of a headcanon and more of a . specific type of ghostfacers effect true-and-not-true-at-the-same-time thing cause at the end of the day spn is a show about family trauma made by a bunch of jewish people and i think way too much of this fandom feels way too comfortable just completely ignoring it but it's whatever. hopefully this won't get too long but here we go

first there's houses of the holy as a stand alone - and obviously this might just be me cause i never see anyone talk about it but for me, when you have a jewish woman writing about a child who was taught that [angels] are watching over his whole family, only to see his mom burning and his house torn apart, making him resent his god, it has very clear undertones. it's why i'm really sensitive about dean and faith and the insinuation that he Needs to find faith again to heal or whatever... absolutely not. let him stay mad. there's also this quote that i just loooove cause it's exactly how i see dean and faith, cause you still see those moments where he still wants to believe but he's just so angry and traumatized. either way. obviously i suppose the idea of losing faith after a tragedy isn't exclusive to jews and i don't want to say this is obviously a metaphor for That but in this specific case it just feels unavoidable you know?

then there's the michael brainwashing which is really interesting and more headcanon territory and idk if this is what you wanted but. i think that mary has this weird fog in her head over everything faith related bc of it and it's a really interesting mindscape to explore but the bottom line is that i'd just like to think that mary would practice judaism as a way to feel connected to her past and her parents. she threw away so much so she can have a safe and Normal life and it just sounds so lonely, to live when no one knows who you are. i think that esp if she wasn't much of a believer before the mindwipe messed with her head then maybe she'd feel weird doing it around john, like, she wouldn't want him to press on where did this come from, so i think she would do little things like light candles on shabbat with dean when john would be away for some reason, and well, dean lighting candles with mary is basically canon thanks to that one moment in 12.04 so #confirmed thanks davy. honestly i think that when faith is a way to connect to your past and feel connected to your family but also literal angels fucked up your life it creates a super complicated relationship to faith and they are losers and cowards for not exploring this with neither claire or mary

and well i suppose the meat of it is hunting as a metaphor which is obviously something i think about a lot cause it's so central to the show but i'm kind of reluctant to talk about bc of hunting being what it is and you know how they're basically supernatural cops going around killing things that are genetically different etc etc so it comes with a miiiiile of bad implications but like. at the end of the day. it's about how mary's death completely cut off the boys from their family's history and background, it's how mary's death made dean resent her faith and led to him cutting off sam from it completely, it's how for both mary and sam, no matter how much they tried to change and bury and hide who they are Something still Came For Them and burned their house down and forced their family back on the road. esp the theme of losing connection to your family history and culture is something that they explicitly parallel with judaism in 8.13 so even though i dislike the men of letters and the henry retcon... that episode is very beautiful in that sense

#this DID get long👍🏼#obviously a lot of this is kind of very personal and obviously based on personal experience that is not universal. but #btw to clarify what i mean about feeling too comfortable ignoring this i obviously don't mean different headcanons or reinterpretations #i mean specifically sections of fandom that feel free to dismiss themes of generational trauma in favor of gay interpretations that would #make the story more relatable to them Um maube take a moment to consider this isn't yours to dismiss #anyways. *gets off soapbox*#✡

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years

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the wolf should’ve been afraid of me.

Titans 3.04

just under the wire! ... i hope.

like with the previous review, i’m typing this up as i see the episode. here we go!

spoilers ahead.

1. ... well. that was an interesting cold open.

1.25. i don’t know whether to admire this show’s restraint when it comes to gotham and its excesses, particularly arkham asylum. it’d be easy to go hammer and tongs, like suicide squad (2016) did, or any number of bat media did, at a tropey, colourful~~insanity~~ that can be quite damaging, casting mental illness in strangeness and criminality. it definitely shows gotham as... separate from the rest of the country, its own ecosystem of heroes and villains, a sort of rogue state.

but that ecosystem is still human, with its heroes needing to clip parts of themselves away just to survive, growing old and needing to be recycled, its villains languishing in the same kinds of systems that fail everybody else who needs to be helped. it’s a quieter, tenser sort of wrongness: not strange enough that you can dissociate, but not close enough that you can completely empathise. gotham is its own creature.

1.5. i know that the reasoning behind this is more doylist than anything, but i’m so glad that joker was killed off with little fanfare right at the start of the season. he is the one man in the batverse that’s transcended its confines as this sort of ethereal boogeyman/eternal edgelord and to justify his presence in the series would mean giving him this tired, overblown importance and too much of a stab at colourful, tropey “madness” in this otherwise-subdued series. i wish all batmedia would follow suit and get rid of this fucker.

1.75. so jason is bucking scarecrow’s control! or reminding him of who exactly holds all the cards right now. circling back to what i talked about in the last review, it’s remarkable just how little time it’s been since jason’s “death” and he’s already got ‘minions’ and elaborately set up plans to track, break and kill the titans. just how long has he been planning this? when did he first look at WE weapons prototypes and think that’s something i can use to blow somebody up? and the most unsettling question: did he plan his own death at the hands of the joker just so that he could break batman?

at this point it’s obvious that the scarecrow at least started jason down this path, but it’s frightening just how far he’s travelled already.

1.8. aaagh, less than one minute in! i’ll shut up.

2. conner washing his hands at the sink reminds me that he was directly in the line of explosion when hank got blown up and he’s probably got atomised hank-bits all over his skin that he’s desperately trying to wash off.

... you’re welcome.

2.25. conner, don’t you speak to gar fucking logan like that, sir, no!

2.3. if anything it’s the lex part of him that gave him the knowhow to recognise the weapon and build a de-activator for it.

anyway, for that ‘half-breed’ and ‘talking tiger’ comment?

(i wish, tho, that we actually see conner more interested in the superman part of his legacy, like maybe listening to stories from gar, or even better, dick, so we get a better idea of the pressure he’s feeling to live up to that part of him and not the part that’s lex.)

((i talked about conner’s stages of moral development in his introductory episode last season, but i wonder if the next stage of his self-actualisation would be to further integrate the parts of himself and realise that they are only parts and he, conner, is an entirely different person unto himself that can make decisions on how to use what he has and what he knows. his superman abilities can be used to destroy. his lex knowledge can be used to save.))

3. oh dawn :((

3.25. is this the last we see of dawn and hank? i mean, we know donna is coming back; would it be a stretch to think they’ll try to have a go at resurrecting hank as well?

3.5. “deathstroke didn’t make us into killers.” good, because deathstroke didn’t make jason a killer either. there’s a missing step there you need to be looking for, dick.

3.75. dick did try to break the cycle, step away from gotham, run from the possibility that he could turn into batman. it didn’t help; he couldn’t fully withdraw from his vigilante persona the same time he loathed it, and batman literally haunted him both asleep and awake. but maybe gotham doesn’t have to turn anybody into anything. maybe gotham has nothing to do with it at all. it’s about taking responsibility, realising some sacrifices are pure bullshit, and building an actual family instead of merely a team.

anyway: hugs!

(oh, also? mr “i hate flying”? i mean, there’s perfectly valid reasons to hate flying that’s not related to childhood trauma, but then again, this guy was literally a ‘flying grayson’ once. also also, remember that he also gets sea-sick. must’ve a lot of fun stories to tell.)

4. ooh that gar/kory confrontation was brief but cool!

listen, i have never seen a psychiatrist with that extravagant an office and SIR I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW HOW--

4.5. kory’s so unused to reaching out for help and it’s breaking my heart that HPG likely is some kind of impostor that’s maybe causing her symptoms in the first place.

kory and dick have mostly been apart this season but it’s remarkable how their journeys have paralleled each other; kory processes her grief, isolation and existential dread into a determination to take care of this new family she has, no matter what it takes; dick does much the same, forging ahead with plans and solutions until he has no fuel left in him and spirals into a massive breakdown.

4.25. listen titans this really is a TERRIBLE continuity error. we aren’t goldfish; we can clearly remember that two minutes ago it was gar’s upper arm that was burned, not his forearm. COME ON.

“sensory deprivation tank” *SNORT*

anyway, gar is the BEST

4.5. i wonder where these visions of experimentation took place. was it on tamaran, or on earth, after she came to hunt down rachel/trigon and before she lost all her memories? is HPG a part of the scientist group that experimented on her? ... god, i hope not. i mean, i think he is, but it would be cool to have some positive therapist representation in media.

5. you’d think the van transporting a dangerous supervillain that only batman could catch would be more secure but... i’m also not entirely surprised.

5.15. i love dick gives ZERO shits about hiding himself or even ensuring scarecrow is adequately contained. just turns away after kidnapping him in BROAD DAYLIGHT and says ‘let’s go’. I LOVE THIS DUMBASS

6. lmao gar is having a really really shitty day SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK or just a goddamn story arc of his own

6.5. i’m really confused about the timeline here. so... sometime ago, kory came down to earth to hunt down trigon, yeah? at some further point down the line she and her sister were kidnapped and experimented on. THEN she somehow escapes but... loses her memory? a few months pass and then we see blackfire alive and well and free; she kills faddei, can impersonate other people, and is clearly seeking out kory. but now she’s still in the experiment facility...? what’s going on?

i’m not entirely surprised about the facility being mostly deserted. either the biggest investors in this project gave up on it and it was left to the most fanatic to carry on, or they were deliberately trying to lure kory and get her to free blackfire--expand the environs of the experiment, so to speak.

7. hopefully barbara is going to get something to do other than listen to various men give her Attitude

8. how do you terrorise a terrorist? well:

i love when dick is a scary-competent motherfucker.

8.25. ooooh, the attack on crane at arkham a ploy to get crane to blackgate? nice one dick, i didn’t even think of that. but why though? to protect crane from the titans? to intercept the van to blackgate and “rescue” him? seems likely--red hood was there, except dick got to crane quicker.

9. still reeeallly unclear about the komand’r situation. was komand’r captured after s2? is this all A TRAP?? if so, why are you stepping into the only thing that can contain you, kory????

9.25. so... definite parallels between dick/jason and kory/kom here. i’m just. i’m still. really confused. i’ll shut up now.

10. this may be my favourite dick look yet:

woodsman!dick in a beanie.

10.5. i unironically love how titans has made this bizarrely-devoted-to-his-moniker, toxin-spewing supervillain into a tamer version of hannibal, psychoanalysing his victims into submission. it’s of a piece with how inward looking titans is, the way all of its villains are obsessed with how our protagonists’ minds work, to the point where they would actually spend time inside of them.

there are no big plots to end the world. no apocalypses or endgames here. these villains collect the titans’ insecurities like infinity stones. the way the titans defeat them is by achieving character growth--literally winning by the power of love. literally “the real superpower is the friends we made along the way”!

10.7. anyway, i’m betting dick is used to this bullshit from crane and is humouring him in the service of getting more information. the story about the wolf? an implicit threat, not to mention dick getting to control what crane knows about him and what methods he would use to manipulate him.

am i giving dick too much credit here? i don’t think so. he’s really impressed me so far this season.

10.75. like. there’s a real unreliable narrator vibe coming off with every person that talks about bruce (much like how the various members of the titans talked about jason’s motivations) and to buy into crane’s talk about bruce being a psychopath is to fall for the same manipulation that jason fell for. dick is the only person who hasn’t really psychoanalysed bruce this season, and i think some part of his detective brain is piecing things together into a bigger picture.

11. i’m glad kory rescued kom but did she have to kill the scientist?

(i mean, yeah, probably - the less people know that kom escaped the less likely they’re going to have the fucking govt on their doorstep, but still.)

11.5. dick’s gonna come back to wayne manor, stare straight at komand’r and go, well which room would you like? because the team might as well adopt ANOTHER person, yeah?

12. oh MAN that red hood/nightwing fight was AMAZING! and he did the thing! the boomerang escrima thing! i’m so delighted!

12.5. the anger and disbelief in dick’s voice when he says you told crane EVERYTHING?! tells me that he knew exactly what he was telling crane himself.

12.75. “everything you are is because of him” - oh that reminds me of halluci!bruce from last season. i hope we see halluci!bruce again--he is so vicious but so entertaining... so much more effective at tearing dick down than crane or jason combined. goes to show that dick’s biggest enemy is own fucking head.

12.8. oh no! dick’s shot! crane is in the wind with red hood! blackfire is now with the titans! i love it!

honestly this season’s pacing is such a big step up from the last couple. gold star, show.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #dick grayson #koriand'r #garfield logan #komand'r #conner kent #dawn granger #jason todd #jonathan crane #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle #manic pixie pop tart #a tragic jalebi

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ogravensimp · 3 years

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There’s a comic where John Constantine spends Christmas with the Kent family: Clark, Lois, Jon, the whole shebang.

Can Raven join the fun? 🎁

of course she can!

“So,” the soft voice of the little girl in a colourful red and green jumper immediately caught everyone's attention as since she had arrived with her apparent father, John Constatine, she had not said a word, “what exactly is Christmas?”

The warm living room seemed to almost freeze over in silence; the only sound being a plastic ornament falling onto the ground. Jon, instead of going to pick up the trinket he dropped, just gave a confused look to his new friend that has been helping him put up decorations for the last half hour.

Lois was equally as perplexed, the little girl had no issue being placed in the festive jumper and given Christmas-related tasks to do but, in fact, had no idea what was going on all this while. She knew this level of docile obedience was not normal for a child her age and gave glaring look at the blond man who was collapsed uselessly on the armchair.

John simply raised his arms in defence, "Hey, don't look at me. I don't believe in this shi-stuff either and I gave her the rundown ." He corrected his language quickly before he is subjected to the wrath of Lois Lane-Kent.

Sighing, she turned to the little girl, "Raven, what do you mean by 'what is Christmas'?"

"I mean what is it. Is it a ritual? Is it some type of day of worship? John says it's just an excuse to drink during dinner and get free stuff but that doesn't seem accurate."

Another pointed look at Constantine.

"It's about getting lots of presents because you were good!", Jon added and got his own pointed look.

Raven felt the natural instinct to defend her foster-father and new friend, so she quickly tried to restate her statement, "I just meant that everyone gives conflicting explanations of the purpose of the celebration. My books say it's a commemoration of the birth of Jesus Christ but all these cartoons talk about is this figure called Santa! Is he some type of other God? What about Jesus? And what is Hanukah!? Wh-"

"Wow."

The sound her age mate, Jon made was what brought her back to earth and stopped her ranting.

Only then did she realize she had begun to raise the living room furniture and had John and Lois floating a few inches off the ground. Releasing a harsh but calming breath, the sound of the couch's and sofas thumping down onto the floor could be heard while Raven shamefully looked down at her feet.

"Sorry...I just didn't know why we're doing this? ", She took a pause and pulled at her woolly turtle neck, "... or why I'm wearing green...and red?"

In the back of her mind, Raven wanted Lois to shout at her for asking so many questions. John said asking questions about the unknown was normal but she couldn't help but think about Azar's thoughts on the subject. Her old mentor always said that "curiosity is the sin of longing for more, and means that one is not satisfied with their current being."

She was willing to take whatever punishment Lois Lane felt just to give but she just didn't want these new people to dislike her due to her disobedience and lack of control.

'Now they know you are freak, a freakish monster,' She didn't know who in her mind said that but they were right. She felt someone approach her and steadied her trembles as she awaited discipline, but instead, she was met with a delicate hand on her cheek.

When she looked up, the softest pair of eyes she's ever been the focus of was what she saw. Just something about Lois face made her feel safe in every way, "Oh honey, don't ever be ashamed to ask questions. Trust me, as a reporter, I ask enough questions to talk your ears off so I have no right to judge."

Raven only nodded, feeling flush at the positive attention of someone she barely knew.

"Now for your question," at this Lois retracted her hand to rub her chin with a quizzical hum on her lips, "You are right, there are many ways to celebrate Christmas so to pinpoint what is about, I suppose it'll differ for each family. Though, I can tell you why this family celebrates it."

Despite her prior criticism of herself, Raven still managed to whisper a simple, "Why?"

"Cause we are family, that's all there is to it," With that answer, Lois placed a small peck on to the little girl's red chakra before lightly stroking her hair, "Now you and Jon should head to the kitchen, I think Clark's about done with the cookies."

And on queue, a ding sounded and Clark Kent's voice could be heard through the walls, "Alright, come get them while they're warm."

Jon jumped into the air at that. He turned to his friend and pulled onto her sleeve to signal towards the kitchen before rushing off himself.

Raven floated after him before pausing halfway.

She turned towards the direction of Constantine who had simply watched the interaction with mild curiosity, "So are me and John...family?"

John finally spoke up, "Yes, I guess we are luv'. Wouldn't let you live in my house for free if it was any other way." Lois gave him a slap at the shoulder for his poor taste of humour.

But Raven didn't seem to care about his lack of sentiments. Instead, she let a smile grace her lips before running after the young half-Kryptonian while muttering a soft, "Family."

John watched her go with his own smile.

Lois was shocked that John Constantine could even make that expression; the closest thing she has ever seen on the British man was a cocky smirk and even that was pushing it. She felt awkward, as if she was seeing a private scene not meant for her, so she decided to speak to clear the air, "She's a good kid, though, I'm concerned about how quiet she is."

"Yeah, I'm working on it," John relaxed back into the chair before digging into his pockets, "Only been doing this child-raising thing for a few months, cut me some slack."

"I'm not nagging you, just curious," Lois followed his movements as he pulled out those rancid cigarettes of his. She quickly snatched it away before continuing, "Be good with her. I can see some real potential in her."

John only huffed. Looking longingly at the cigarette only inches away, he gave a snarky, "Yeah, yeah."

Lois supposed that will do, "Now, let's see if there are any treats left or was it all snarked down by those two."

"Please, when it comes to Rae and her desserts, she'll out-eat grown men. A real demon that one."

I always thought that Raven has a lot of religious trauma from Azarath that is rarely explored but in this AU imma hint at it a lot more. No one is better to deal with religious trauma than a man that routinely stares devil’s in the eyes.

#dad!constantine #magic family au #raven dc #john constantine #lois lane #jon kael #clark kent #the kents #raven teen titans #dc comics

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bestnoncannonship · 3 years

Text

I'm drowning in the gender sandbox guys.

I am agender. At least....I think I am. It's the closest to what I'm feeling. In that I really do not have an attachment to any gender and cannot conceive how people identify with a gender. Like....they just FEEL a gender? All the time? No matter what they look like and what they're wearing they FEEL a gender?? Whaaaa??? Sounds hella fake but okay.

And now I'm gonna talk about that and my experience for a while, in a series of ways that's probably gonna get the gender and sexuality neo-puritans to come yell at me for not being ritually pure enough in the way I talk but.....I'm talking from my own brain, baby. This is the toolkit I'm packing right now and the world I live in and I just need to spit it out. Maybe see if it resonates with people who know more than me. I don't know. Help.

I didn't question being a woman for the longest time. I grew up in a rural area culturally dominated by "Christians" (Not Catholics. I was Catholic. That comes with a whole different set of religious traumas pre-installed. I mean the ScAaRy protestent and nondenom Christians.) You didn't question anything. Not an adults orders. Not authority. Certainly not straightness. Gender was biological. I'd never heard of a trans person. There were rumors of Gays™. For most of my life it was just "Gender is the meat suit you got stuck with, right? I got stuck with this meat suit so it's my gender, I guess." And when I finally left the middle-o-nowhere for Le Citè and I met some (mostly bianary) trans people I was like "OH! OKAY!! Having strong feelings about being in the wrong meat suit can make a gender!" And the non bianaries that I met were still playing on that bianary scale. The "bit of boths" and the "different genders for different days" varieties. They has strange attachments to genders. And the whole retoric of "Questioning your gender and feeling things about you gender is the indicator that you might be trans!!" Just furthered my feeling that I must just be female by default cause like.....I didn't question anything. I didn't think about gender. I had a COMPLETE lack of feelings about gender whatsoever and that was normal, right?? Just meat suit gender. I certainly didn't have a strong feeling about wanting to be the opposite: *gag* a man?? A straight white man? Nope! I have no desire to be a bianary man and frankly I find 99 percent of men and male culture traumatic. So I must just be meat-suit gender.

And yes, I wanted to scrape my breasts and hips and thighs off with a cheese grater. But I wrote that off as a symptom of having started putting a finger down my throat after meals when I was 6 and having a family that forced hour upon hour exercise with their thighs and tummies wrapped in saran wrap and sang "I don't love her! She's too fat for me!" to a literal toddler and put that same toddler in oversized clothes to hide the healthy baby squish that toddlers HAVE. OF COURSE I wanted to die when my breasts grew in and my hips and thighs filled out. They were evil fat deposits. And they meant nothing but unwanted attention from yucky men. (Lesbianism to be discovered some 15 years later. My comphets we're almost as bad as my compgenders.) It had nothing to do with gender. Gender is just the meat suit ....and I already hated the meat suit by the time I had breast buds, they just enhanced a disgust that I thought was normal by then. Everyone kind of hates their meat suit, right?? Yes I wanted to look like men sometimes.....but they were skinny heroin chic men. I also wanted to look like kate moss. I wanted to look like a sideways door but my family is Italian and we have hips and thighs. It's just the meat suit I was assigned. Just have to learn to deal with it and dress it in the way that it looks most socially acceptable and get on with life. And my meat suit had a very gendered look, even in the deepest throws of my illness. "All woman." "The curves of a real woman." So that was just the hand I was dealt. Like having a hard to match foundation undertone. You don't gotta like it, it's just reality. Yes, I wanted to wear nothing but waistcoats and gay vampire clothes but they weren't cut for my body type so *shrug*.

Did I start to have way too much fun cosplaying and embodying male characters? Yes. But that was just identifying with characters. I'd always identified with characters. Did I still distinctly identify with the character's gender, even when I femmed the costume to avoid the hellish pain of binding? Yes. Did it make me feel weird when people referred to my Thor as a woman, even though it was technically a femme? Yes. But that was just feminism. Heroes don't need to be called girl heroes. No gender issues here!! Besides it's not weird in fandom circles to stongly identify with people across gender lines. The fact that I found the gendernope option if there was one available in the fandom and *attached* was surely just coincidental. Right??

Did I absolutely loose my mcfreaking mind when the gyno started talking about having to take my uterus away because the amount of blood it was loosing was doing irreparable harm to my body? Yes. My gender is my meat suit. When you take it away....what am I???? A *gag* man??? Nothing at all?? Am I still even human?? If I am not *gag* male and you take away the female part of the meat suit am I an aphid? A plant? A chair? But I was comforted by a chorus of voices saying "No!! You're a WOMAN. Infertility doesn't make you not a woman! You still have a woman's body!! Because you're a woman!!! Just look at you in your skirts and with your long hair!! You're a woman!!!" So.....still a woman, I guess. Because I still LOOKED like one. Gender = the PRESENTATION of the meat suit. That made sense. The structure of my meat suit made me limited to woman-presentation. So I was woman.

Then, it was the stupidest thing, I was talking to the other half of my life on the 4/5 train on the way to a friend's house about HER issues with gender presentation and the amount of attention to detail it takes to be socially acceptable as female and she said "You just know you're a girl. Like if they just picked you up and put you in a robot body you'd be a girl?" And I was like "......no? I'd be a robot?????" "But you'd still feel like a girl???" "No.....I'd feel like a ROBOT." "BUT you'd still like hear she/her and identify with those???" "No. I'd probably identify more with It/it's because that's what I'd be. A ROBOT!" And she's like "But what if your brain got transplanted into a boy body???" "Then I'd be a boy." "But what would you feel like?" "A BOY?" "Okay but what if you had a very neutral body with like no genitals? What would you feel like then??" "I mean....then it would depend on how I'm dressed. I'd feel like what I was dressed like." And we went around like this till she surmised that my entire relationship to gender was basically "You are what you look like." Which is apparently NOT how people relate to their own gender. They "feel" it somehow?? (I genuinely thought "FEELING" like a gender was what made trans people.) I feel nothing. I identify with a lot of things and ZERO of them are a gender. I thought that was normal. I thought that was the default. Apparently it's not. And then if you ask me what I want to be.....I can't answer. I really don't want to be a gender. I guess I want to be able to put different genders on at my will, like outfits, for societal convenience. But I don't "identify" with any of them. Hell, I have sweaters I identify with more than any particular gender. But there aren't really systems in place for describing and portraying that.

Gender.exe was not installed.

I did a lot of research. Agender felt closest. I actually felt closest to a Good Omens meme about Aziraphale describing his gender as "No, thank you!" That's what I feel like. But all the agender folks were vibing that moment. So I joined 'em. I am aware that puts me under the trans umbrella, but I don't really identify with that word. I don't feel like there's any transition. Any changing. Can't change what was never there. Also I feel like it's for people who....CAN present as their gender. I would be seen as an invader in those spaces. Its not bad enough to justify being in those spaces. I can live with being gendered. I just don't have one.

In the society we live in one cannot present as "not a gender". Someone with MY body definitely cannot present as "not a gender". The clothes that they make in size "giant human with planet tits" are agressively gendered. And even in a binder.....they're still REALLY there. (Yes, a reduction is desirable but I don't have reduction money.....and you can't reduce the fact that I'm the bowl shaped robust extreme female hipbone they use in Forensic Anthropology textbooks.) It is what it is. My body will always be perceived the way it's perceived. And frankly a lot of what we perceive as genderless is just "skinny body in masc style with short hair and makeup". That's not really want I want. I don't want to cut off my hair. It's my one really good feature and I've worked hard to grow out these Valkyrie worthy lengths. Mens clothes are so limiting. And there are no gender: no thank you clothes. (One well meaning friend kept trying to send me "genderless" clothes......but it was all rail thin afabs in mens clothes with short hair and heavy makeup. That's not looking genderless. That's just being skinny.) Gender no thank you presentation is very tied to short hair and thin bodies. So I've accepted that I don't get to play in the gender sandbox outside of the privacy of my own mind. It's a societal flaw. But whatever.

But pronouns are starting to really bother me. Everyone is so into them and identifying with them. And like.....I don't get it. I don't get the joy. I don't think I've found the one. Like.....I'm used to she. I will always be read as she. I will always be Miss and Ma'am in stores and restraunts. So I just kind of roll with it. I don't hate it. I don't like it. It's just a thing that I have to have to exist in society. Like a social security number. I actually think I identify with my social security number more. There's no point in making myself uncomfortable with something that's just going to be a part of my life. And I don't want to be the kind of person who expects people to address me by a pronoun they can't see and aren't used to. It's too much to ask of the average citizen of a gendered society to go through that much gender theory for just me. So "she" is an inevitable part of my life. And He....well ......I don't hate it. I dont like it. It's just there. I certainly don't get called it. And I'm not capable of presenting it well enough for this to be relevant. Now they......fuck I HATE they. I hate that it's the acceptable pronoun for anyone not bianary male or female. It just rubs me the wrong way. When people refer to me as they, I feel like they're referring to me and the host of mental illnesses I carry around and you don't have permission to address those troops thank you very much. They causes a genuine squick. But it's kinda the only widely acceptable option. I kinda like "it". I VIBE with it. It feels good. Unfortunately the people in my life have a certain reluctance about calling me it as they believe that happy vibe around a traditionally dehumanizing pronoun may be a trauma symptom. They might be right so I'm tabling "it" till I find a good therapist. Also...I cannot ask strangers to call me it. I don't have the confidence it takes to explain why and I frankly don't want to be faced with the criticism and questions I would face because I am unable to make my body be perceived as Nonbinary. I don't have the confidence or conviction to face that every day forever. Ditto neopronouns. I also haven't found one that I vibe with at all yet.

And queer labels get harder when you pull away from gender entirely. Like ... I am a Lesbian. I am solely attracted to women. But now I'm getting a lot of "You can't be a lesbian if you don't have a gender!!!" And like ...can I??? I like being a lesbian. It feels right. It conveys what I want it to convey. I like the exclusion of men entirely, after being taught to structure my life around men. I have a kinship with womanhood. It's where I was raised. It's how people see me. I just don't identify with it. It's not how I see myself. I guess that can kind of exclude me from the label? All of our terms are defined by being attracted to "your own gender" or "the opposite gender" or "both your own gender and other genders" and like ... I don't have a gender. And the opposite of nothing is....?? Fuck if I know? So what term am I allowed to use? I love queer for exactly this reason. But it just doesn't have the same clarity that lesbian does.

So I'm just kind of in a hole rn. Grappling with the fact that I really don't have a gender in a gendered world, and dealing with the fact that so much of our understanding and acceptance of gender is about presentation, a door closed to my body. I don't have the confidence or the spoons or the knowledge or the experience to fight this fight. The path of least resistance is sticking my head back into the sand and going with straightforward womanhood....but now it feels like I'm lying. I feel like an intruder in woman's spaces. And I can't go in men's spaces, they see me as....well...a woman. Lesser.

Someone out there who's better at the genders please help.

#agender #gender crisis #gender identity #gender problems #pronouns #nonbinary #enby #nb #non bianry #agender lesbian #nonbinary lesbian

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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years

Text

Anonymous asked: I really enjoyed your book review of Sebastian Junger’s Homecoming. Perhaps enjoyment isn’t the right word because it brought home some hard truths. Your book review really helped me understand my older brother better when I think back on how he came home from the war in Afghanistan after serving with the Paras and had medals pinned up the yin yang. It was hard on everyone in the family, especially for him and his wife and young kids. He has found it hard going. Thanks for sharing your own thoughts as a combat veteran from that war. Even if you’re a toff you don’t come across as a typical Oxbridge poncey Rupert! As you’re a classicist and historian how did ancient soldiers deal with PTSD? Did the Greeks and Roman soldiers even suffer from it like our fighting boys and girls do? Is PTSD just a modern thing?

See previous post for Part 1. Part 2 of my answer here below....

But does it mean no Greek or Roman soldier ever suffered trauma or mental illness? Is there nothing we can’t learn from them? Of course not. Both the Greeks and Romans can teach us a lot about suffering.

Both cultures recognised the importance of integrating soldiers back into society that were they had tried to defend on the battlefield. And I think we can learn a lot from them in the regard.

If we are able to accept that PTSD is not a product of mechanised warfare and very likely did occur in ancient societies, then the question should be asked: how did ancient cultures deal with individuals who experienced trauma and suffering? We know that exposure to violence occurred. And we know, too, that homecoming was a common experience, in that some type of military service was a regular feature of the cursus honorum for those in the senatorial class and was an avenue for the lower classes seeking advancement. Valour in combat was respected, and it was not unusual, when in pursuit of higher office or defending oneself at trial, to display one’s scars from battle as a physical witness of character.

Inscriptions inform us that many veterans pursued successful careers upon their return, becoming leading men in their cities. We know that they feared war and respected it, we know that they used ritual to distinguish war from peace, but we do not know how these men fared emotionally and psychologically after long exposure to violence.

While many ancient cultures were able to recognise the significant changes in soldiers following a battle, the precise reasons as to what created these changes were elusive. A common explanation was that the occurrence of (what I describe as) PTSD was caused by the actions of malevolent ghosts or spirits of those who were killed in battle and now sought vengeance on their killer. While it is unlikely that a vengeful spirit explanation is correct, it does contain the insight that the sickness originated from an inward or unseeable wounding, and these invisible wounds could be just as deadly as any outward wound.

Many ancient cultures sought to deal with and create specific rituals to heal the unseeable and drive off the ghosts who caused them. The central purpose of these often culturally unique rituals was to welcome the returning soldier back into society and allow for the release of trauma. The Romans directed the Vestal Virgins to bathe returning soldiers, purging them of the corruption of war.

While the plethora of writings describing PTSD-like signs in ancient veterans indicate that these rituals did not always work, given the sheer numbers of ancient soldiers who went into battle and through these rituals, it would seem likely that for many something about them did work. However, it might not have been the welcome back into society alone that worked.

What might have been even more important, and what is often overlooked, was that the reintegration process would begin in the aftermath of the battle when the survivors began to walk home. Given that ancient soldiers sometimes fought far from their homeland, when the war was over they had to the walk home. The speed of this return was dictated by the pace of the slowest pack animals and the slow pace, while frustrating, may well have given the soldiers much needed time to reflect upon what they had experienced, grieve for comrades lost and perhaps find solace in a shared group experience. The long march back culminated in a ritual cleansing and a return to home, as mentioned above.

One of the reasons this slow decompression might have aided the efficacy of the return rituals can be seen in its complete opposite in contemporary conflict, where the advent of improved transport has made it possible to move troops quickly and efficiently. Perhaps too quickly and too efficiently. While troops might be happy to be back at home far more quickly, there might be a lost opportunity for soldiers to properly process what they have seen and experienced within a like-minded group.

I believe that we must be cautious when we map the past too neatly upon our own experiences or, conversely, our own experiences too neatly upon the past. While there are similarities and continuities, the relationship between ancient and modern must be carefully parsed. All lovers of the classical past are familiar with how the study of the Greeks and Romans awakens profound and contradictory feelings of identification and alienation. With respect to combat trauma, the shock felt by a modern soldier upon seeing a corpse for the first time would have been incomprehensible to both the Greeks and the Romans, who were surrounded by death.

Likewise, modern technology – with its distant, impersonal, and terrifyingly effective weapons, its instantaneous communication between home front and front line, and the speed of return from combat – requires an adaptability and an ability to get one’s head around big spaces and multiple actors that would never have been demanded from a Roman legionary.

My own view is that our soldiers actually face more complicated psychological factors than did the Romans – including a populace that largely avoids the realities of war while still wishing to enjoy the profits of it.

In addition, as our understanding of what causes PTSD grows we may find a paradox: distance weapons, developed to provide overwhelming military superiority and to shield troops from the fear and horror of close combat, may in fact cause more trauma, whether owing to the shockwaves they send through the brain or to the sense of helplessness they engender.

Moreover psychologists believe that modern PTSD cases are the result of the loss of ‘ontological security’ – ‘an individual’s inability to reconcile their traumatic memories with their moral codes, self-concepts, beliefs about human nature and notions of cosmic justice through which they seek to impose what anthropologists call a sense of order and meaning on the world. The psychological conflict arising from trauma ensures that the trauma lives on as ‘a source of socially and psychologically maladaptive behaviour’. But - and here’s the crux of it - the definition of what is a traumatic memory is as variable as the sufferer is individual, and this is culturally dependent even in the most homogenous societies.

Where we can learn from the Greeks and Romans is how they dealt with homecoming and using religious spirituality to balm emotional wounds.

For the Greek warrior, Classical Greek culture, like that of Rome after them, practiced polytheism, the expression of which included confirmatory and transformatory rituals. Ritual purification with water occurred in Greek funeral rites, with indication that pollution associated itself suggest that the cleansing had anything to do with establishing proper relationship to the gods, but may have had a purely “practical” force.

A more important spiritual concept to the Greek soldier than that of pollution may have been that of the necessary separation between the warrior’s life and the domestic life. In ancient and classical Greece, city walls held a religious significance as the separation between the sacred and the profane, for inside the walls are the sanctuary and security of domestic peace, while outside the walls warfare and the domestic life from which the warriors of his tale are separated, evoking pathos in the listener; the Iliad’s action describes the soldierly activities and battles of the Greeks and Trojans, while Homer’s metaphors describe the everyday activities which the Greeks have left behind and with living relatives as well as physical location.

Some Classicists believe there is little evidence to suggest that the cleansing had anything to do with establishing proper relationship to the gods, however. Furthermore, a Greek male’s citizenship was based on his membership in his city’s fighting force, his τιμή, honour, was directly related to his performance in the line of duty, and “a purely predatory attitude toward the lives and possessions of one’s enemies was an essential part of archaic and classical Greek warfare. This attitude toward battle makes it unlikely that Greek soldiers would have felt any sense of pollution either from warfare or the soldier’s association with, or proximity to, death or blood; cleansing rites were likely observed for fallen comrades and camps, but may have had a purely “practical” force.

In the Iliad, Homer makes extensive use of metaphor to juxtapose the world of warfare and the domestic life from which the warriors of his tale are separated, evoking pathos in the listener; the Iliad’s action describes the soldierly activities and battles of the Greeks and Trojans, while Homer’s metaphors describe the everyday activities which the Greeks have left behind and been separated from for ten years, such as women sewing and farmers reaping.

The soldier may accumulate honour in battle, but he is acutely aware of what he is sacrificing, even if only temporarily, to gain that honour. Homer’s Odyssey and Aeschylus’ Agamemnon are explorations of difficulties the Greek warrior faced as he attempted to return to domestic life after long absence in war. The concept of such separation may have had a sacred significance akin to the idea of the separation of domestic and non-domestic spaces established by walls; it was at least culturally significant to the Greeks of Homer’s and Aeschylus’ times.

Though Greek soldiers may not have had purification rituals to cleanse themselves after battle, Shay proposes that warriors of certain Greek societies, at least, had a form of transformatory, religiously-significant ritual which served to reintegrate them into domestic society after long separation in mandatory military service and, for most, exposure to combat. He writes, “The performances of Athenian tragic theatre - which was a theatre of combat veterans, by combat veterans, and for combat veterans - offered cultural therapy, including purification...The ancient Athenians had a distinctive therapy of purification, healing, and reintegration of returning soldiers that was undertaken as a whole political community. Sacred theatre was one of its primary means of reintegrating the returning veteran into the social sphere as “citizen.”

Shay proposes that soldiers hearing or reciting the Iliad would also have experienced a similar sacred catharsis; thus, this might have been one reason for the works’ significance in Greek culture.

What of the warrior of Imperial Rome? What of homecoming and religion? Religion was likewise both a public and private affair during Imperial Rome.

Political leaders and military officials were also religious leaders, and the people considered the emperor god-like, if not a god, within one of Rome’s many public cults. Ritual practices were integral to both state and private religion. The Romans accepted that the safety and prosperity of their communities depended upon the gods, whose favour was won and held by correct performance of the full range of cult practices inherited from the past. Bargaining rituals, in which a specific ritual action was performed or promised in return for fulfillment of prayer, as well as confirmatory and transformatory rituals, were common throughout the Roman Empire’s many public and private religious cults.

Within this cultural context, Rome allowed her soldiers to practice in accordance with individual religious beliefs, and the army took part in public religious activities. Among many other state religious rituals, Roman armies underwent ritual purification (known as lustratio exercitus, translating literally as ‘the purification of the army’), sometimes before battle, sometimes after (or sometimes both). This ritual may also have been performed on the Campus Martius (the sacred field dedicated to the Roman god of war, Mars) at the start and end of the military campaign season.

The Roman practice of leading a victorious army under a triumphal arch may also have been a ritual purification; soldiers decorated themselves and their standards for both rituals with laurel, a plant commonly used for purification in other aspects of Roman culture.

Scholars disagree as to the purpose of the purification ritual and the sacred nature of an army’s triumph. Pritchett suggests that Roman generals conducted the lustratio exercitus in order “to remove superstitious dread” from the soldiers before battle. Some scholars argue that the purification ritual was not merely to remove dread before battle, but may have included the use of laurel to “cleanse the army of its bloodshed.” In common with the Greeks, Roman soldiers were unlikely to attach any moral disapprobation to the act of killing itself, or find war immoral. But the performance of the ritual after battle and at the close of the warrior’s season indicate the Romans may have felt that some incidental, religious pollution attached itself to the army or the soldier from nearness to death or blood.

As some point out, Virgil in his imperial epic poem, The Aeneid, supports the idea that the imperial Romans saw some impurity associated with the individual’s presence in combat - Aeneas, having just taken part in battle, states that he must purify himself before approaching his household gods. Others sees the act of battle as a sacred undertaking; therefore, at the end of the campaign season, the soldiers ritually desacralised themselves and also cleansing themselves for their acts of violence in battle.

This idea further suggests a sacred distinction between the warrior and the non-warrior, as the warrior undertook a particular religious duty by fighting which the non-warrior did not. The ceremony performed at a Roman soldier’s retirement, when the emperor, or his proxy, would perform a ritual releasing the soldier from the religious oath he took upon joining the army, transitioning him back into private life, seems to suggest this as well.

These ritual purifications may also have marked the transition for the soldier from chaos back to order. Roman society placed high value on order and Rome’s citizens saw the empire as a civilizing force against the barbaric chaos of other peoples; for them, Roman conquest brought law public order, and structure to uncivilized barbarians as much as it did land and treasure to Rome.

The division between what was civilised (Rome) and was chaotic (barbarians, and thus anyone Rome was at war with) was sacred and sharp, and it was the Roman army which crossed that line to carry order to the peoples of the world. The presence of the ritual after battle and after the campaign season may mark a restorative or transitional moment in which the soldier’s association with chaos in battle against an uncivilized enemy ends and he returns to the orderly world of Roman civilisation.

While no absolute solution can be drawn from the experiences of ancient soldiers, there may be sufficient clues to warrant studying what benefits might be gained from delaying the return of groups of individuals from conflicts in a structured manner, thereby lessening the propensity for PTSD to occur. Particularly, if it were possible to enact rituals of our own - rituals which recognise and free returning soldiers from their traumas and assuage any sense of guilt and culpability - and reinforce that society values them for what they did, we may be better able to deal with PTSD.

Indeed whatever the causes or effects of PTSD suffered by returning service personnel, homecoming is crucial to integrating that person back into his/her family, community, and society. Earlier I talked about research done on British, European and American returning soldiers and the wide discrepancies between the European and the American experience of dealing with PTSD and reintegration.

I think one reason why British soldiers fared better than our American brethren is we had more effective mental health tools and mechanisms in place. I’m sure your brother as he was with the Parachute regiment would have gone through the TRiMS and TLD programme as a way for returning British soldiers to process their tour experience before being allowed back into the fold. It doesn’t work for everyone but certainly catches more in the supportive net who otherwise might have profound difficulties ‘coming home’.

For those who don’t know since 2007 the British armed services have been using the Trauma Risk Management program (TRiM) and the practice of soldiers spending time in a “third location decompression” (TLD) to help the process of homecoming as well as detect early warnings of PTSD. Both have been important tools for British soldiers to process their emotions and experiences.

The good thing about TRiM is that it’s a peer support system designed to assess trauma experienced by soldiers and encourage them to seek help if needed. TLD requires its participants to spend 36 hours in a location away from combat before returning home, often on the bases in Cyprus within the British Sovereign Territory there. Both of these mitigation measures focus on unit or regimental cohesiveness, which is has been well proven to be associated with lower levels of common mental disorders and PTSD. The aim of decompression is to ensure everyone gets a proper mental health briefing and that they are able to speak informally to each other without being judged. In the end it’s an invaluable opportunity to access the social support needed and begin the reintroduction to ‘normal life’.

Of course no system is perfect - look how sprawling the British veteran charities are for instance (Royal British Legion, Poppy Scotland, Combat Stress, Connect Assist, the Ministry of Defence, SSAFA etc) with over 2000 registered veteran charities which leads to confusion about services and support. No measure that is put in place can treat every single soldier but every little bit helps more than it hinders a soldier’s return ‘home’.

In the end to wheel back to your question, the issue of whether the Romans suffered PTSD is probably unanswerable, because the problem itself exposes many of the challenges posed by the historical study of the past. I do know that the view that the Graeco-Roman world knew PTSD is fast becoming dogma because of popular culture and trendy lefty academic fads in English departments. I find that troubling speaking as both a combat veteran and as a Classicist.

In this debate of nature versus nurture it can hardly be reasonable to conclude that a legionary would have experienced trauma in the same way as a modern day combat veteran – surely his vastly different upbringing, cultural background and combat experience would have resulted in a culturally unique variant of response to that trauma? So to state that the legionary *must* have suffered PTSD seems simplistic and poorly evidenced. Saying a Greek or Roman soldier’s exposure to close combat and the fact that war is hell wherever and whenever it is fought is not enough. Some men would undoubtedly have experienced trauma induced psychological disorder but what that response was, its nature, causes, symptoms, is simply impossible to know, given the current paucity of relevant sources.

Perhaps when we understand PTSD better we’ll have an ability to interpret that thin evidence and put it into a cultural and medical frame of reference - despite wildly different causal factors and conditioning to meet the unique stressors in each of the ancient and modern soldier’s experience of warfare - that will get us close to a definitive answer. Indeed, as we learn more about concussive brain injuries and slowly unravel the various causes of PTSD, I suspect that we may find the evidence will point to a lower frequency of PTSD in the ancient world than that experienced by our troops in the present day. Until then, to be honest, it’s a game of grim conjecture.

If your brother needs more help please DM me and we can discuss ways in which we can help him find the right fit. You already know about the paras own charity for its veterans, Support Our Paras, so nothing I can add there that you don’t already know. My one recommendation would be to reach out to ex-Para and UK SFSG (special forces operator), Dave Radband. Radders is good egg and has used social media to become an outstanding mental health advocate for ex-British veterans.

Once again my apologies for the long answer in two parts but it’s an issue that’s very close to my heart when I think of my own fortunate homecoming from war and I remember those who didn’t come home...and those still fighting the war after they come home.

Thanks for your question.

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ficsforeren · 2 years

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Hey babe 🤗 I’m writing a fanfic between an OC and Eren and I wanted you to react to her because I really admire your writing and love your characters.

Hope I spelled/wrote everything ok English isn’t my 1st language 🙂 Major warning ⚠️ Tons of potentially triggering stuff below

Evan was born to two drug addicts, Mike and Sara. She was premature and had quite a lot of health issues as a baby and it didn’t help that her parents weren’t doing the best job taking care of her because of their substance abuse issues. She grew up in front of the television which is how she learned basic things such as the names of colors, numbers, etc. Both Sara and Mike would raise Evan till she was three, continuously forgetting to feed her, bathe her, and do other things a child her age required, until she was taken by social services and placed in foster care. A woman named Sandi took her in and she would remain with her until the age of ten. Sandi wasn’t a particularly good foster mom, but she wasn’t bad either. She took Evan shopping, fed her, housed her, but affection and love were not her strong suit and Evan quickly grew used to the treatment. When she started school she didn’t make many friends, becoming a particular target by bullies who would torment her because of her small size and shy demeanor. During this time Sandi went through multiple boyfriends, an awful habit of hers, and all the men she dated were quite abusive towards both Evan and Sandi. Throughout the seven years Evan was fostered it was a daily occurrence that she’d witness violence and hear arguing which caused her to develop a fear of loud noises. She’d often fall asleep under her bed hiding when she wasn’t locked in a closet or bathroom where she was sometimes kept for hours on end. At the age of ten she was assaulted and beaten so badly by one of Sandi’s exes that she almost died but thankfully lived and post recovery she ran away. Evan lived on the streets for three years following that event, stealing and fighting to survive and by the age of fourteen she mastered the art of pick pocketing and various combat strategies. It was also at this age that an older man found her, and from pity, brought her back to his home. The man was a multi billionaire with no children or remaining family and he quickly adopted her. As soon as the documents were signed he put her in a multitude of classes from Judo and Karate to piano and public speaking. Her teenage years were brutal and empty of any hints of love and compassion, but by the age of nineteen she’d learned how to shoot and use a sword, become a pro a multiple martial arts styles, was able to play several instruments, speak twelve languages, and graduated at the very top of her class with honors and various academic awards. Young, attractive, and brilliant she had everything she could possibly want, having a large amount of mental anguish, trauma, and repressed rage seemed a small price to pay until the man who’d raised her died, leaving all his money behind and his notorious drug empire for her to run.

Hope it’s okay…Also, you can totally ignore this but what type of Eren would you put with this person? Ok bye love you 😍

Hey, baby! Thank you so much for the compliment ❤️OMG i feel so honored that you shared this with me, thank you 😭😭😭

your english is fine, baby, please don't apologize! BUT WHY IS THIS SO SAD THO 😭 POOR EVAN 😭😭😭😭😭😭It's admirable how she got up on her feet even after all that happened. damn i feel like you put a lot of thoughts into this story. this is amazing, baby, you're amazing.

hmm.... maybe secret agent ren? I only know her backstory but I'm not familiar with her personality so I can't tell but secret agent ren has a pretty rough past too so I feel like they can relate to each other in a way. plus it sounds like she's a badass and she needs to have a badass partner too hehe

I LOVE YOU TOO BABY ❤️❤️❤️

#keep up the good work!#you're doing amazing sweetie ❤️#kana answers stuff

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seoafin · 3 years

Note

tbh,, i havent read the raws of the interview yet, only the translated ver from fan-translator and b4 i start, i think that this will be just me talking in circle and in no particular order AND a real mess (my brain does weird things after exams) but uhh here we go

gojou collects talented people, and by doing so he finds the people he can most probably relate to, except that he can't, not really, because something in the universe shifted when he was born. and it makes me think of how he's always known it, that he is special, and he's proven it, time and time again— he wants to take in talented ppl and he does, but there rly isn't much he can do for them. for they are talented, more talented than the world can understand,,

but they aren't gojou satoru

gojou took in megumi, bc he knew megumi was strong, and would grow up to be someone even stronger, but gojou can't facilitate or encourage his growth, bc for all they're similar, they are so fundamentally different. ALSO,, while geto was in his life, gojou rly judged everything according to his understanding of geto’s moral compass. gojou wears a human suit and geto is how he learnt to wear it well 🏃

the dragonfly analogy regarding to geto’s response to gojo, who was shown wearing a dragonfly patterned yukata in HI arc,, i’m trying to not think abt the fact that dragonfly symbolized victory in jpn....pain. i quoted from a web here for more explanation : In Japan the dragonfly is known as the "victory insect", or kachimushi, because of its hunting prowess and also because it is known to never retreat. Dragonflies are agile and fast fliers and can even hover, but never fly backwards

and bringing this up again, matricide and patricide are 2 of the 5 worst act to commit in buddhism, and it was said that if u commit one of those act u’re going to spend a real long time in the deepest pit of hell before continuing the samsaric cycle (higher chances to be born as an animal after that probs)— this might be geto’s divine retribution. held no power over his own body and could be considered that he’s the same as those “monkeys” 💀

ALSO the fact that sukuna's interest is "eating" rly drives home his hedonistic philosophy of seeking pleasure for himself. and he’s a cannibal...makes me think if he’ll just chomp on ppl with the mouth on his stomach

randomly, to date i think he hasn't really called himself a human, shaman, or a curse, and has held himself apart from all 3, and we've also the intro of the cursed wombs so i wonder if he’s trying to become, or is, a different entity altogether

so onmyoji got mentioned in the interview and what they practice is called onmyodo and abe no seimei and kano no yasunori were the notable practitioners,, and the kamo in jjk is the same as irl who served the imperial court back then

maybe i was right when i said that the relation between the govt. and jujutsu elders are similar to how the shogunate and imperial court work (ie, the former holds the actual power) but... lets see later,,

and i cant believe that i actually nailed it on the analogy of jujutsu practices by religion,,, so mahayana buddhism, shintoism, and taoism is present in jjk along with their respective jujutsu practices...but between the 3, it shld (?) be taoism > shintoism > mahayana buddhism (which could took a path to pure land buddhism)

it’s weird that the number of curses are supposedly higher in jpn comparable to other countries when taoism was brought from china....tengen sus

so the zenin family tree is sth like :

brothers: [toji's dad] ; naobito ; ougi

so toji, naoya, and maki & mai are cousins of the same generation

[toji's dad] → jinichi (probs) ; toji → megumi

naobito → other brothers, naoya

ougi → maki, mai

but yea i’d call anyone who’s within/close or below my age range as cousins and others above 30 as uncles/ aunts LMFAO,, i dont rly memorize my own family tree 😭😭 especially since most call the other by honorifics instead of names : aunt, uncles etc or attaching said honorifics at the end of a name for an older sibling figure/ older cousins [but like ppl in my country also call the other who are older with sibling honorific even if we’re strangers,,, rly similar to korea’s hyung/oppa—eonnie(unnie)/noona but some uses more genderless honorific] (1)

tw // topic of incest, mentions of abuse

if anyone got the wrong idea when reading this : i am not glorifying/ romanticising incest(uous themes),, i’m looking at this with absolutely no lenses of bias even tho im rly against it

初恋 = literally : first love, or puppy love

恋 = romantic love/ deep longing

i literally don't know how else to put this...🧍and with language barrier...using a western interpretation of the eng word "love" to explain a jpnese term is not quite that simple, unfortunately

that thread omg,, i rly do understand how exactly someone could associated kindness with love bc of my upbringing, it was when i was slightly older that i was just...oh so its not like that orz,,, so the most plausible explanation would be that

but the problem is that,, akutami never specify when exactly she had a crush on them,, and when megumi answered todo’s question she had a “♡” reaction 😶,, uhmmm there’s rly no way to look past this if its this way or be in denial

i’ve seen some of "why wouldn't mai react that way after hearing megumi say he'd like someone who's compassionate when she's surrounded by men like naoya",, well I MEAN,,, that, but also mai probs admires that megumi grew up so well out of the clan, regardless of the fact that he had the foundation (10 shadows) to do so. imo she seems happy for him the way she can't be for maki, bc maki ultimately had to leave her behind

hate to say it but yea,, the 3 clans most likely still practice inbreeding in order to preserve their power and presumably their wealth too 😀

i had an idle thought abt it at first but i filed it deep in the back of my mind asap,, bc i ont wanna jump to conclusion abt this out of all things too early. it’s probably not even in jjk, but all those elite clans in other ani/mangas that produce powerful heirs and whatnot also do the same,,, but this way of (my personal) thinking was influenced when i first got into tsukihime (type-moon),,, i read abt the nanaya family background and found out that they practice that in order to keep their bloodline “pure” (to keep it short : they have an optical power),, and i had this kind of assumption ever since so there’s that

i’m,, convinced the zenins' inbreeding made it more difficult for them to get powerful shamans bc they got 2 jujutsu technique-less children with heavenly restrictions in the same generation: toji & maki

even more convinced that maki might be a bit stronger than toji bc toji could see curses without aid while maki can't so the pay-off must be higher,,, SJJASN IDK ,,, plus naoya sort of implies his older brothers are nothing compared to him, and idk if we should take that as his arrogance or that his older brothers rly are weak/powerless. it would make sense as to why naobito had a lot of sons, ig, as head of clan

i feel so bad that if one of the factors that can caused heavenly restriction is inbreeding,, toji and maki and mai had no say in how they wanted to be born but are scorned for it,, typical asian families projecting their traumas and ideals onto their kids but get mad when they realize that those ideals are ugly...😁😁😁

since the zenin are conservative,, i wonder if they still hold onto old jpnese dining traditions. where in ancient jpn, hierarchical relationships were made readily apparent even within families. a dining table where everybody sat down and ate as equals would be unheard of. rather, each individual is given their own table that indicates their status,,, someone who is not considered “strong” according to the zenin’s views most likely have no place at the table, and probs eat when those who are “strong” finished/ serve them when they are eating

if toji was tossed into a swarm of curses,, i dont think abuse during said time is below them,,,

the zenin clan was already great, but they further amassed power and strength by, what i assume to be, marrying and adopting powerful individuals into the clan 🤔 ,,, i imagine they're like the hiiragi but without doing what they did to shinya (ons reference)

BUT after all that, i like to think that since akutami’s a big horror fan, jjk might be an outlet to explore said topics or even darker ones, so i wouldnt be that surpised abt it. given that there’s more than enough “red flags” before this was dropped : a reference to “tale of hikaru genji” when a grown woman asked for gojou’s number in HI arc (out of all things); granny who transformed into the man’s daughter, sat on his lap and man just touched her waist; mei mei and ui ui ; and...this (incestous theme is in the novel btw)

lets not start with whatever the fuck in kubo’s head in the interview otherwise i’m writing paragraphs with every curse words possible,, those big 3 mangakas are so— UGH,, a planet w out (cis) men like him sounds real good rn 😌 if one of yall out there decide to do it,, pls hmu rly cant do this shit anymore

akutami said i like my men pretty and i like women who will step on my neck and spit in my face (I REMEMBERED TATSUKI FUJIMOTO’S INTERVIEW WHEN HE WAS ASKED ABT MAKIMA AND IT WAS SO 😭😭😭😭) but ykw,, love that for both of them <3

when i said 3 : one piece, bleach, naruto. aside from the blatant depiction/ characterize of women in those 3,, idk if some ppl arent aware yet but oda is friends with two (2) convicted pedos,, man...the major disappointment and disgust when i first find out abt it

anyways this is just my 2 cents (which i think rightfully belong to the trash can) so pls just take this w a lil to no grain of salt - 🐱

YEAH THE ♡ LMFAO I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A “good answer ♡“ heart BUT NOW IM RE-EXAMINING?????

honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if the three clans practiced inbreeding. but ik people are going to be 😡😡😡😡😡 about it when the queen of fucking england is literally married to her (something) cousin. i’m not justifying it but like....love the double standards, just as always with the west 😍

DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT FUCKING PED* LIST THEY SHOULD ALL BE IN JAIL. JAILLLLL. it’s all so gross. that’s why i fucking hate when people look towards manga for positive representation because the chances of that are super slim to zero, especially since the industry is saturated with misogyny and ped******* and a lot of other gross stuff.

i think ppl forget jjk is a horror manga LOL so obviously it’s going to confront darker themes. the question is whether it’s going to be done tastefully or not......

#honestly I don't have high hopes unfortunately 😭#but who knows I might be...pleasantly surprised #idk I don't have high hopes in manga nowadays so hmmm #anyway as always I enjoy ur thoughts <3 ❤️❤️#hope ur doing well!!!#and getting all those genshin impact goodies #🐱 anon #long post

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neon-junkie · 4 years

Text

Sinners Prayer

Summary: Dutch has asked you and Micah to tag along for the evening at the Mayor's party, but the catch is that you two have to go as a pretend married couple.

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader

Word Count: 6557

Rating: SFW

Tags: Friends to lovers, Strangers to lovers, Fake relationship/marriage, Saint Denis, Shady Belle, Party, Dress up, Formalwear, Slow burn, First kiss, Flirting.

Notes: God I LOVED writing this, which is why it's sooooo long. I've had this fic idea lingering in my head for months now as I'm a sucker for the whole fake couple/marriage trope, but it feels so good to finally write this<3

Obsessed is a strong word to use, especially when it's relating to a stranger. But maybe it was the right word because you found yourself swooning over this man over and over, despite barely ever speaking to him. You were in the same camp, sure, but that didn't mean much apart from sometimes riding by his side during a mission, or sitting on the same log as him at the campfire. You'd exchanged few words and you somewhat hoped it'd stay that way, knowing exactly the kind of man he was.

Was this secret obsession something to do with past trauma? your previous encounter with a toxic man that you thought you'd gotten over? or was Micah really just meant to be yours?

But seriously... Micah. Micah Bell. Micah Bell the third, in fact, because somehow his shitty family had managed to breed more than once.

You want to feel sick every time you see him, you really do, just like everybody else in existence does, but you find yourself gazing at him from the other side of camp every single day, so drawn to various little bits of him.

There's the scar on his chin, the one that starts at his split lip, and you're curious as to how he got it, but not as curious as to if you'd be able to feel it when you press your lips against his. You try to tell yourself that his facial hair is stupid, but he always keeps it so neat and clean, and you can't help but wonder what that 'stache would feel like brushing over your thighs as he kissed along them. And his hair, his scraggy shoulder-length hair, the dirty blonde locks that you just want to run your fingers along and grip onto if you had the chance to ride him.

You're doing it again.

You give your head a little shake as you snap out of your daydream, straightening your back and taking a swig of your drink. It's late, and you're enjoying a beer before bed after finishing your shift on guard duty. Micah's sat at his usual space by the campfire in your line of view, and thankfully you haven't zoned out staring at him else, well, that'd be embarrassing.

Micah also seems zoned out, staring at the fire with his hands dangling freely down his sides, one ankle crossed over the other. He lets out a sigh and rolls his head back, staring up at the stars before looking over at you.

Oh shit.

You quickly look away, taking another sip from your drink. You can feel Micah's gaze still on you, but when you do finally peek over, he's back to staring at the fire.

You've accidentally met his gaze a few times before, a mix of you meeting his, and him meeting yours. At least it wasn't always you staring at him, he seems to have an interest in you too, though the two of you rarely ever interacted. Micah had, for some reason, kept his distance from you, despite his blatant and poor attempts of flirting with other women of the camp. Maybe you just weren't his type? But then why would he always stare at you?

Your beer is finally finished and you turn in for the night, following your nightly routine and climbing under your blankets, only to stare at the tent walls and think about Micah.

Ugh. That man, if you can even call him one.

You're a sinner, just like the rest of this crazy bunch that you run with, but it seems whatever Gods float about in the sky continue to ignore your prayers, despite them being desperate.

Please, please can they just stop this attraction to him? Please. There were so many better men out there, a handful of which you run with, but you find yourself worryingly obsessed with this foul man, yet you can't seem to stop it.

You roll onto your side, letting your eyes fall shut and as always, drift to sleep with the hopes that you won't be obsessed when morning comes.

Morning does come, and oh boy, does it hit you hard.

Dutch was quick to call you upstairs to the balcony by his room, telling you to finish your breakfast first, but hurry up as soon as possible.

"It's a party," Dutch tells you. "The mayors' party," Dutch smirks, raising his hands as if he was waiting for you to jump with joy.

"And...?" you question.

"Well. I've picked a fine bunch to tag alongside me, but I'm asking you specifically to help with a special task. Myself, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill will be mingling as singles, but we need a couple to go. We need a couple to weave their way in there with all the others and see what they can find. Maybe get invited to some fancy private getaway or... whatever it is those upper-class city folk do in their free time," Dutch explains, speaking with his hands as always.

"Dutch," you laugh. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm unfortunately single," you tell him as you shake your head.

"I know, just like the rest of camp, but I'll make suitable arrangements for you, my dear," Dutch replies.

"What about John and Abigail?" you ask, the only couple that springs to mind.

"I wouldn't dare ask them, not after that whole fiasco that happened with our dear boy Jack," Dutch says as he shakes his head. "You can say no if you want to, but I could really do with this."

You let out a sigh but then ask "what arrangements are you thinking?"

"Well..." Dutch begins. "I wanted you to be a part of this job to begin with, I knew that as a fact. You've got a good charm and I've seen you gussy up folks before. You know exactly what you're doing, and I need that strength right now," Dutch compliments, though his tone of voice and the way his eyes begin to avoid yours makes you fear for the worst.

"Trelawny's going to take you into the city to pick out a dress for you, the women have already said they'll help get you ready for the party-"

"Dutch. Who am I going with?" you cut him off, noticing the way he's avoiding the elephant in the room.

"I put a lot of thought into this, ___. I really have. I've gone through all the members of the camp-"

"Dutch," you sigh as you cut him off again. "Just tell me."

"Micah," Dutch says as his eyes meet yours. "Like I said, you can say no if you'd like. I just know the two of you would be able to make this work, and I could really do with this," he explains.

"Have you already asked him?" you question.

"I have, and he said he's happy with it if you're happy with it," Dutch tells you as he watches your expressions and body language, though you surprise him as you show no signs of discomfort.

"Alright, I'll do it," you shrug.

"Thank you, my dear," Dutch grins as he places a hand on your shoulder. "It's this evening. Trelawny will be waiting for you outside the tailors in Saint Denis, and make sure you're ready a little early. I want time to run through the plan before we set off."

The Gods were definitely mocking you at this point, sat up there on their high horses, laughing and pointing down at you as they continued to worsen your situation. Really? A party with posh folk? And you have to pretend to be a couple with Micah? You barely know him for starters. What if you two really weren't meant to get along? The last thing you wanted to do was cause a scene after Dutch had asked you so kindly to go in there and fish out information for him.

Trelawny seemed in his usual cheery mood when you met him, helping you pick out something nice. Honestly, the dress is gorgeous, and you feel beautiful wearing it. You have no problem playing dress up, sometimes secretly looking forward to it as you rarely get an occasion to wear something other than your usual attire.

The women shower you with compliments as they help do your makeup, picking out some nice matching jewelry that compliments your facial features, along with a pretty necklace that seemed to draw even more attention to your cleavage. You haven't worn a corset in a while, and the sight of your boobs bulging up against your chest was clearly meant to be a distraction to try and lore out some weaker men. Maybe Micah would end up dragging them off to the side, only to knock their lights out and loot them for "looking at my woman!"

Ugh. Your stomach hadn't stopped turning like a stormy sea the second Dutch had told you who you were going with. You hadn't seen Micah around the camp all afternoon, probably mentally preparing himself for whatever shit-show that was about to happen.

Well, you were ready.

Mary-Beth was quick to run out of the house and draw everybody's attention, attempting to give you some kind of grand reveal, as if the camp had never seen you in a dress before. They have, but this was the fanciest you'd ever worn; with your hair up in a do that took all afternoon to keep in place, and jewels that perfectly matched the shade of your makeup.

"She's ready!" Mary-Beth squealed, attracting the attention of Dutch and Arthur as they lingered over, the rest of the camp perking up their ears and eyes. "Now, you better all flatter her 'cause she seems a little shy, and we spent all afternoon helpin' get her ready, but-"

"Mary-Beth, please," you sigh as you exit the house, not wanting the grand entrance that she would want. There's still a mix of oo's and aah's throughout the camp, and Susan is quick to rush over and take your hands in hers, looking like she's about to cry.

"My dear, you look so wonderful," Susan tells you.

"Thank you, Miss Grimshaw," you reply as you give her hand a little squeeze.

"She's right, ___. Trelawny and our women have excellent taste. Thank you, all of you," Dutch tells them as he speaks to the camp, then turning back to you. "Are you ready, dear?" he asks.

"Physically, yes. Mentally, no," you joke, though you're serious.

"Well, it'll have to do," Dutch nods.

"My my," a dreaded voice calls out. Micah's approaching, stopping just beside Dutch as he speaks to you. "Ain't no way you can go the party like that, sweetheart. You're gonna knock 'em all dead with them pretty looks of yours," Micah compliments.

Your stomach begins to turn again, though you begin to question if you should curse the gods or thank them, because the sight of Micah in a tux is one you could get used to. He's dressed like the other men, a smart black tux with a white shirt and bowtie. He's clearly had a bath, as his hair looks the cleanest you've ever seen it, nearly bunched into a low ponytail with a few loose strands shaping his face. Micah always keeps his facial hair clean, but it's freshly trimmed and perfectly shaped just underneath his jaw.

You notice Arthur already glaring at him in the corner of your eye. Why Dutch didn't ask Arthur to go with you was beyond your knowledge, but something tells you he has a deeper reason behind picking the two of you to go together.

"Thank you, Mister Bell," you softly reply as your eyes meet his.

"Guess that makes you Mrs. Bell for this evening," Micah smiles. "Don't it, Dutch?" he asks as his eyes quickly turn to Dutch's.

"It does! Now, let's all get going before we're even later than we already are. I'll go over the plan on the way there," Dutch huffs as he waves his gloved hands about, hurrying everybody along to the stagecoach that was waiting.

You're about to walk off, but Micah's sudden movement catches your eye. He offers you his hand. "Gotta look the part, darlin'," he tells you.

"Oh! I just remembered!" Micah says as he suddenly moves his hand away, reaching into his pocket to fish out a pair of gold wedding rings that he no doubt had stolen recently, specifically for this event.

"May I?" Micah asks, holding out his hand again. You take it, your soft palms gently settling in rough ones. He flashes you another smile, then flicks his eyes down to focus sliding the wedding ring onto your finger. The sight of that alone is enough to make your knees go weak, but you try your hardest not to pass out, and thankfully Micah doesn't seem to notice how lovesick you're feeling.

The ring is only slightly too big, and hopefully, you'll notice it if it gets close to slipping off. He quickly slips the other one onto his own finger, and takes your hand again, his eyes finally moving away from yours as he leads you over to the stagecoach, following behind the others.

The ride there isn't too bad, and the plan seems simple enough. Steal nothing, only information. Only your 'husband' was most definitely not going to do that, even if he doesn't tell Dutch about it.

He helps you out the coach, gently tucking your hand around his arm as he walks with you into the party. Surprisingly, Micah didn't bring his guns with him, making a comment to you under his breath about how he doesn't trust anybody with them. That's understandable.

Dutch and Arthur head upstairs to do whatever it is they were going to do, speak to Jack's surrogate father or whatever, leaving you and the others to wait on the balcony.

You rest your hands on the railing, looking down at the mishmash of strangers below. Micah removes his hand from yours, resting it on the small of your back as he turns to speak to you.

"You nervous?" Micah asks.

"I'm sure I won't be after a couple of drinks," you joke, turning your gaze to meet his. You've never seen his expression so soft before, and have his eyes always been that blue? They're an icy shade, maybe a warning sign about his cold heart, but he's making yours burn up with his stupidly sweet smile and that stupid cute little ponytail that he just had to tuck his hair into.

"So now I gotta take care of my drunk wife whilst also lookin' for leads?" Micah jokes back, though there's something about him calling you his 'wife' that makes your stomach turn faster than it ever has before.

"I ain't gonna get drunk!" you laugh. "Your wife can handle herself, thank you very much," you raise your nose jokingly.

"You sure? Cause if I remember rightly, the last time you got drunk you tripped over and almost fell in the campfire," Micah chuckles, watching your expression drop. How did he remember that? That happened months ago!

"I'm a changed woman," you reply, "for tonight," you add.

"Sure you are, Mrs. Bell," Micah grins as he moves a few loose strands off your face. "Then after tonight, you can go back to fallin' into campfires."

"And would my dear husband not save me if he saw me falling into one?" you question.

"I ain't really your husband, sweetheart. Not unless you wanna keep that ring on and keep playin' dress up with me," Micah replies, trying to make it sound like a joke, but you both know that if you said yes, Micah would happily continue your fake marriage.

It's a good thing Dutch arrived when he did, cutting you off as you opened your mouth to speak, but you were thankful as you hadn't even thought of a reply.

Dutch gave you all another pep talk before shooing everybody off on their way, and you were thankful a server passed you as you reached the bottom of the stairs, taking a glass of champagne for yourself and thanking them, Micah grabbing one for himself also.

Your hand finds Micahs arm and he walks with you a while, eyeing up any obvious leads as you pass through the strangers. You come to a stop at the back of the party, pulling Micah to one side as he rests his hand around your waist. God. You could get used to Micah having his hands on you at all times.

"You see anything obvious yet?" you ask Micah before taking a sip of your champagne. At least it was decent, not having that awful cheesy flavour that cheap bottles had.

"I ain't been lookin'," Micah replies, making you snap your eyes over to his with a little scowl on your face.

"What?" you ask.

"Hard to focus on a bunch of snobby strangers when I got this pretty woman clinging onto me," Micah grins. You realize that your hand had come to rest on his forearm as his hand had found your waist, clinging onto him a little too tightly, your body practically pressed up against his. At least the two of you looked like a couple.

You go to take a step back, but Micah is quick to pull you against him more, holding you firmly in place. "I'm jokin', sweetheart," he tells you. "I've spotted a few here 'n' there."

"You better not be lyin'," you tut.

"You not trust your own husband?" Micah smirks, chuckling even whilst he has a sip of his drink. "Besides, we ain't even planned our story yet. How we gonna mingle with other couples when we don't even know how we met? Or when we got married?" Micah asks.

He's right, the two of you had no time to prepare your story, but you're far from earshot of these strangers, so now would be a good time to get your stories straight.

"Well, what have you got planned then? Seeing as you brought this up?" you question.

"Nothin'," Micah shrugs. "I figured I'd ask my lady, seeing as you women tend to fantasize about these situations." You can't deny that, because little does Micah know, you've had a few fantasies about the two of you getting together for quite some time now.

"Do I look like the type for romances, Micah?" you ask.

"Do I?" Micah replies. Good point.

"Well..." you sigh, trying to think of a few ideas. "You plan how we met, and I'll plan our wedding?"

"Sure, darlin'," Micah nods as he finishes off his drink.

"Wait here. I'll go get us a refill," you say as you take Micahs empty glass, finishing off your own, and wandering off back into the party to find your next round of booze.

Micah watches you leave, tucking his hand into his pockets to fish out a cigarette to enjoy whilst he waits and ponders.

Finding a server wasn't hard, and you thanked them as you swapped your glasses over. On your walk back you overheard another couple talking about how they met, saying she was a server on one of the ferries and he was there to gamble, only he ended up spending the night distracting her from her job.

You find your way back to Micah, who's just finished his cigarette, stomping it out on the ground with his polished black shoes. "I picked you up at a bar," Micah tells you as you hand him his drink.

"What? No," you scoff, scrunching your face up at the generic and boring backstory.

"What else you got then, sweetheart?" Micah asks before taking a sip from his drink.

"I just overheard a couple say that they met on one of those gambling ferries. She was a waitress and he spent the whole night chattin' her up."

"You wanna steal their backstory?" Micah tuts. "Dutch said we shouldn't be stealin," he says as he shakes his head jokingly.

"We'll just change it a little... I was a bartender and you spent the night chatting me up," you suggest.

"A woman bartender?" Micah questions your suggestion.

"Times are changing, Micah. It's believable," you reply, getting a little defensive.

"I didn't mean it like that," Micah says as he raises his hand. "I like it. And we met 4 years back, got married in April last year. How's that sound?" he asks.

"Good," you nod, realizing that you'd done each other's jobs rather than the ones you assigned. "You ready to mingle?" you ask him.

"Fine," Micah sighs.

Neither of you wants to do this, both forcing a fake smile and kind accents as you speak to the strangers. After an hour, you haven't found much, a few mentions of summer homes and private boats, but nothing within the area.

You're a few more glasses in, beginning to feel ever so slightly tipsy, but you needed that buzz to help you get through the smugness of these strangers.

"You want another?" you ask Micah who has barely sipped on his current one. He's only drunk a glass less than you have, but he doesn't seem affected, though his tolerance is probably higher than yours.

"I'm alright, my love. I'll wait here for you," Micah tells you as he moves his hand off your waist, letting you wander off into the crowd.

You're still not used to the pet names, but you hope they continue to roll out of Micahs mouth, seeing as you no longer had that sickly feeling in your stomach. It seems your nerves had finally calmed down, being replaced by a warm and gentle buzz instead, though that's probably the alcohol in your system.

You thank the waiter as you take another glass and turn to leave, but overhear the most hideous voice you've ever heard call out to the same man you just thanked. You attempt to walk away, but quickly stop and look over your shoulder, face scrunching up at the sight of quite possibly the rudest woman you've ever seen, if you can even call her a woman.

She drones on and on, insulting this poor stranger that was only trying to do his job. God. The way she spoke to him made you sick, and before that little voice in the back of your head can stop you, you've already approached her and cut her off, attempting to speak to her sweetly.

"Are you an entertainer?" you ask.

"What on earth are you yapping about?" She questions as she looks you up and down in disgust.

"Well, it's a very good act you've got going on here. Playing the stereotypical obnoxious upper-class woman, though I wouldn't recommend performing it when you're not on stage," you respond, acting as if you genuinely thought she was a man in drag.

"Well, I never!" She squeals. "You've got some lip on you, little girl. Do you now know who I am?"

"Oh, I do apologize, madam. What's your act called? Maybe I'll drop by to hear you squeal on stage next time I pass the theatre."

You can't hold back the grin creeping across your face as the stranger's face turns red, her huffing and puffing attracting a handful of eyes nearby. Thankfully, the poor served had managed to sneak off, so at least she wouldn't take it out on him any more than she already had.

She goes to open her mouth again but is quickly cut off when Micah appears by your side.

"Oh, I do apologize for my wife's behaviour," Micah says with a wave of his hand. "Sweetheart!" he says as he turns to you, putting his arm around your waist and beginning to walk you away. "What have I told you about feeding the animals?" he says in clear earshot of the woman.

The both of you don't get to see the woman explode as you rush off, but your grins are as wicked as each others as you lead Micah to the back of the party, giggling devilishly.

You can still hear the woman protesting as she's asked to leave, and is eventually dragged out, which was more than satisfying to watch. The party returns to how it formerly was, the strangers barely looking your way as it seems you'd done everybody a favour.

Your eyes meet Micahs, his arm still wrapped around your waist as your hand rests on his shoulder, your body pressed against his. Both of your grins remain there as the two of you look at each other, suddenly realizing just how pressed up you were against your 'husbands' body.

"I ain't seen that fire in you before, sweetheart," Micah tells you.

"There's a lot of me you ain't seen, Micah," you reply.

"Ooooh," Micah sighs as he chuckles. His head dips down slightly, speaking more directly into your ear but far enough that he can still see your reaction. "Well if you'd be so kind as to show me," he flirts.

Your knees feel like giving up on you, and you're thankful that Micah's grip is tight enough around your waist to hold you upright. You go to open your mouth and invite him to find out, but you're cut off before you can even make a sound.

"Mister and Mrs. Bell?" A familiar voice asks. Both of your smiles fade as you turn to see Dutch standing there, his brows slightly furrowed. "What the hell was that?" he whispers through gritted teeth.

"She deserved it," Micah shrugs, his voice returning to his usual tone as he softens his grip on you.

"What happened?" he whispers.

"Dutch, trust me, anybody would have done the same. It seems I did everyone here a favour," you reassure him.

"I don't care if she deserved it or not. Just stop drawing attention to yourselves, please!" Dutch hisses.

Micah raises his hand innocently, "sure, boss," he says.

"We'll keep quiet," you add on.

"Thank you, now go and mingle," Dutch attempts to force a smile, waving his hands about as he encourages you to head back into the crowd.

He doesn't walk away, so you're forced to drag Micah back into the handful of strangers and continue where you left off, doing whatever you can to find at least a little something to take back to the camp.

Thanks for ruining the moment, Dutch.

The whole time you're speaking to these strangers, all you can think about is the flirtatious glisten Micah had in his eyes when he said that line. His hand is around your waist once more, only you're well aware of the way his hand is slowly trailing down you, eventually resting on your tailbone, a little too close to your ass, though you wish he'd move his hand a little lower.

A stranger quickly thanks you for having that woman kicked out of the party, and your bitching session about her is cut short from the loud bang coming from the sky. You almost drop your drink, surprised to hear what sounds like gunshots, only to turn and see the sky glowing an array of colours.

They're fireworks. You've heard about them before but never seen them, and despite how pretty they are, you wish they were a little quieter. Sure, you're a gunslinger, but loud noises still make you jump, despite being somewhat used to them.

Micah stands almost directly behind you, moving his hand to your hip as he pressed his body against yours. You relax against him, your back pressed against his chest and shoulder. Micah places his empty glass on a tray that trails past him, using that same hand to brush a few strands of hair from your face, catching your attention as you move your gaze off the fireworks.

"You think we're doing a good job, sweetheart?" Micah asks.

"A good job of what, exactly?" you reply.

"You know exactly what I'm on about," he chuckles. His gaze was soft on you to begin with, but it softens out even more as you make him laugh.

"I think we're doing well, but we can always do better," you flirt.

"Oh?" Micah smirks, picking up on your hints. "And how are we gonna do that, my love?"

Micah boldly places a gentle kiss to your temple, your heart fluttering as his 'stache brushes against your skin, a lot softer than you thought it'd be.

"Well, for a start, you could kiss my lips rather than my temple," you reply, just as boldly as his move.

"That so?" he smiles.

"It is so, darling," you reply.

"Just you wait," Miah grins, kissing your temple again. "I ain't gonna let that happen in the middle of these folk," he explains.

"That's alright, Mister Bell. I can wait," you reply as you rest your head against the crook of his neck, angling upwards so you can continue to watch the fireworks.

Micah places another kiss to your temple before wrapping his arms around your waist, enjoying the way your hand rests on top of his, the other one still holding your glass. He continues to place gentle kisses against you every so often, holding your back firmly against his chest.

Little do you know that Micah's heart is also racing just as fast as yours, his stomach feeling just as sick and his knees feeling just as weak. All those times he'd accidentally met your gaze from across the camp were times when he'd been admiring you, watching you from afar as he tries to figure out a non-creepy and non-cheesy way to talk to you.

When it comes to one night stands and quick hook-ups, Micah will blurt a few stereotypical pickup lines out and hope for the best, but he's been lovesick the second he saw you, and his feelings continued to grow the more he saw your personality come out within the camp. He felt a little jealous at first, finding a woman who's just as good with a gun and knife as he is, but the thought of "but what if she was mine?" struck his mind, and he then decided that he just had to have you.

Micah struggles to talk to women, he's barely interacted with them, and it's even worse growing up without a female role model in his life. But the camp continued to move and hunt for money, and when Micah found out that Dutch was invited to the mayors' party, he finally saw his chance. Despite trying to recommend taking another set of hands along, without Micah making it obvious that he wanted an excuse to talk to you, Dutch quickly picked up on what was going on and decided to stir the pot even more.

Originally, Micah just thought Dutch could do with his help and maybe take one of the ladies, but Dutch is smart and picks up on little things like the two of you admiring each other from afar. Dutch grinned as he thanked Micah for his suggestion, and then said he could do with a fake couple there so they had all their options open. Micah was quick to dip his hat over his face and blurt out "sure boss, I'll leave it to you," scurrying off when he realized that he'd dug this hole a lot deeper than it was meant to go, but he swallowed his fear and went along with it.

And here the two of you are, Micah leading you over to the gazebo at the back of the mayors' house to have a "little talk about the leads we've found." There's another couple stood on one side, but the gazebo is big enough so if the two of you stand on the other side and speak under your breaths then they won't hear you.

"Well, what you think?" Micah asks as he gently removes your hand from around his arm, holding it lightly in both of his hands as he leans back against the railing, crossing one ankle over the other.

"We got a few bit here 'n' there. It ain't been easy," you shrug. It seems that despite every single person here being an obnoxious prick, they had their guards up around strangers, not letting things slip out too easily.

"But have you had fun?" Micah chuckles.

"I've had fun playing dress-up with you, Micah," you grin, noting the way Micah's fidgeting with the ring on your finger, probably slightly nervous.

"We can always do it again some time," he flirts. "Maybe go to one of them fancy poker games they host at the saloon here," Micah suggests.

"Oh, I bet you'd enjoy that," you giggle. "Gambling, liquor, and me sittin' on your lap."

"How could I not enjoy that?" Micah asks as he stands upright. "But is it a sin if I do enjoy it?" Micah asks, his tone turning slightly stern as he looks into your eyes.

"Do you want it to be?" you ask, watching as Micah moves your hand from his to rest on his shoulder, his hands finding your waist.

"I ain't really bothered, sweetheart," Micah tells you with a little shrug. "Sin or not, I'll have you on my lap, so I'll be happy," he adds.

"You know, we ain't gotta play dress up again just for you to have me sit on your lap," you flirt as your other hand comes to rest on his shoulder, slowly wrapping around his neck.

"Don't say that, darlin'. Cause we both know that you'll get tired of me constantly takin' up that offer," Micah jokes.

"You think I'm gonna get tired of you, Mister Bell?"

"You might," Micah says with a shrug. He moves one hand off your waist to gently cup your chin, making sure your eyes are on his. "Mrs. Bell," he says with a grin, noticing the way your heart flutters at the sound of it.

"I bet you I won't," you smile.

"We'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

"We will, Mister Bell."

Micah gently moves his hand from your chin, gently brushing it along your jawline as he cups it, his thumb rubbing slowly over your cheek. You melt into his touch, and the sight of that is enough to pop Micah's patience.

He finally dips his head down, gently pressing his lips against yours, though he's not surprised when you begin to kiss back, deepening the kiss. Micah's hand moves from your cheek, joining the other one around your waist as he holds onto you, pulling your body against his.

Despite how firmly his lips are pressed against yours, his moustache is a lot softer than you imagined, running against your upper lip, lightly tickling you. There's the strong taste of champagne on his lips, and a faint taste of tobacco on his tongue as he slides it against yours. It's a good thing Micah has your body pressed up against his, holding you firmly, as you can feel your knees getting weaker by the second.

Micah lets out a soft sigh as he moves one hand to gently cup the back of your head. Your fingertips brush against his low ponytail, a style that you hoped to see him wear again. Maybe he'll keep it for this upper-class poker date that you'd both just planned, and even though neither of you said it was a date, the way you were gazing at each other says otherwise.

There's a sudden cough, and that's when you realize that someones been coughing to get your attention a few times now. You were far too engulfed in locking lips with your 'husband' that you didn't notice poor Arthur standing a few feet away, trying to get both of your attention.

Micah momentarily breaks the kiss to mumble "go away, Morgan," before bringing your lips back to his, continuing where you left off.

"We're leavin', Micah," Arthur tells him in a stern voice.

Micah ignores him, and although you feel bad for Arthur being there, you're not willing to break this kiss for anything. You've waited far too long for this.

"You two, come on," Arthur sighs, and Micah finally breaks away from you.

"Fine," Micah frowns as his gaze meets Arthurs. Arthur ignores his attitude and walks off, heading through the slowly-dispersing crowd to find the others.

Micah doesn't say anything but flashes you a cheeky smile as he offers his arm once more. You take it, and he leads you through the party, meeting the others who are already climbing into the stagecoach when you arrive.

Micah does most of the talking on the way back, telling the others about the few leads the two of you had found. His hand rests on your knee the whole journey back, and Dutch seems to notice it, smiling to himself.

When you arrive back at camp, Micah offers you his hand as he helps you down from the stagecoach, and despite being back, his hand still lingers in yours whilst you say goodnight to everyone.

"You want me to walk you home, Mrs. Bell?" Micah jokes.

"Oh, you're so kind, offering to walk me ten steps," you giggle.

Micah does it anyway, stopping outside your tent.

"I err..." Micah gulps, his eyes flicking around the camp, then back to you. "I had fun tonight. Now I know we didn't get many leads, but I still enjoyed myself."

"I did too. Maybe we'll make up for our losses when we go on that upper-class poker mission," you smile. Micah's eyes widen a little.

"You were serious about that?" he asks, a tint of doubt to his voice.

"I was. But I understand if you're tired of pretending to be my husband already," you jokingly sigh, bringing a smile back to Micah's face.

"I ain't ever gonna get tired of it. But if you're up for it, then well, I guess I better start lookin' for a way to make it happen," Micah replies.

"You let me know as soon as you find it."

"Anyway, I ain't gonna keep you up. You get to bed, sweetheart," Micah says as he takes hold of your hand, placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

"You still ain't learned where my lips are, have you?" you flirt, watching Micah's eyes light up at your comment.

"I guess you better show me then, Mrs. Bell," Micah grins, his face dipping down to meet yours as you lean up to kiss him, your arms wrapping around his neck once more.

Micah doesn't keep you up for too long, softly kissing you goodnight and finally letting you turn in. You hear him walk away as you close your tent flaps, taking your time to get undressed and get ready for bed. The whole time you're changing, your stomach is still turning with butterflies, in shock at tonight's turn of events, even though you adored all of them.

In some ways, the Gods finally did answer your prayers, giving you the sinner you fawned over rather than taking your feelings away. Either outcome would have been fine, but you definitely preferred this one, especially now you had a date lined up.

Maybe those romances that Mary-Beth reads aren't so silly after all.

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