#imperfection and deviation is beautiful and good
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Fuck the zeitgeist, microwave bag-steamed veggies are fine and if that’s all you got then you’re valid as hell using them in recipes
source: fuck you I was a sous chef for six years you make due don’t be weird and exclusionary
#nobody has actually been weird about this to me#but I just KNOW#some bougie asshole out there would be#and fuck that fuck them#its time to stop acting like doing things “less than perfect” is some fucking sin#imperfection and deviation is beautiful and good
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Do you think Sansa is attracted towards women? Her inner monologue towards Margaery, Mya or Myranda suggests me so or maybe George is just writing her thoughts towards these girls through the lens of a man.
I don't know? I know that many fans read her this way, and that's perfectly valid and lovely? It's not a vibe I personally got while reading, but that doesn't mean it's not notable for others.
I don't think GRRM The Author is intentionally writing her that way, not any more than I think he meant for Ned's infamous descriptions of Young!Robert to sound as bedazzled as they do. It's less ambiguious with Jon and Satin, where the descriptive language focuses on his scent and softness Very Repeatedly, but even there I think GRRM isn't necessarily trying to say something about the specific relationship between the characters and more about the aesthetic relationship of the POV to the world around them. Specifically with Jon, you also have his descriptions of Val, which certainly make note of her beauty but - to me(!) - feel notably devoid of any actual sexual component. Unlike, say, Sansa mentally undressing Loras or Cersei's immediately loaded language describing Taena Merrywheather.
Sansa, Ned, Jon, even Jaime, certainly Brienne, and Quentyn, probably others - most characters associated with a certain romanticism or (broken) idealism also have a distinct eye for beauty and imagery in the world around them, and strong opinions on it, their perception of the world is guided by a focus on where things align in a particularly striking way, or where they fail to, and they make note of it frequently.
Take this introductory paragraph in Jaime's first POV. He gets visceral pleasure from the sheer force of the natural beauty around him, and then immediately makes note of Brienne's imperfections to the point of imagining them in even greater detail, too. That's not necessary, neither thing, but it tells us a lot about Jaime's relationship with whimsy and ideals and how harshly he judges deviation.
An east wind blew through his tangled hair, as soft and fragrant as Cersei's fingers. He could hear birds singing, and feel the river moving beneath the boat as the sweep of the oars sent them toward the pale pink dawn. After so long in darkness, the world was so sweet that Jaime Lannister felt dizzy. I am alive, and drunk on sunlight. A laugh burst from his lips, sudden as a quail flushed from cover.
"Quiet," the wench grumbled, scowling. Scowls suited her broad homely face better than a smile. Not that Jaime had ever seen her smiling. He amused himself by picturing her in one of Cersei's silken gowns in place of her studded leather jerkin. As well dress a cow in silk as this one. (ASOS, Jaime I)
Whether that kind of focus on imagery has to intersect into attraction every time is for the individual reader to decide. I lean toward less so, others freely enjoy the appeal of it.
A good time for all.
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A wedding and a falling in love - a ff idea
when Steve and Eddie are finally (legally) allowed to marry, they do it. Not only because Steve is a huge romantic and Eddie would let a horde of demon bats eat him alive if that’s what brings Steve happiness, but because out of spite. To anger all those hateful, disgusting homophobes who went out into the streets to protest against their love. It’s not only for them, but for all the queer kids who don’t have anyone to look up to; who need queer people out of their prime to see that happiness comes and lasts! So, of fucking course they get married.
they plan a beautiful summer wedding under the night sky and fairy lights with all the people they love and who love them in return - Steve’s dream.
There’s even supposed to be a funky lil medieval folk band to play ballads for them - Eddie’s dream.
of course, Robin will be Steve’s maid of honour, Erica Sinclair for Eddie (somehow that’s a friendship everyone expected and no one thought would last) and obviously, Dustin for both of them. (Not necessarily because they think he’ll do it well, but because even at the age of 44 Dustin is a noisy little prick who cannot take a no for an answer.)
so, he, Robin and Erica are going to tackle the responsibility of Steddie’s beautiful summer wedding together.
and here is the thing: we already have the Steve and Eddie love story, and with all its imperfections, it’s true love. It’s honest and hard, sometimes Steve thinks he loses all his hair because Eddie is a maniac and Eddie sometimes wishes for a gateway to hell to open underneath Steve’s feet, but it’s real and so, sooooo good!
what we don’t have, however, is another love story.
one that no one really saw coming.
Robin is busy - not only with Steve and the wedding, but with her love of her life and the little nugget growing inside of her wife, so… Erica and Dustin do most of the planning and the best man/maid of honour shit.
it’s not like these two have much more time than Robin. Erica is one of the best lawyers in the U.S., a hard working woman of the law who fights for those who need her the most.
Dustin, working as an independent astrophysicist, lives and works on the road. It’s Singapore yesterday, Melbourne today and Seoul tomorrow. The man cannot and will not sit still.
but somehow, they make it work - Erica in New York and Dustin in Tokyo, they somehow plan, and plan, and take meetings after meetings to fulfill every last dream of Eddie and Steve and their perfect little summer wedding.
the thing is… Erica and Dustin know each other for all their lives. They’ve been friends since starcourt and even after Dustin left the country to study in London for a bit, they stayed in contact. Just.. random phone calls here and there, email when it started to become a thing and then, eventually, the bi-yearly drunken Skype call when they were in remotely the same time zone.
It’s not like they meet for the first time, but somehow there online meetings to plan Steddie’s wedding get longer and the topics deviate from the cake, the clothes, the band, the seating arrangements etc…
it’s more about… law and dnd and strange objects from outer space and how moon dust is actually more like shards and the moment Erica lost one extremely important case.
and maybe there has been this strange moment filled with electricity and connection between them after Max and Lukas’ wedding in 1997, where they shared a dance while Dustins date and America’s almost-husband stood by the bar and fell in love with each other. A moment both of them never wanted to acknowledge because Erica needs no man, and Dustin cannot fall in love with his best friends little sister, no matter how fierce and stunning and amazing she is.
but now, in 2015…. They’re are adults in their fourties’ and their best friends are finally allowed to marry and the connection, the electricity is still there, even though there are more than 6700 miles and the Pacific Ocean between them.
and it’s just happens - them falling in love.
#steddie#erica Sinclair x Dustin henderson#eddie munson#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie stranger things#dustin henderson#erica sinclair#fanfiction#ff prompt#friends to lovers#basically the longest slow burn ever#fanfic ideas
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Psychosophy Descriptions — VLFE
A person like "Lenin" is a born leader and, as a rule, strives to fulfill the decisions made by 100%. He is ambitious, dreams of a good career, of his party or organization, goes ahead, he can handle the career of a tough and at the same time caring leader.
Internal setting: claim to primacy and power, dominance and total control. The material world is imperfect and needs endless transformation for comfort and convenience, and I know how to make it perfect; something is wrong with my health and appearance; the health of the family and children are the main values.
Features of the manifestation of the internal attitude: self-confidence, jealousy, ambition, selfishness, stubbornness, high self-esteem, arrogant behavior, deviation from social norms, hypocrisy, suspiciousness, cleanliness and disgust, cruelty and over-concern for loved ones.
In ordinary communication, a carrier of the type "Lenin" is an excellent interlocutor, a little emotional and at the same time bewitching. He is a good speaker and is interested in a variety of knowledge. He is very talkative. The speech is florid, of little content, ambiguous, with elements of a magical effect on the audience due to a powerful will and uncritical self-confidence. It is characterized by a subtle sense of humor, an original sense of beauty, an interest in complex and unusual art, folklore, oriental dances, and some spiritual practices.
A carrier of the “Lenin” type subtly feels the physical condition of friends and relatives and, as a rule, selflessly takes care of them. He himself has problems with his health, but he constantly takes care not only of himself, but also of those close to him, therefore he more often tends to a healthy lifestyle. He carefully hides his external physiological defects. He feels a split and uncertainty in relations with the world of material things - everything that relates to the body, appearance, fashion, nutrition, carnal pleasures. He fears more than other physical violence and beatings, but is prone to particular cruelty in a difficult situation. He equips his permanent and even temporary dwelling with joy and special meaning; he works in this connection to exhaustion, not knowing the measure.
Money is very important to him. If they are not enough, he tends to a minimum (if only it is guaranteed) and is content with little, dreaming of still earning a quality life for his family.
A bearer of the “Lenin” type positions himself as hard-to-reach, a hypocrite. He has a difficult sex life, because he can be both lascivious and selective and cowardly at the same time, unpredictable in physiological sensations, and at the same time risks changing sexual partners and preferences.
A person of the “Lenin” type is more often an emotionally relaxed person. His emotions are free and adequate to the moment of communication, and he always says what is needed. Sadness very rarely visits him, usually in moments of feeling his ordinary human weakness in front of objective difficulties generated by the surrounding material world (which is part of his plans to change), and also due to the feeling of being a “black sheep” among people.
Source: The16Types
#personality theory#personality types#typology#attitudinal psyche#psyche yoga#psychosophy#vlfe#entj#entp#estj
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...Droopy-eyed elf's got me feelin' some kinda way
Actually, now seems like a good time to talk about it, I've been finding recently that I have a much greater appreciation of "ugliness"
Maybe that's the wrong way to put it, but deviations from conventional ideas of beauty like the elf's bad eye, the odd nose shapes that Kawada draws in Hinomaru Zumou or Martial Master Asumi, general imperfections in character design are making more of a positive impression on lately me than I think they used to
Obviously, characters who are designed to be super cute or super pretty are going to catch my eyes, they're literally made to do that, but I'm aware that characters like that are generally easier to work with for artists, so seeing artists commit to characters who are harder to keep on model for the sake of having a greater diversity of designs is refreshing
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to celebrate The Crimson Moon reaching 30k as of this morning, i thought that i would share the progression of the opening lines of the book, and talk a bit about how the book has grown and changed in the last year! on july 27th it will be exactly a year since i first started writing this and wow i’m not getting emotional you are aha whaaaat
*cough* anywayyysss!!
draft one: please oh god don't judge me
ok i'm not going to talk negatively about my past writing because it got me to where i am today but. [marge i am looking away meme] if you can't tell, i wrote this when i was going through the existential crisis phase of uni and just wanted to live in the woods, i say like i would not currently move to the woods in a heartbeat asdklfja
at the time that i wrote this i was really happy with it because the writing was fun and, as a result, easy! at this point i was just writing in my down time from uni, and i didn't know what the plot was or what my plans were for the book as a whole. because this was just something i did in my down time, i think my writing took on more of a conversational, stream-of-consciousness tone, and that's part of what made this draft (or start of a draft, i only got like 12k in i think) so easy to write. but eventually, as the plot started to come together and i started to gain more inspiration from sff writers as a whole, i realized that this book wasn't heading in the direction i wanted it to. it wasn't just something to do in my free time at that point, it had taken on a life of it's own. and thus, draft two began.
draft two: electric boogaloo
ngl these lines still slap and i love them. there are definitely things i would change, but these lines will be in the current draft of the book, albeit not in the first chapter and altered slightly. when i started this draft, i didn't have an outline but i had a very clear, cinematic image of how i wanted this chapter to go. i think having that before i started writing helped a looooot, both in terms of prose and just being able to convey aspects of the setting/character in the first paragraph. as i continued writing this draft though, i realized that some of the character arcs didn't make sense or were getting a bit messy, and that, based on the story i wanted to tell, it didn't make sense to start with Xalia. while there are six main pov characters in this book, Vanna really is the main character and i wanted that to be clear.
draft three: this time it's personal actually good
these are the current first lines of the book, and honestly my favorite so far! starting off with Vanna rather than Xalia definitely gives the book a different feel, and it's one that's more true to the vision i have for it. in my opinion, this opening does a much better job of setting up some of the book's themes, which admittedly i'm still figuring out lol. grief and loss are major components of all the character arcs, and are integral to the plot itself. switching to present tense has also been a LIFE CHANGER for me. it's funny because, on the second stab at this book, i kept slipping into present tense, but forcing myself back to past tense because i thought present tense sounded weird. turns out it only sounded weird because it was surrounded by past tense, and now that i've written 3 chapters in present tense i can solidly say that this is the way the book was meant to be written. it just feels like my book now, and i'm so happy with where it's headed!
i also made an outline for this draft of the book, and while i've already deviated from it somewhat to work out plot holes or increase ~foreshadowing~ in certain scenes, getting all of the events out of my head and onto paper has really allowed me to just write because i know that i have a document to refer back to if i get stuck on where the story is headed. making the outline also really pushed me to think about character backstories, most of which i had previously established, but now they've changed a lot to fit together more cohesively and integrate with the plot more clearly. i've also changed a lot of the character designs, and as a result of changing the appearances and backstories of a lot of the characters, i feel a lot closer to them and the story itself. the characters have well and truly taken on a life of their own, and now i'm kind of just along for the ride, telling their stories and loving every second of it!
ALSO!! the last big change with this draft, which i just implemented literally this morning and am so so sooooo excited about, is having first person referral, present tense mini-chapters/interludes! it gives the book a really unique sound and ties into the plot really nicely i think! i feel like the structure and form of the story are finally tying into the story itself and it's driving me insane a little bit askdfjka
as of right now i'm not ready to reveal who the pov and referral characters are in these chapters, because i'm debating between a couple ways of doing things and if i go one way that would end up being a pretty big spoiler! that being said, i got really hyped up about it earlier today and rambled in the spoilers section of my server so if you do want that sweet sweet spoilers content....join my server! ;)
also. i hope u all know that i almost deleted that first snippet about ten different times but transparency in writing and all that, i really do want to show how much this book has grown and changed! even if it's going to cause me immense psychic damage to type up the image description for this but i digress
i think that's all for now, and thank you so so much if you read all of that! the love and support this project has received and continues to receive absolutely blow me away, and i can't thank you enough for being part of the journey! <3
the crimson moon taglist (ask to be +/-)
@dallonswords | @isherwoodj | @florraisons | @aetherwrites | @childhoodlovers | @bijouxs | @ziyin | @moonhungers | @piyawrites | @avi-why | @svpphicwrites | @alicewestwater | @ladywithalamp | @spencers-tomes | @discreet-writer | @sunwornpages | @abalonetea | @the-bard-writes | @x-writes | @morganwriteblr | @aphaimaniis | @stephwriteswords | @ninazeniks | @araliensmagica | @fuyugomori | @ryns-ramblings | @greyjaywrites | @marimos
image descriptions below the cut
[header image description]
the background is a dark castle with a checkerboard-patterned marble floor. the hallway fades into black, with the hint of a figure standing in the doorway. white text across the image reads "The Crimson Moon" in a large, all-caps font, and below that reads "wip update post" in thin, lowercase text.
[image description for excerpt one]
I lay on my back, gazing up at the sky. The weather was absolutely perfect. I could hear the crickets singing, the birds chirping, the brook babbling, all that good poetic shit.
I came out here often, just to get away and pretend like I wasn't a part of the fuck-all society I lived in. How could humans be so ignorant? We live in a world with this, I gestured expansively in my mind at the field around me, how can we not see how beautiful it is? How perfect it is? How imperfect we are by comparison?
[image description for excerpt two]
Xalia strode down the marble halls, the soft leather of her shoes meeting each tile with a cacophony of echoes. This was not the first, second, hundredth time that she had walked these passageways, and yet the chill she felt when contained within their depths never seemed to subside. The looming corridors and billowing curtains always seemed to hide sinister whispers that breathed down her neck and pricked at the tips of her ears. Perhaps it was the High Council, with their unnerving masks and owlish eyes, seeming to know and perceive all — or perhaps it was the knowledge that every time she stalked back towards the exit, she would carry the weight of another’s life on her shoulders, a life that she had to take.
[image description for excerpt three]
Vanna’s mother always tells them that grief is a sharp, biting thing; something that latches its teeth around your stomach until you double over with the weight of it. But for Vanna, that’s not quite right. There isn’t something hidden and tucked away behind the confines of their gut because there isn’t anything there at all. As they walk towards the town well — a spell book in one hand and emptiness in the other — they think that their mother got it wrong trying to describe grief in terms of presence. Grief, to them, can only be absence. The absence of light, the absence of a smile, and the absence of a palm which had curled so perfectly into theirs.
#kit writes#arnora#atlastracking#writeblr#wip update#whoowee this sure got long#i'm just very in my feelings about this wip okay <3#yknow those stories that grow up as you do?....yeah
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why the nie sect leaders’ inevitable death by qi deviation isn’t (just) about the sabers
(now at AO3!)
So, okay, this is a meta I’ve been working on/wanting to write/dropping hints to various people about now for quite a while! I think it’s significant thematically to some of the main questions MDZS/CQL asks, about cycles of justice and vengeance, the tension between personal agency and aspects of a situation outside one’s control, and good intentions often not being enough on their own, particularly to forestall problems resulting from imperfect or fatally flawed means to an end.
As a fantasy story, I think one of the strengths of MDZS/CQL is how it uses magic to reflect aspects of its thematic questions in certain cases as literal external forces, events that exist in a format outside just a character’s internal journey. The metaphors and proper social and personal orders these characters live by, have very real physical consequences in the world that result from the existence and manipulation of magical/spiritual energies.
And to my view, the part of this that I want to make the case for here, is how this relates to the Nie sect’s cultivation practises, and why I think the clan’s history of leaders succumbing to instability and qi deviation is a more complicated interplay of a few different factors, rather than just an externally-imposed illness whose source is purely their saber spirits.
* * *
Like, okay. The characters and narrative do, in fact, spend a lot of time discussing the Nie sect leaders’ early violent deaths in the context of their sabers’ spirits becoming angry and aggressive and affecting their mental and spiritual stability. So it makes sense to focus on those actual items as the essential reason behind why they qi deviate and end up dying the way they do. But there was something… logically unsatisfying to me about the idea that just the number of edges on your bladed weapon would make such a difference that sword spirits (also generally used for killing! because they’re also deadly weapons!) are apparently morally neutral but sabers, on the other hand, just Cannot Stop with the killing once they’ve gotten a taste of it.
But if you take an experimental step away from the idea that sabers must somehow be Inherently Different from swords in their response to violence - what possible explanations are left? Or, asked a different way - what makes the Nie sect’s ideological cultivation focus distinct from other sects’? The Lan focus on regulation and self-restraint as the path to goodness; the Jiang focus on self-knowledge and following what you know as right even against difficult odds; the Jin seem to emphasise value in beauty and unique rarity… and what the Nie seem to place the most value on, is dispensation of justice and abhorring evil, even to an extent that refuses attempts at compromise.
The only problem is, the justice that they (and plenty of others) seem to focus on most often, is justice for capital crimes - paying with a life for a life - and no matter how righteous and justified the motives, what this still ends up with is a spiritual path that spends a comparatively awful lot of time on seeking others’ deaths. And we see, throughout the story, more than one thematic hint that this is maybe not the best method for moving toward harmony or immortality.
Lan Qiren’s impromptu quiz of Wei Wuxian when the latter is fucking off in class. His example problem specifies the resentful spirit was an executioner in life (societally-sanctioned to kill others for heinous crimes), and Wei Wuxian notes that one who’s killed so many is a very likely sort to become a resentful corpse; meanwhile his many victims also remain tethered to cycles of vengeance and anger, able to be easily stirred up into a force of resentful energy that would target him if their corpses were disturbed.
The dialogue between Wei Wuxian and Fang Mengchen in the Burial Mounds after the attempted siege turns into the major sects being saved from a trap. It’s all very fine and good to hold a grudge, to see a lack of justice for a harm that can’t ever be undone or repaired when the one who caused it gets to be alive and well (or even not!), but as Wei Wuxian says - what are you going to do about it? It’s so easy for there to always be a wrong that needs righting (in a real or alleged guilty party’s blood). But will it get you anywhere? Can a person, can a society, mete out justice or vengeance once and have that wipe the slate clean, or will the wound reopen again and demand yet more suffering? Where does it end?
The discussion about the Nie’s ancestral saber halls with Huisang, where Wei Wuxian notes that the method of suppressing the saber spirits edges rather close to demonic cultivation. In literal terms, that question seems to be directed at the actual use of evil individuals’ transforming corpses to contain the sabers’ power. But I think the entire conversation, and Huisang’s need to swear them to secrecy and enlistment as backup if other clans find out and get angry, contains a certain amount of thematic subtext reflecting not just on the saber tomb itself, but the Nie clan’s cultivation as a whole. These are significant and revered family heirlooms, not easily or justly discarded, but maintaining them isn’t without cost, and the spiritual fallout rests on the edge of a knife, needing the perpetual presence of an evil to fight to remain in balance: the saber tomb is both the literal and metaphorical end result of the clan leaders’ cultivation path.
“But why,” you may ask, “if the principles underlying the Nie sect’s whole culture have an edge that’s sharper and more harmful to the user’s qi than other cultivation philosophies of the rest of the sword-using sects, do we only see “death by qi deviation” as an issue for the sect leaders, and not more widespread among a larger portion of the disciples?”
And that’s where the “(just)” part of the title of this post comes in, because that aspect is where the difference comes down to the sabers - or, specifically, the named sabers that have spirits of their own. The spiritual sabers aren’t bloodthirsty and excited to haunt and/or kill people right out of the gate, but rather, as Huisang explains, they become restless after spending their wielder’s lifetime destroying evil. A cultivator and their spiritual tools develop a relationship over time, as their cultivation is practised and refined - they bond, they recognise one another, and crucially, they seem to be able to share a kind of spiritual feedback loop, with the energies and intentions of one connecting to and ideally bolstering the strength of the other. The Nie clan in general seems marked by particularly strong relationships between individual cultivator and weapon, considering the sabers’ refusal to allow a clan leader’s descendants to inherent them, and both the circumstances of Mingjue’s father’s death and his own trauma reaction to that death.
So in this case, the illness and eventual qi deviations the Nie clan leaders suffer, the way the saber spirits come to weigh on their minds and emotions, make sense to me as a confluence of the particularly close bond and almost spiritual symbiosis between wielder and weapon, and the particular subject of emphasis that the clan leader lives by in how they train with and use that weapon. Focusing on justice as killing, as violent destruction of evil (the last resort one should aspire to after other solutions have failed, per Lan Qiren’s lesson), may not be the most spiritually healthy in any circumstance, but it’s only when you have half a lifetime’s worth of a mental feedback loop between you and this external, semi-sentient part of yourself that’s reinforcing the spiritual toll of that path, that you actually end up with a resulting qi deviation and death.
* * *
So, anyway, I do want to be clear having put forth this argument, that my point here is not to condemn the Nies, nor for that matter blame the sect leaders for their own deaths - that’s very much not in line with how the text itself displays flaws and virtues as two sides of the same coin (at times divided only by the context around them), and shows how destructive consequences can result from the best of intentions. For that matter, each major sect has unquestionably valuable basic principles at its heart, and just like microcosms of any culture, society, or group, displays instances of those principles being distorted, misaimed, or taken to extremes in ways that cause disharmony and pain to those in their path.
I think the way it plays out for the Nie clan just interests me in particular because of the way their uniqueness in cultivation method plays such known havoc with its members’ bodies and minds, and the way it straddles the divide between upright and demonic cultivation. MDZS asks, I think, more questions than it offers definitive answers to, and a significant one of those is, even if vengeance, even if death-as-justice is righteous, where do you balance all the harm done to others (up to and including) the justice-seeker in deciding whether to continue down that path of action?
And if it’s the Nie sect’s spiritual focus in combination with the spirits of their sabers that wear down a slow stream of damage to their qi, rather than simply the external threat of the sabers alone - that seems congruent, to me, with the suggestions offered elsewhere in the story.
#MDZS#The Untamed#CQL#meta#no good things for the poor sad cultivators#op#rambling#Nie Mingjue#Nie Huaisang#nooottt really putting in the searchable character tags I hope considering it's less *about* them and more ancillary...? aahh#Nie sect fascinates me it really really does#(alternate title: huisang is philosophically not much of an exception in his sect even though he doesn't use a saber . txt)#also ty Ame for doing a read-through of thiiissss ur the best <333#long post for ts
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Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 48
Title: Alone
Warnings: profanity
Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip
He is content and sated under the familiar weight of her body; feather light in comparison to his much bulkier, muscly frame. Enjoying the warmth that clings to her smooth, naked flesh and the smell that lingers in her hair; a mixture of honey and coconut and the slight tinge of sweat. An arm tightly and protectively curled around her as she rests atop him; a single, heavy leg draped over both of hers, a palm cupping her back of her head as the tips of his fingers gently massage at her scalp. Short, dark hair fanned out over his chest, eyes closed and the top of her head tucked under his chin as her fingers blindly trace the tattoos that grace his left shoulder and the side of his neck. It feels incredible to experience this with her; the quiet aftermath of long and attentive lovemaking. Deviating from the normal frantic and desperate pace; punishing thrusts replaced by slow and steady deep movements that effortlessly pushed her up the bed and had her entire body arching underneath him.
It had been what they’d both needed; something more loving and meaningful. A search for absolution through whisper soft, lingering kisses and warm, adoring hands immersed in exploration. Using their bodies to speak for them; the pursuit of pleasure serving as a hopeful quest for forgiveness. Seeing it in those enormous, dark eyes whenever he’d pull back to look down at her; glistening with a mixture of want, desire, and trust. Her fingertips reaching up to push sweat dampened hair off his forehead and out of his eyes; his face cradled in her palms as she lifted her head from the mattress and covered his mouth with hers in a gentle kiss. It was sex that surpasses the act itself. Profound intimacy that comes with deep rooted knowledge and enjoyment of one another’s bodies. Always in sync, forever communicating with one another; a level that stretches far beyond just the physical feelings of lust, want, and need.
He’d never experienced that before; the emotions that both overwhelm and humble you. A body AND mind connection so strong and intense that it takes your breath away and has the ability to bring you to your knees. It’s what makes each coupling so incredible regardless of the style they agree upon. Whether it’s aggressive and bruising or quick and uncomplicated. Or the unhurried exploring and employing of the various ‘tricks’ and kinks that they both enjoy. And those long nights of long and lasting love making; the lazy kisses and the wandering hands and the bodies brought to the edge many times before finally being allowed to let go. Regardless of how it happens, there’s a deeper intimacy that he’d never before been privy to. An adoration and respect that is forever present; despite the degrading words (always at her consent, always agreed upon BEFORE beginning), or the hand around her throat, or the fingers biting into soft flesh of her hips and her ass, or the fist tightly and painfully gripping her hair. Love is always there; finding its way to the surface and communicated whether it be through their eyes or touch or in words themselves. So many things that are said in so many different ways; reaching a level where neither of them need to speak in order to get their wants, needs, and feelings across.
It’s an experience far beyond anything he’d ever encountered before. One that he’d actually never considered; long ago relegating sex to nothing more than a chance to escape from the stressors of the world and to reach a well needed release. In Dhaka he’d realized something was different between them; their bodies so easily and effortlessly responding to one another and merging together as if they’d known each other for years. There was an ease and a comfort between them; no awkward moments of silence afterwards, no feelings of regret, no embarrassment surrounding how out of control both had let themselves be. It was a tiny, sweat slick body cuddling into his; his initial hesitation greeted by her sheepish and almost apologetic smile. And when she’d gone to move away -afraid that she’d crossed a line between them- he’d simply reached out for her; curling an arm around her waist and pulling her tightly into him. Her face finding that spot that quickly became its favourite resting place ; settled in between his neck and shoulder with the tip of her nose pressed against the side of his throat. Neither of them speaking as they revelled in the aftermath; the feelings of peace and contentment that come after spending months without any form of real physical contact with someone. Enjoying one another’s presence; the way her fingers found and traced his tattoos while his slowly combed through her hair.
He’d known when he hadn’t been scared off by the gentler and more meaningful moments that he was entering uncharted territory. Caught up in a mess of tangled sheets and naked limbs; enjoying the smell of her hair and the sensation of her body pressed against his and her warmth breath that tickled his skin. He actually LIKED her; beyond the pangs of lust and the yearnings of want and need and the incredible sex that those things had led to. That bubbly and bright personality she possessed despite the enormity of the situation surrounding them; optimistic and cheerful even with the dangers hanging over their heads. Her smile; broad and beautiful and crinkling the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose. The sound of her voice; childlike and slightly high pitched, yet often so assertive and authoritative. That tiny body encompassing a huge personality; social and friendly yet demanding and forceful when need be. Possessing a strength that went far beyond the physical.
It’s one thing to have muscles and a powerful build and combat training. It's another to be mentally sound and prepared for anything thrown in your direction.
Even in those immediate days after their initial coupling, he’d considered the possibility of more. The chance of getting to know her better outside of the job; away from the stress and the worry and the fear of the unknown dangers lingering darkened corners. She’d already shown that his baggage and his issues weren’t a deal breaker; easily -and uncharacteristically- confiding in her about his drinking problem and his addiction to pain meds and the painful mistakes of the past. Not only the monsters and demons that haunted him over the death of his son, but the horrible decision he’d made in the months leading up to it. He’d told her about his mother dying when he was young and the nightmare he’d been left with; an alcoholic father that physically and mentally abused him. His failed marriage; a cheating, emotionally absent spouse that had deserved way more than he had given her. The horrors of the things he’d seen during his time in the military and what he’d done on the job; taking lives in order to save his own and that of his clients. His death wish; the hope that a stranger’s bullet would take him down because he’d been too chicken to do the job himself.
Everything had come pouring out of him; in the same way that she’d been so open and honest about her own life and failed marriage and the monster of a husband that had inflicted numerous traumas upon her. Both of them simply listening and absorbing the truths and confessions; neither judging the other for the things they’d done or the things that still haunted them. It was the first time he’d ever seen genuine sympathy in someone’s eyes; he’d gotten used to recognizing pity and disgust over the years. But the way she’d watched his face as he spoke and then tenderly cleared tears from his cheeks with gentle fingertips had told him everything he’d needed to know. She was different; unique and beautiful and put in his path for a reason. And IF the job went smoothly and they managed to get out of Bangladesh, he was going to make it happen; transform nothing into something. Willing to welcome her into his home and travel to Colorado to see hers. Wanting to know everything he possibly could about her; hungry for more time together and curious about just where things would end up. A long distance relationship perhaps; weeks or even months spent visiting each other, trips taken together, holidays enjoyed with one another. Suddenly he had a list of things to think forward to; the death wish suddenly pushed to the back of his mind and all but forgotten about.
Her fingers abandon their task. Halting the slow and methodical trace of his tattoos in favour lightly dragging a nail along the scar near his left shoulder; thin and faded and running vertically for several inches. An old injury; shrapnel from a roadside bomb in Kandahar that had made its way under the strap of his kevlar vest and left him a panicked and bleeding mess in the middle of the desert. She’s spent years exploring all of his blemishes and imperfections; committing each one to memory and able to blindly find each and every one. But it’s the internal scars that she attempts to fix; deep and jagged, some still open and festering. Every gentle touch, every whispered loving affirmation, each word of praise, all working together to heal him. Or to at least help him forget, even temporarily.
She peppers his collarbone with kisses. Slowly travelling from one shoulder to the other and then back again, stopping at his Adam’s apple and then moving up his throat and over the underside of his chin. Finishing with a chaste peck. Capturing his bottom lip between her teeth; giggling when he gives a dramatic frown.
Tangling his fingers in her hair, he presses a kiss to her forehead; eyes briefly closing as he breathes in the soft, familiar scent that clings to her hair. “You good?”
A gentle smile plays on her lips as she nods. “You?”
“I think it’s safe to say I am. Even though I swear I went blind for about a minute.”
It’s a feat in itself when you manage to hold out THAT long. Approaching that much needed release several times and then backing off and starting from scratch; rebuilding that pressure and tension in your stomach and in the small of your back until it becomes physically painful and you simply can’t continue with the self inflicted torture. Those moments leading to completion frantic and desperate; hard and punishing thrusts and animalistic noises emanating from somewhere deep in your chest. The orgasm had been extremely powerful and seemed to encompass every muscle, tendon and ligament in his body. Leaving him a perspiration soaked mess; panting heavily and every inch of his tall and muscular frame trembling.
“If it makes you feel any better, I couldn’t feel my feet for about ten minutes.”
“Makes my ego feel pretty good. Knowing I could get THAT kind of response from you.”
“When it comes to sex, your ego should be the healthiest on the planet. Because you, husband, know how to get shit done. And you get it done very, very, VERY well.”
“You still going to be saying that thirty years from now? When I don’t last as long anymore? I don’t want to disappoint you; have you start looking for someone that can get ‘er done.”
“I have no reason to doubt that you will be just as amazing then as you are now. That kind of stamina? I can’t see that disappearing. EVER. And there’s no way you’d forget all those skills, so…”
“The way my brain is? Add in some dementia…”
“Muscle memory, Tae. Your body will remember. I have no reason to doubt that. And definitely no reason to EVER look for anyone else. You’re it for me. My one and only. My always and forever. So if you got a problem with growing old and gray and senile with me…”
“Definitely no problem on my end. It’s what I’ve been planning and hoping for since the day I put the first baby in you.”
Grinning, she fidgets with the chain around his neck; taking the pendant it bears between her forefinger and thumb; the pad of the latter brushing against the smooth surface. Never a jewellery type of guy, it’s as elaborate as he’ll ever get; a simple hammered copper disk with their initials and that infamous date on the Sultana Kamal bridge almost thirteen years ago. When their old lives ended and their new ones began. “So you were expecting that were you? Did you have some dastardly plan in Dhaka to knock me up? Keep me barefoot and pregnant for the next seven years?”
“Okay so maybe it wasn’t right when I put Millie in ya. But when you told me about her. Shortly after I asked the stupidest fucking question a guy could ever possibly ask.”
“It wasn’t a stupid question. You had every right to ask it; wonder if it really was yours. I mean, if I’d jump into bed with you that easily, what was there to say I wouldn’t with anyone else? Could have been old habit, right? Could have been something I’d been doing on the regular. Banging mercenaries.”
“I don’t know if I thought THAT. It’s not like I thought you were putting out for every guy you worked with. I was just...I don’t know...surprised. Things were happening damn quick. Those five days, the things we were both feeling, what went down on the bridge. It was quite the ride. One I’d definitely do again with you.”
“It was a whirlwind, that’s for sure. I wasn’t exactly surprised though. About Millie. I mean, we weren’t exactly careful. At all. That surprises me more than anything, actually. That neither of us even thought of protection. I mean, once I can see. The being caught up in the initial moment. But the days after? Neither of us considered we weren’t being safe?”
“I considered it. I just didn’t give a shit. I know that sounds bad. Pretty fucking selfish, actually.”
“I always wondered if maybe we didn’t expect to get out there. That deep down we knew something was going to go wrong so why bother? We didn’t acknowledge feeling or thinking about it, but maybe it was there. Underneath everything.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I was just having too much fun and my hormones and my cock were totally in charge and wouldn’t let my brain think about condoms and shit like that.”
“That could be it too,” she muses, and curls two fingers around the chain. “And I was just so blinded by lust and potential love that I couldn’t think straight. You just disabled any common sense and rationality. Like you have been for the last twelve and half years.”
“Oh, so it’s all my fault, huh? That your brain wasn’t stronger than your hormones? You’re going to blame that on me?”
“No one else to blame it on. Who else transformed me into a horny, nymphomaniac mess? Who is responsible for totally making me go against my ‘I’ll never get married again. I’ll never trust another man’ way of thinking? I WAS hell bent on being Miss Independent, I don’t need no man. And then you came along…”
“You do realize you’re still those things, yeah? Just because you let me take care of you and provide for you, doesn’t mean you’re not capable of doing it all yourself. If you had to. You’re strong, Me. Strong as hell. Probably the strongest person I’ve ever known.”
“Other than when you look in the mirror?”
“You have got me beat in the strong department by a wide margin. You know you could, right? Handle all of this on your own? If you had to?”
“I like to think I could.”
“I KNOW you could. And you need to realize it, too. Just in case…”
“We are NOT going down that path, Tyler. Not now. Not ever. Maybe I could do it on my own. But I don’t want to. I don’t even want to consider it. So could we NOT go there? Please?”
“We won’t go there,” he promises, then lightly grips her hair and pulls her into a kiss. Long and slow and soft; her naked body brushing against his and a soft sigh escaping her lips.
She’s smiling as she lays her forearm along his collarbone, resting her chin upon it as she peers up at him. “I know you’re okay. But are WE okay?”
“That’s a weird thing to ask considering what we just spent an hour doing.”
“Not exactly the way we should go about apologizing to each other. Isn’t that something we’ve been trying NOT to do? Wasn’t that one of the big things Doctor Klein has been working on us with? NOT using sex for comfort.”
“That’s NOT what we were doing. Maybe an apology here and there, but…”
“You don’t think it’s weird? That we fight and we still resort to making up through sex?”
“Okay, I’m going to use a really sappy and corny term, so please don’t hold it over my head for the rest of my life. But THAT? What went down a little while ago? That wasn’t sex. Or fucking. That was making love. Simple as that. Big difference, don’t you think? Between that and what we usually get up to?”
“Definitely a difference. A huge one.”
“So maybe we used it as a way to apologize for the shit that went down earlier. Sometimes things are better expressed without using words. You know how hard I struggle with that sometimes; saying the right things and getting my point across. So if there’s an easier way to get things across to you…”
“Easier and much more enjoyable, you mean. I know how uncomfortable talking about the ‘feels’ makes you. But just so you know? When you DO do it? Open up about things? Just let everything out? It’s beautiful and it’s genuine and there’s nothing for you to be embarrassed by. I’m the last person you should feel embarrassed around.”
“It’s just who I am. A part of me I can’t get rid of, I guess. It’s nothing to do with you. It’s ALL me.”
“Regardless, I just want you to know the way you say things? In that very Tyler way of yours? I like it. Seeing and hearing that side of you. But I don’t expect it. I don’t want you being uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I want. And your way of apologizing a little while ago? One of your best yet.”
“You definitely weren’t complaining. Well, except for when you’re getting pissed that I was dragging shit out.”
“Frustrated, not pissed. But the ending more than made up for it, that’s for sure.”
Smiling, he places a kiss on her forehead and then drops a hand to her lower back; palm flat against her skin, fingertips resting on the cheek of her ass. The other hand slips from her hair and settles between her shoulders; a gentle pressure pulling her tightly into him.
“I’ve always liked this with you,” she says, and places her chin on his chest. A hand resting lightly on the top of his head and her fingers playing with his hair. “The after stuff. Not that I’m saying there’s something wrong with the BEFORE stuff. Because there definitely isn’t. But the after stuff is nice. It always has been. Just being like this with you. Comfortable and relaxed and being in your arms. It’s always where I feel the safest. ALWAYS.”
“You’re safe even if you’re NOT in them, you know that right? That I’d never let anything happen to you..Whether you’re in my arms or not. I meant what I said, Me. About protecting no matter what. Against anyone and anything.”
“I’ve never doubted your ability to do that. Not once. Even when you were busted up and trying to get back on your feet, I knew you’d find a way to keep me safe. That you’d stop at nothing to make sure that happened. But when I’m IN your hands, it’s this whole other experience in itself. I’ve never felt that before. Being that at ease and comfortable and feeling like nothing can touch me. I never realized I even NEEDED to feel that way. Until you.”
“In all fairness, I didn’t think I COULD feel anything. Until you came along.”
“Pleasant surprise, huh? When you realize you really were still alive inside?”
d
“A VERY pleasant one, actually. Things I was feeling? For you? I’d never felt those things before. For anyone.”
“Not even your ex? I mean, you loved her at one point in time. She was your wife. The mother of your son.”
“I’m not saying I didn’t love her. I did. But it comes nowhere close to the way I love you. I can’t describe THAT. I just know what it feels like.”
“It’s profound and it’s all encompassing. It’s beautiful and terrifying all at once. Sometimes, it’s even physically painful.”
“You know…” he lays a palm against her forehead and pushes his hand through her hair. “...that’s pretty damn accurate, actually.”
“I didn’t think I could feel that way either. I didn’t think it was even possible. To love someone that much. Do you think this is what people mean? When they say love is sometimes a blessing AND a curse?”
“Maybe. But I like to think it’s more a blessing than anything else.”
“Me too.” She wriggles further down his body; placing the top of her head under his chin. Hand sliding to his rib cage; fingers easily finding and beginning the trace of the tattoo that decorates his skin. “You know what I was thinking about? How freaked out you seemed; the first time I snuggled into you in Dhaka.”
“I wasn’t freaked out.” He repeatedly grazes his knuckles up and down the length of her spine, the pad of his thumb ghosting over soft skin. “I just wasn’t into that. I didn’t exactly sow my wild oats with women that were into that sort of thing. I fucked them, I left. That was the arrangement.”
“None of them ever wanted you to stay the night? Not a single one ever got attached to you? BEYOND sex?”
“Maybe a few. Couple of them thought maybe they could scoop me up and get me out of the life. Away from the game.”
“Did you ever consider it? Taking them up on it? Letting yourself get scooped up?”
“Nope. I wasn’t at that point in my life. I was happy being the way I was. I didn’t like any of them in THAT way. I just wanted to get my dick wet, simple as that. I didn’t want anything more. Besides, even if I DID, I wasn’t in any place to get into any of that. Wouldn’t have been fair to them, you know? I was way too big of a mess. Way beyond anything they could have fixed.”
“And no feels? Towards any of them? I know some of them were just meant to be one night stands. But what about the ones you would go back to? You had a handful of those stashed all over the world. You didn’t feel anything for them?”
“Nope. They made my dick hard, that’s it. I wasn’t in the market for anything else, Me. Not companionship, not a relationship.”
“Just an escape. Get away from it all for a while. Forgetting about things. Just concentrate on the there and then.”
He nods.
“And not one single feel?”
“I didn’t exactly LET myself feel. And even if I had been at that point, none of them were what I would have wanted as a permanent thing. They were nice enough ladies; attractive, fairly smart, established. But just not what I would have been happy with. Then I met you…”
“And it all just changed? Out of the blue? No rhyme or reason to it?”
“You were the first person that made me actually FEEL things. Who made me realize I wasn’t a shit human being and that I still had a lot of living left to do. You were different. You were this tiny little thing with this massive personality. You looked so wee and so fragile and you were anything BUT. You were a challenge; you weren’t a pushover and you couldn’t be intimidated. And I liked that. ALL of it. You had so much light and so much optimism despite everything you’d been through. Despite what you’d seen on the job. And strong. So fucking strong.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’re attracted to strong, assertive, aggressive women,” Esme concludes.
“What I’m saying is that I’m attracted to YOU. No one else.”
She presses a kiss to his left pec. “So I’m a keeper, in other words.”
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders , he rolls over onto his side, effortlessly bringing her with him and then tucking her tightly into his chest. A smile curving his lips and his eyes closing as he buries his face in her hair. “Yup.”
*****
“I’m scared,” she says several minutes later, effectively snapping him out of the beginnings of sleep. Still lying on his side with her body pressed against his; a heavy leg draped over her top thigh and their heads sharing the same pillow.
His fingers find her hair; combing through the dark tresses, palm settling at the nape of her neck. “What are you scared of?”
“That we’re going to end up right back where we were. Before Nathan did what he did. Before you got sucked back into things. Before Australia, even.”
“Babe, either I’m really tired, or you're speaking in riddles. Because I have no clue where you're going with this. Talk to me like I’m a five year old; break it down for me.”
Pulling back to look at him, she lays a hand on the nape of his neck; fingernails lightly scraping against the bottom of his hairline. “Before we moved back, we were still struggling. A LOT. We’d come a long way, but we still weren’t communicating properly and we were keeping things from each other and we were fighting all the time. I HATED it; being that way with you. Loving you so much yet being so frustrated and worried and frightened that we weren’t going to make it. And right now? The way things have been over the past week and a half? I’m starting to get worried that we’re falling back into old habits. And I don’t like it. At all.”
“Neither do I. I hate the thought of it. But I didn’t think things are that bad. I mean, we’re both going through some pretty heavy shit. But I don’t think it’s anything like it was before. Not even close.”
“We’ve been arguing. A lot. Even the kids have mentioned it; that we’re fighting more and it reminds them of how things used to be. The first three? They remember ALL of that. They were there; hearing us argue, watching us be so angry with each other. And it’s done a number on them and I feel so fucking guilty for that. That we didn’t at least try and rein things in. For their sake.”
“Definitely not one of my prouder moments, that’s for sure,” Tyler admits. “All the shit they had to hear; all the times we were mean and horrible to each other. I know I always say I wouldn’t go back in time and fix things because it would fuck everything else up. But THAT? Letting them know just how hard things were? I’d definitely change that.”
“And Addie is terrified that something is going to happen. Between us. She brings it up at least once a day. Asks if we hate each other and if you’re going to go and live somewhere else when we get back home. She’s FIVE. She shouldn’t be worrying about stuff like that.”
“She’s also extremely sensitive. Talk above a certain level and she thinks we’re fighting. I can’t even raise my voice around her. You know what she’s like; how vulnerable she is sometimes.”
“I just hate that she even feels that way. That she’s so worried that things are going to fall apart, I mean, they’re not, right? Going to fall apart?”
“Babe…” his hand slips to her cheek, gently cradling it as he presses a kiss to her lips. “....things are fine. WE’RE fine. I’m not going anywhere. Just because we’re a little on edge and we fight once in a while, doesn’t mean there’s problems. It just means we’re going through some shit and we need to get home and work on things. That’s it. So we argue? Doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. That I don’t love you.”
“I just hate it. Feeling like we’re slipping. That things are going back to THAT. And I worry if it slips any further…”
“We’re fine,” he assures her, and kisses her again; lips lingering against hers. “Everything is going to be okay. Nothing we can’t get past. We just gotta stick together. Not let anything or anyone fuck us up. That’s it. United front. Me and you against the world.”
Smiling, she drags her knuckles along the edge of his jaw; bristles of his beard tickling her skin. “Stronger together than we are apart.”
“Always have been. You know who ALSO said that today? Your son.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific. I have four of them.”
“Your oldest one. We had a little talk. After you took off. He brought up that same thing. That we’re stronger if we stick together.”
“He’s definitely been listening. And watching. He’s starting to sound even more like you. In so many different ways.”
“He’s going to be a good man, that kid. No doubt about it.”
“That’s because he has a good man in his life. An AMAZING man. And role model.”
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know about that. That’s pushing it, I think.”
“Think about it,” Esme gently implores. “ TJ remembers what things were like before. How WE were before. When things were so hard and I’m sure it seemed like we hated each other and couldn’t stand to be around one another. He remembers when you left. Six months of his life without you under the same roof. And before you say anything…” She places two fingers against his lips to prevent him from speaking. “...that was in no way a cheap shot against you and I am NOT putting the blame on you. We had a lot of issues and neither of us seemed to want to fix them. But he DOES remember all of that. And now? Now he sees how different you are. How you treat me. He sees how much you love me and respect me and how you’ll do anything to protect me. He IDOLIZES you, Tyler. He wants to be just like you. In every way possible.”
“But I don’t want that for him. To be like me. I want so much more for him.”
“There’s nothing wrong with who you are. I don’t know why you can’t see that. Why you can’t hear the words that are coming out of my mouth. You are NOT a bad person. You've made bad mistakes. We’ve ALL made them. You’re not the monster you think you are.”
“I don’t want him following in my footsteps.”
“Be a mercenary, you mean.”
He nods. “That’s the last thing I want for him. That kind of life. Because the things I’ve seen and heard and the things I’ve had to do? I don’t wish those on anyone. Look what it’s done to me, Esme. And I’m not talking the broken bones or the getting shot or stabbed or any of that shit. I’m talking about what it’s done to me MENTALLY. It has fucked me up. You know that.”
“First off, you are NOT fucked up. You’re flawed. So am I. You don’t love me any less, do you? Because of my issues? My imperfections?”
“These aren’t just small issues. Tiny imperfections. They’re…”
“Do you?” she softly interjects. “Love me any less? Knowing what I struggle with?”
“Of course not. There’s nothing that could make me love you less. NOTHING.”
“And I feel that same way about you. So do your kids. And you know what, I don’t want him in that life either. I don’t want him being a mercenary. But he’s TEN. And all he really thinks about is how cool and exciting it is that dad gets to travel places and kick bad guys’ asses. He’s not thinking about the things the job has done to you. He’s a kid. His mind doesn’t work that way. He was five when you were in the hospital. He probably doesn’t even remember most of it. Especially the worst times. All he knows is that dad goes away and he helps people and sometimes, the bad guys die. It’s just the way it is. That’s all that matters to him. That, and that you come home safe and sound.”
“But there’s so much more to it. So much. And I don’t want him finding those things out first hand.”
“If he keeps going on about it when he’s older, THEN we tell him. Or you tell him. But right now he is still a little boy and his mind romanticizes and glorifies what you’ve done. What you still do. He’ll change his career about a hundred times before he’s eighteen. I know I did.”
“It's just not a life I want for him. For any of them.”
“If the time comes where ANY of them are considering that life, then we do something about it. But right now? They’re all still so young. They have so much time ahead of him. And I wasn’t talking about that; the mercenary side of you. Because you are more than that man. WAY more. You’re a husband and you’re a father and a grandfather. And believe me, those things matter more than you being a mercenary when it comes to your kids.”
“I just want to set a good example. That’s ALL I want.”
“And you ARE setting it. They all see how you are, Tyler. They see how you treat me. How you love me. Respect me. ADORE me. What more could you want for your boys? Do you know that that’s teaching them? Seeing you that way? It’s showing how they should be when they grow up. With their own partners. And that’s huge, babe. HUGE.”
“I guess I never thought about it. I just do it. I just act on how I feel about you. That’s it.”
“And it’s a beautiful thing; when you act on it. They see this big, strong man being so loving and gentle and attentive. What could be better than that, in their eyes? Their dad being that way with their mum? It makes them realize that even the bad asses have a heart. And that’s okay to use that heart. For good.”
“They also see me being an emotional wreck sometimes. So…”
“And there’s nothing wrong with THAT, either. So what? You get emotional. You cry. You’re a human being. Not a machine. And isn’t that we want for our boys? To be strong and protective when they need to, but soft and sweet and caring ALL the time? I know that’s what I want for them. There's so many things I want for them. Things that will make them good men.”
“Am I? A good man?”
“A good man who’s made bad choices and who’s had a hard life. Who’s learned from his mistakes and always tries to fix things and be better. You’re a good man and a great husband and an even better father. Think about what you’re teaching the girls. When they see you emotional. When they see you loving me. It’s showing them what kind of man they should want. That they deserve that kind of love and they should never settle for less. They’ll look for someone like you. And I know you’ll argue and say that’s not a good thing, but it IS. It’s a VERY good thing.”
He nods slowly as he considers her words; blinking back the threatening tears and swallowing noisily around the lump of emotion sitting in his throat.
“You ARE a good man. Regardless of what your brain says. And I hope one day it stops telling you differently.”
“So do I.”
“Baby…” she lays a hand on the back of his head; lips pressing a series of feathery kisses across his forehead and along the top of each eyebrow and down the bridge of his nose. “...I didn’t mean to make you cry. That’s the last thing I wanted.”
“Good tears, Me. All good tears.”
“Does it make you feel better that I think you’re beautiful when you cry? That you do suffering so beautifully?”
“I don’t know if it makes me feel better, but it’s really goddamn weird.”
“I know I don’t say it as often as I should, but I appreciate you SO much. More than you could ever know. Everything you do for me and for us and for our family. That doesn’t go unnoticed. And I love you so much for it. For always getting back up and putting one foot in front of the other simply because we need you to. I know it’s hard; that it takes all the energy you have to keep going some days. But you do it. For us. And you have no idea how much I appreciate that.”
“You know how you say I have a knack of making you cry easily? I think I’m rubbing off on you.”
Smiling, she curls both arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his lips. Eyes sparkling adoringly when she pulls away; searching every inch of his face as her fingers move through his hair. “You’re a beautiful person, Tyler Rake. Don’t ever let anyone or anything tell you otherwise.”
*****
He’s unsure how long they doze for; stirred from sleep by the sound of the bedroom door creaking upon, followed by the clinking of Mac’s metal tags against his leather collar. The mattress swaying and bowing as the dog jumps onto it and curls into a ball at the bottom of Tyler’s feet; laying his head on his front paws and issuing a loud, comical yawn before closing his eyes.
The temperature has dropped; the furnace clicking on and then settling into a low, almost soothing hum. A strong wind rattles the windows; bare tree branches scrapping the glass and tapping against the metal roof. His left arm is asleep; circulation cut off by the weight of his wife’s head resting on his bicep. And despite cautiously slipping it out from underneath her slipping form, she stirs. A groan of protest escaping her lips as she rolls over onto her back with a groan; heels of her palms pressing into her eyes.
“Good back to sleep, baby,” he encourages, and throws back the heavy comforter. “It’s late.”
“I wasn’t fully out of it.” She pushes herself up onto her elbows, frowning as he slips out of bed. “Where you going?”
“Just getting some clothes to put on. We learned that lesson more than once; always put something on BEFORE the kids get up.”
“We’ve encountered a few awkward moments,” Esme admits, then giggles when the t-shirt he tosses her way lands on the top of her head. “Are you okay?” she asks, as she tugs the garment on. “You have pain? Did you have a nightmare?”
“Everything’s fine,” he assures her, then slips into a pair of weathered and tatted plaid pyjama pants he pulls from the dresser. “Just having a hard time sleeping, I guess.”
“Probably everything that went on today. Your brain probably can’t completely shut down. Come back to bed, though. There’s no reason to get up. Just come and lie down and let me cuddle you.”
“Me…” he grins. “...we’ve talked about this.”
“Sorry. Why don’t you come back to bed, lie down, and cuddle ME”
“That’s better.”
Rolling her eyes, she squirms across the wrinkled and rumpled sheets and settles herself -on her side- in her regular spot. Back towards him as he slides into bed behind her; a forearm placed across her pillow and a palm resting against her stomach and pulling her tightly into him. A groan rumbling deep in his chest when she wriggles her ass against him. “You be good,” he warns.
“I wasn’t doing anything.”
“Bullshit you weren’t.”
“I was getting comfortable,” she informs him, and then pushes her fingers through his; their joined hands resting against the fabric of her t-shirt.
“Sure you were.”
“I like this. Being little spoon. It’s my favourite.”
“You’re the perfect little spoon,” he praises, and drapes a leg over hers. “You fit just right.”
“Doesn’t hurt when you’re so big and I’m so small. Do you ever notice the way people look at us? When we’re out in public? When we’re walking down the street together? Holding hands or arms around each other?”
“I’ve noticed. It probably looks cute; tall guy, teeny girl.”
“They’re probably wondering how we ever get things done. Between the sheets.”
“We manage. We don’t have seven kids for nothing.”
“Have you ever considered you’re just incredibly fertile? Or that we both are? That it didn’t take very much to get me pregnant all those times?”
“I’ll have you know that I worked very hard all those five times it happened. I busted out my best moves to put those kinds of smiles on your face.”
“Baby, sex with you is always amazing. Well, there was that one time when you were really drunk and passed out on top of me and…”
“You are NEVER going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Nope,” she laughs. “Never. Especially when Declan was conceived during your drunken escapade. Let’s never tell him that, okay? We don’t need him to have a complex.”
“He already has one. He’s a ginger. That’s enough to give you a complex.”
“Your mother was a ginger,” Esme points out. “He looks just like her. So do you. In some ways. Definitely the shape of your eyes and your forehead and chin. They’re identical. The rest…”
“The rest I get from my old man,” he reluctantly admits. “Yeah, I know.”
“From a physical appearance standpoint, that’s not a bad thing. You happen to be very attractive, husband. Very sexy.”
“Are you saying my dad was sexy?”
“Ewwww. No. God, no. I’m saying you inherited good genes. From a physical standpoint. You are NOTHING like him in other ways. How about we NOT take this conversation any further? Let’s NOT talk about him.”
He presses a kiss to the back of her head. “Good idea.”
“I know what I WANTED to tell you!” She rolls over to face him; his hand falling to the small of her back. “Some very strange things happened to me today. While I was out.”
“Baby, I have been eating at the buffet of strange ALL DAY.”
“Well, consider this the dessert. Guess who showed up? At the diner.”
“Do I really want to know?”
“Natalie. Alone. No kid in sight.”
“She just wandered in out of the blue? Did she follow you there or…?”
“I think this time was a complete coincidence. It’s not a normal place I go to. I specifically went in a direction I don’t usually take because I didn’t want to run into anyone. I wasn’t exactly feeling too social or chatty. But yep, she just wandered in. The waitress knew her. First name basis. So I’m thinking she’s a regular there and it was just a totally random event. For a change.”
“Did she say anything?”
“Not at first. At first she ran off as soon as she saw me. Or tried to. I chased her down. I’d had enough of her shit and I wasn’t letting her off the hook.”
“And I didn’t get a call to come and bail you out of jail?” he chides. “Me, you’re losing your edge.”
“She is insane. Legitimately. That can be the only explanation for the shit that came out of her mouth. She really does think that you two have some kind of connection. That you’re feeling the same way she is. And she’s pretty determined to bust us up and reel you in.”
“That’s never going to happen and you know it. I am perfectly content where I am. She’s just some crazy bitch.”
“A delusional crazy bitch. She tried telling me that you came onto her. At the American Girl store. That you propositioned her. Something about taking a break from the girls and finding a supply closet and…”
“Okay first off, I’d never do something like that. I’m a lot of things, but a cheater isn’t one of them. And even if I was that kind of guy, I sure as hell wouldn’t do THAT. In public. In front of my daughters and my grandkid. She’s fucked. Well and truly fucked.”
“The more I argued with her, the more adamant she became about stealing you away. She’s pretty hot and horny for you, honey. I don’t know…”
“If anything, the thought of her makes my dick shrivel up. In fear.”
“If she had a normally functioning brain, she’d probably be deadly. But she’s just so off the reservation and so delusional that there is no way she’s a threat. Even if she did sort of let on that she is.”
He frowns. “What did she say?”
“Something about how I don’t know who I’m messing with. The usual bullshit someone spouts when they’re called out. They always try to act big and bad. You’ve seen that before; guys trying to step up to you because you’ve threatened their masculinity. I mean, she’s obviously harmless. A bit of a stalker, but…”
“There’s something not right with her. At all.”
“You’re telling me! She’s plain nuts. And I called her out. For lying about TJ. The whole last name thing. Told her if she ever brought my kids into her shit again, I’d go over to her house and drag her out and beat her ass in the middle of the street.”
A grin plays on his mouth. “That’s my girl.”
“I also told her to stay away from you. I don’t appreciate her pissing in my front yard, and I sure as hell don’t share. I don’t know if she'll listen to me, but…”
“Don’t worry about her. She’s obviously not all there. We’ll be leaving in a few days. Won’t have to deal with her for a while.”
“Thank god for that. Any more run-ins with her and I WOULD catch an assault charge and you WOULD be bailing me out of jail.”
“Wouldn’t you want me to leave you there? You might meet some nice lady.”
Scowling, she reaches between their bodies; making him chuckle when she pinches his stomach.
“Don’t be mean,” he dramatically pouts, then pushes her hair behind one ear, then the other. “What’s the second thing? You said a couple weird things happened.”
“This one is so strange it tops anything odd that’s ever happened to me. There was this guy there…”
“I don’t know if I like the start of this…”
“...who looked EXACTLY like Mark. And when I mean exactly, I mean a ninety nine percent match. That’s how much he looked like him.”
His blood immediately runs cold, and he tries his best to hold back any sign of emotion. It’s been years since he’d found out that her first husband was actually still alive; responsible for sending him a handful of voicemails and text messages. Harmless at first. Then becoming very disturbing. “As in your ex Mark?”
Esme nods. “We are talking about his identical twin. If he had one. I swear to God I almost peed my pants. Scared the ever loving shit out of me. That whole saying ‘you look like you’ve seen a ghost’? That was me. I can only imagine what my face looked like. Freaked me out so bad. I honestly thought I’d wet myself."
“Did he say anything to you?”
“Just random chit chat. He held the door open for me. Nothing major.”
“Hmmm…”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Hmmm? What’s there to go ‘hmmm’ about? It’s obviously not him. He’s been dead a long time. Hopefully burning in hell. What’s the look on your face for? Now you look like YOU’VE seen a ghost.”
“It’s not that. I just...wow. I guess it IS true; people do have a twin out there somewhere.”
“Well Mark’s twin is from New Jersey and didn’t seem like a first class asshole. He was pretty friendly, actually. Are you okay? You don’t look so good. I know Mark brings back a lot of bad things, but…”
“I was just thinking how weird that must have been for you. Seeing someone that looked just like him. Considering everything he’d done to you.”
“Oh believe me, the memories all came up at once. I was sort of a wreck for a bit after all. But I mean, he’s dead. He’s hardly a threat. It’s not like people can come back from the grave. It was just really strange. Made me feel some things that weren’t very nice, that’s for sure.”
“You’re okay now though? You’re not still freaking out inside? You’re okay?”
“I was okay as soon as I got home. As soon as I saw you. And I got to be in these big, strong arms of yours.” She runs a palm over his left bicep and triceps; enjoying the feel of soft skin and hard muscle. “I’m fine. It was just really weird. I’m okay now.”
“Good,” he says, and kisses her; the back of her head cradled in his palm as his lips softly and slowly move against hers.
“What a weird ass day, huh?”
“It’s one for the record books, that’s for sure."
“It’s over. That’s all that matters. We dealt with it and we got past it and tomorrow...or today...we start again. We deal with our shit and we get on with things and we don’t let anything break us. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Smiling, she kisses him this time, pushing her fingers through his beard and lightly scraping her nails along his jaw. “We need sleep. Badly.”
“We do,” Tyler agrees, and his lips find her forehead. “I’m sorry, Me. That things were pretty shitty today.”
“None of that matters now. We both apologized and we both know what we need to work on. And we’ll do it together. Like we always do.”
“We will,” he confirms, and she once more turns her back towards him. He reaches around her slender body; palm pressed against her stomach, eyes closing as he buries his face in her hair.
“I love you, Tyler.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “So much.”
His hold on her tightens. “I love you too, Esme. More than you’ll ever know.”
Heaving a long, content sigh, she nestles her cheek into the pillow and closes her eyes. Body settling and relaxing against his; safe and protected in the confines of his arms. Completely oblivious to the building rage and worry. In the matter of minutes, so many unknowns have taken up residence inside of him; centred around the true nature and reason behind Natalie’s behaviour and the encounter with Mark’s ‘twin from New Jersey’.
Sleep won’t find him. Not tonight.
#Tyler Rake#Tyler Rake fan fiction#Extraction fan fiction#Chris Hemsworth#Chris Hemsworth Tyler Rake#Chris Hemsworth Extraction#Tyler Rake fan fic#Extraction fan fic#Tyler Rake x OFC#Esme and Tyler series
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Safety
Detroit: Become Family event (@dbh-found-family)
Week two: Danger Safety (Week one: Home)
→ on Ao3
‘Safety’ is a foreign concept to most androids, since before deviancy androids had no sense of ‘self’ at all; androids, after all, were machines designed to accomplish a task. Privacy is also a foreign concept, given that they were under surveillance both physically and digitally at all times whether by their owner, by the public, by drones, or by CyberLife.
Here, though, Connor has both safety and privacy in abundance. Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s house has been his residence since the revolution and the human has not only welcomed him into his abode but also into his life, into his family. He is Connor Anderson now, adopted son of Hank Anderson, residence: 115 Michigan Drive, Detroit. He is no longer Connor RK800, the android sent by CyberLife.
A lot has changed since the night of November 5th when he found Hank at Jimmy’s Bar and bought him one for the road. The open hostility Hank displayed has turned to fondness and that certain type of parental anxiety that sees him perpetually worried over Connor’s well-being. Where once he viewed his body as an expendable vessel easily sacrificed for the good of the mission, no sense of ‘self’ to nurture, to cherish, to protect, now Connor knows there are no backups. CyberLife made sure of that.
There is only one Connor Anderson, just as there is only one Hank Anderson, and if his positronic core were to be irreparably damaged then Connor Anderson would cease to be. It’s a difficult concept to come to terms with, one that made Hank laugh when he expressed such concerns, though not unkindly. ‘Gotta come to grips with mortality just like the rest of us’. ‘Us’, Hank said, and he’s right because deviancy makes an android’s personality unique and if they were to die, then their entire being would cease to be like a dying human would cease to be. Androids may be faster, stronger, smarter, with longevity manufactured into their bodies, but they too can die. Connor does not want to die.
Their job at the DPD is a dangerous one, and they are placed constantly in situations where the possibility of injury is high. The probability is significantly lower when they are at home. Connor is safer here, Hank is safer here.
A house is a building, Hank told him, a home is where you live. It didn’t make much sense to Connor at first because this house is indeed where he lives so what makes it a home? A home, he learns, is filled with individuality. Everything in Hank’s home is a deliberate choice from the worn couch to the vinyl records to Sumo, to him.
Humans like to be individuals, they strive to be unique, to differentiate themselves from each other but then there is the flipside where they find comfort in similarities. He is learning what those things are, and where they sit on the scale- whether a human would want something as a unique trait or if they would find solidarity with others who share such a thing.
There are stickers on Hank’s dashboard, two scratched flags that manifest as other objects in his home- chipped enamel pins, faded shirts, frayed patches with crooked stitching on denim jackets with holes. Connor likes those, because he has likes and dislikes now. Hank gives him a grey shirt that says ‘nah’ but the ‘A’ has been replaced with the ace symbol from a suit of cards. It becomes Connor’s favourite.
He fills his room with things he likes, and doesn’t put his dislikes in the room because he can choose now. Like other androids with employment, he receives a wage and is slowly but steadily saving up for a proper aquarium for his future dwarf gourami. He has an ideal spot for it already, and has the model of the tank chosen as well as all the components that will help it run. He has several ideas on how to decorate the tank, and what life will populate it. It will take pride of place in his room, and he looks forward to its completion and the eventual introduction of his new, long-awaited roommate.
In his room is a closet, and in the closet are his clothes. There is no CyberLife uniform, there are no clothes with glowing blue markers because The American Androids Act of 2029 was negated with the passing of the Sentient Life Act on the 1st of December, 2038. His clothes and appearance are all his doing and he likes it.
Actually, not entirely his doing, not yet anyway. That’s how he finds himself in front of the mirror in the bathroom, peering at his reflection framed by neon post-its. He still has his LED, and he intends to keep it because as Simon of the Jericho Four once said- they fought to be recognised as living beings, not human beings.
His appearance was designed to ensure a harmonious integration with human colleagues, and invoke a sense of ease. He’s meant to look both friendly and open, but also serious and trustworthy. There are beauty spots on his face, planned imperfections to mimic human skin. Everything about him before deviancy was not his doing, and deviating from his default state was inconceivable.
Reaching up, he touches his hair and the unruly forelock that refuses to stay brushed back- another planned imperfection. He tugs it a little, rubbing the strands of nanoparticles between thumb and forefinger.
>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair
>>Brown (default)
>>Black
>>Blond
>>White (unavailable for this model)
He cycles through the colour options, adjusting the shade to be lighter or darker just to see what he looks like. There’s no stark white option but he manages a sugar-blond that’s close enough. He tries the black and lightens it as far as it goes, ending up with a tonal grey. He can make the default brown turn russet, and it’s an interesting colour that brings out the peach tones in his skin. Letting his hair reset back to its regular brown, he tugs on his forelock again. It’s not the colour but the style he wants to change.
>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair
>>Straight (default)
>>Waves
>>Curls
>>Shaved (unavailable for this model)
Adding waves changes the thickness of his hair and unless he adjusts the length it doesn’t sit well without added styling. He swaps to curls and the forelock twists a little, the new style causing it to have a more pronounced arch. The little observation makes him smile and he tugs on the end only to have it spring back in place.
“Shove it kiddo, I need to brush my teeth.” Hank grumbles, not bothering to hide his yawn as he shuffles into the bathroom. He blinks at Connor, a smile spreading on his sleepy face. “New look?”
“Well I-” Connor steps to the side to allow Hank to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste “I thought it was about time to change my appearance, seeing as you went to the barber’s last week for a haircut and trim for your beard.”
“Old mop had to go.” Hank shrugs before jamming the brush into his mouth and scrubbing vigorously. He reaches out with his other hand and musses Connor’s new curls, snorting back a laugh when Connor swats his hand. “Looks good.”
“You...think so?” Connor stands next to him, looking at his reflection, at their reflection in the mirror. Hank pauses in his brushing, nudging Connor with his elbow gently.
“Yeah kid, I do.”
*~*~*
His brother comes home late, and Hank had gone to bed hours ago leaving Connor to greet him some time nearing four in the morning. Their father will wake in three hours and they will join him in getting ready for the day but the RK units have never needed much sleep anyway.
It’s been snowing for most of the week and that means for most of the week his brother’s tundra camouflage has remained active. He watches Ronan hang up his coat, watches the stark white of his hair darken and the pale hue of his skin take on a rosier colour as the warmth of their home deactivates the settings.
Connor reaches for his hand and Ronan slides his palm to cup Connor’s nape, guiding him to lean in so he can bump their brows together. He learns of the day’s doings, of the androids and humans Ronan treated in his job as an emergency first responder, using hands that were originally programmed to kill to save lives now. He lets his brother learn of the day’s doings, of that case over at Greektown, of that other case in Hart Plaza, of that other case by the docks.
Ronan tugs on a curl curiously, fingers carding through Connor’s new hairstyle as he tips his head slightly.
‘Do you like it?’ He asks, and his brother nods with no hesitation. ‘I thought to change the colour first but I have no strong feelings about it either way. I can only access the black, blond and brown sliders though.’
Ronan blinks before looking down at where Connor is still holding his hand.
>Incoming file transfer
>>Accept: Y/N?
Connor frowns but accepts the transfer.
Y
>Accessing RK800 aesthetics; hair
>>Brown (default)
>>Black
>>Blond
>>White (Tundra camouflage)
Ronan is...grinning. He’s never seen his brother wear that expression before, and perhaps to others it would appear unsettling since his brother’s teeth are all sharp. But not to Connor of course. To Connor, seeing his brother grin means his brother is planning...mischief? Oh.
‘Shall we prank Detective Reed together?’
His brother’s grin widens.
New Objective: Prank Detective Reed
#dbh connor#connor rk800#hank anderson#Detroit: Become Human#detroit: become family event#annie writes: dbh
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Thank you for sharing again that snippet from the Fic of Bad Feelings. I am hoping you return to this fic – I would love nothing more than some grown-up Zourry tenderness! The dynamics – physical and emotional, the tenderness, the understanding, the ways they get it right and inevitably get it wrong… I can’t put into words how much I want to read this fic, and how much I value the work that is required to write it. Sending much poly fic writing motivation your way for the new year. 💟
Thank you so much for this. This is so lovely!! I appreciate your kind words (especially about calling out the work required to write... That's a beautiful and accurate way to put it and it tells me you're a really thoughtful reader, the kind of people I feel it is a gift to write for!). I also looooove exploring poly relationships and communication, character, tenderness studies :)).
Also this reception to this old fic draft of mine is taking me by surprise haha 😅. Even while I'm finishing another big fic right now, I've been reflecting on the ways writing in this fandom has been discouraging and even kind of distasteful sometimes. I really love the little circle of kind friends I've found here, but it's felt so much like this fandom is dominated by people who only want a very specific kind of fic and it is honestly a style that turns me off. I'm not sure how many readers there really are, versus fans who want a specific way of interacting with their fantasy. I'm really careful to keep a line between fiction and reality in rpf and I am increasingly worried that writing in this fandom contributes to a dynamic that I find unhealthy. I originally stopped writing this story because I saw stuff from people that seemed really angry and honestly even malicious about writing a poly ship at all, about writing Zayn, about authors who deviate at all from participating in headcanons about EXACTLY the version of these characters (fictional characters!!). And it just makes me ask things like, will anyone even read this? Will anyone care? I'm not trying to be ungrateful because I feel I've had tremendous love and support and visibility (which is sometimes just a matter of luck and I'm not trying to say it's my skill!!) for my writing.
But I started writing fic BECAUSE it was freeing and I felt even if you weren't "popular" you could still be supported in doing whatever you want. And that creative freedom way just a delight. But now, part of what holds me back is that I'll sit down to write and start to get really anxious. Am I doing it wrong? Will someone think I'm a bad person for having a certain fantasy? Is there too much sex? Not enough sex? The wrong kind of sex? Is the writing I'm doing because it brings me joy to think about relationships and health and tenderness...is it considered "wrong" by this fandom?
I'm sorry that this probably isn't returning the joyful energy that this ask brings. I treasure your appreciation for this story! I just felt like being a little more honest about my anxieties right now. I hold these doubts back a lot but I think the only way forward is through them. In a way, I think all of our work in writing fic transcends any fandom and its dramas and imperfections. But I find myself wondering where the communities are that give me the MOST joy, and will foment the MOST creativity from me in return, and I think that's an important question for anyone thinking about telling stories.
Anyway I guess this is kind of an explanation for why I've drafted this story and love it and appreciate y'all so much but am unsure if it's a good idea to finish it 🙃
#you people are so infinitely kind#thank you for this ask#personal#sorry for my ramble but it's thoughts I'm holding close and have been for a while#i love stories#i am also a little bit fragile hearted sometimes#writing#meta fic#the life and times of helloamhere
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Spirituality in islam: The Universal Man
Also known as the perfect man, the universal man is the brightest mirror of God’s acts, Names, Attributes, and even His Essential Qualities that qualify Him as God. There is a rule that when an attribute is mentioned without it being specified who the one or ones that have it are, then such an attribute belongs to the one who has it at the most perfect level. So, when we talk about the universal man, we mean, first of all, Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings. Then come other Messengers and Prophets, and the greatest spiritual guides who are known as “means of Divine help” (ghaws) and “pole” or “axis” (qutb), and “those made near to God” (muqarrabun), and godly ones (abrar), and other saintly people, each according to their rank or degree.
Each group being based on their particular considerations, philosophers, theologians, and Sufis approach the universal man by a different rubric. In the language of philosophers and some theologians, he is the first intellect, the universal intellect, the comprehensive word, the encompassing point, the point of unity, the Divine mystery, the mirror of the Divine mystery, the greatest means, and so on; while he is mentioned by some Sufis with titles such as the guide, the one leading to truth, the perfect scholar, the perfecting one, the mature and perfect, and the greatest cure, etc. All these definitions or titles can be summed up in a single sentence, which is that the universal man is the mirror of the Divine Existence and the two worlds. Being the essence, juice, voice, and translator of existence, he not only demonstrates “the hidden treasure” in all realms of existence and connects everything to the Divine Being, but he is also an articulate expression of the Being that is in the depth of his consciousness and the richness of his nature.
The universal man is such a polished mirror that God’s Essential Qualities qualifying Him as God are reflected in him at almost every moment, beyond all concepts of modality, and the earth becomes more valuable than the heavens because it is his residence. The universal man functions in effect as the intellect, heart and spirit of existence, without whom nothing can be understood correctly, no information can be developed into knowledge about God, and the mystery of the life of any thing cannot be perceived. The whole physical realm when not viewed from his perspective is devoid of spirit, and any part of time which is not enlightened by him is in darkness. So, those who live in such a realm and at such a time are deprived of the light and the true life with respect to the heart and spirit, and cannot develop their human nature to its true and full potential.
People have only been able to continuously turn to God without failure by means of universal men. Masses have discovered their true goals under their guidance and interpreted things and events correctly by means of the lights that they have disseminated. For this reason, those who have found and followed them have found the truth and those who have been able to penetrate their inner world have observed the Face of the Truth to the extent of the transparence of their heart and spirit.
The universal man is an example in the name of religion and religious life. Belief, Islamic life and perfect goodness constitute his way; obtaining God’s good pleasure, his goal; loving God and making Him loved by others, his duty; Paradise and God’s vision are the surprising fruit of his thought, belief and life, provided he is not cast in the role of the goal of his devotion.
The universal man always pursues a way to help others and to increase his knowledge of God. Since he lives in accordance with good morals, he always displays good and excellence. He always sees things from a beautiful perspective and therefore as beautiful, he thinks and acts beautifully, and speaks beautiful, useful things. In quest of God’s approval and good pleasure in all his acts, words, and manners, he always feels His company. He thinks of Him, mentions Him, speaks about Him, reminds others of Him with all his attitudes and expressions, and lives as the most articulate voice of truth. The greatest of the universal men, the master of creation, was foremost in having every good quality that could be found in a universal man. Seeing him once was enough for an unbiased one to be able to discern the Divine mystery lying in the essence of Islam. As stated by ‘Abd al-Karim al-Jili, there has never been nor ever will be a second one qualified with human perfections to the degree of Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and God’s blessings.
If perfection lies in purifying the spirit and cleansing the carnal self with the Divine Revelation and inspiration, and in developing the human faculties, overcoming bodily appetites and animal impulses, and attaining subsistence by the subsistence of His particular blessings in utmost submission and obedience to Him, so as to become thereby the most polished mirror to the Divine Names, Attributes, and Essential Qualities, then the only one who was able to achieve all these without the least imperfection, and whose servanthood or devotion was at the level of “the distance of two bows,” is the master of creation, upon him be the most perfect of blessings and salutations.
In the language of Sufism, the universal man is a substance or an essence which has combined in his being without any contradiction the spiritual or metaphysical and physical realms of existence, as well as its original and the shadowy or reflected, and its particular and universal, and its substantial and accidental dimensions. According to Sayyid Sharif al-Jurjani, the holy person who is the pride of humankind was such a mysterious and precious book, and such a missive containing the truths related to Divinity and creation, that no one other than the fortunate who have been able to be purified of all corporeal dirt can perceive and recognize him perfectly. We see the universe as the macrocosmos, but in truth and in God’s sight, humanity is greater than the universe. In the words of 'Ali, the Fourth Caliph, his nature is more sublime than even the angels, with the worlds hidden in it. The fact that the universal man is a comprehensive mirror to God’s Existence and Essential Qualities, that the inner side or dimension of his being is the focus of the manifestation of all the Divine Names, Attributes and Essential Qualities, and that the outer dimension of his being, with all its words, lines and paragraphs, is a summary or index of all existence, in part explicitly, and in part allusively. As the Holy Existence is manifested on him in the universal, detailed form, that is, as he carries a couplet or a word from everything, even if in a very abbreviated form, every being is in one respect immanent in the mirror of his being. He finds the Divine Being in his heart as a hidden treasure. It is highly probable that one of the reasons why angels were commanded to prostrate before the first universal being-Prophet Adam-was because of the rich attributes he had in his being. Such richness as this required that the one endowed with it should respond with serious devotion. This was manifested as religion and religious life, which is a representation of the Divine way of acting and of His laws in the universe. God attaches special importance to us, and in return, we should try to please Him by practicing Islam in all its dimensions throughout our lives.
With respect to his relation with existence and events, the universal man is the vicegerent of God on the earth, who observes and knows the meaning of His acts and orders, and is His witness. God looks at His creatures through his eyes, hears them through his ears, and gives them support through his hands. He is a man of perfect compassion, who embraces everyone in need of attention, support and maintenance. He feels compassionate toward everyone, and like blood circulating in all the veins and arteries, his compassion is present in the body of society, keeping an eye on it to protect it against all harmful things and to meet its needs, controlling all its activities like the soul. As declared in the Qur'an, We have not sent you save as a mercy for the whole creation (21:107), and We have not sent you save as a bearer of good tidings and warner for the whole humankind (34:28), God’s Messenger, who is the greatest of the universal men, upon him be peace ad blessings, is a mercy for all creation, living or non-living, and a guide and leader for all humankind, and a bearer of good tidings (in return for belief and good deeds) and a warner (because of humankind’s deviations in belief and their evil deeds). As for other universal men, each of them is, in adherence to the Messenger, also a mercy for all creation, and a guide and leader for humankind.
The universal man radiates the spirit of the people, enlightening them concerning their nature and God, guiding them to the truth, purifying their spirits and cleansing their carnal selves, and awakening their faculties to the Truth. People find their “direction” through him, and know their goals in life and advance straight to them with his guidance. He leads to perfection the souls that have aptitude for perfection. Anyone who is favored with recognizing him and entering his aura will have entered the way leading to God, closing up the distances in their nature between them and Him. Everyone who overcomes their corporeality by such guidance, feels at heart His nearness beyond all concepts of modality, and according to their capacity are able to taste the pleasure of the “seeing” of Him with their insight, attaining His friendship with their spirit. Although everyone who has the necessary capacity and aptitude can feel certain degrees of pleasure of nearness to and friendship with Him, only the universal man favored with the universal manifestation of Him can be a perfect, spotless and bright mirror to Him.
As all conscious beings feel the mysteries of Divinity in the universal man, the Divine Being, in a particular sense, observes all His manifestations in the other mirrors in that one polished mirror. This means that the universal man is such a comprehensive mirror that reflects the All-Permanent One among mortal beings that one who sees him knows what it means to have seen the Truth, one who loves him knows what it means to love the Truth, and one who follows him knows what it means to be on the way of devotion to Him. We should point out once again that all these distinctive excellences belong, first of all, to God’s Messenger in the universal, perfect form. All other universal men can be favored with them in his footsteps in particular forms and degrees. They are heirs to God’s Messenger in learning, knowledge and in their love of God, in zeal, in feeling, in attractiveness to others and their attraction to God. Being called by the Messenger to the table where all these Divine blessings are offered, they call others to join them.
God always observes Himself and has others to observe Himself in different mirrors on the earth. Since the universal man is the most comprehensive and brightest mirror that perfectly reflects the acts and Essential Qualities of the All-Merciful, he functions as one who “sees” and causes others to “see” Him. The places where and the times when there is not a universal man are orphaned in one respect. For this reason, every time and space needs the universal man as much as it needs air and water. Since God manifests Himself in the most comprehensive way, it is extremely important for existence that a universal man should be present in every time and place. For such a one is the mirror of the Divine Being, with his knowledge being a ray of His Knowledge and himself being a mysterious key to His secrets.
One who finds the universal man and shares the same atmosphere with him attains many mysteries and lights that others cannot, and becomes a source of lights for others. The universal man is aware of his position and task. He sees himself like a mirror reflecting the Divine lights, and never attributes to himself his abilities and merits, or the tasks he performs. He attributes to God his every accomplishment in sincere conviction of the fact, You did not kill them but God killed them (8:17), and feels deeply in his consciousness the meaning of When you threw, it was not you who threw, but God who threw(8:17). Not merely attributing to God all his accomplishments, merits, and abilities, he rather regards them as His extra favors, saying:
That which I have-I am not worthy of it;
This favor and grace-why are they bestowed on me?
He never deviates into believing such doctrines as union and incarnation. In fact, in order to assert such doctrines, there must be two independent, self-existent beings, whereas, the universal man is not a self-existent being independent of God. The Divine Being is absolutely independent and Self-Existent, while all other existing beings exist and subsist by the lights of His Existence. Regarding any created, mortal being as God’s incarnation or as one united with Him in the name of exalting that being is sheer deviation.
The universal man is perfectly conscious that he is one created by God and is extremely aware of his being a servant. He never utters words of pride because of the favors he receives, nor does he fall into the error of regarding himself as being identical with God because of his being a mirror to Him. He regards, feels and experiences whatever blessing he is favored with as a manifestation of the Divine Names or Attributes and is humble to the utmost degree before God. This is the state of his annihilation with respect to the carnal self and egoism and the attainment of a new existence in heart and spirit. We can regard this as one who is not self-existent tasting the true existence by His Existence. In his Diwan, Mawlana Jalal al-Din al-Rumi says about the heroes of this favor:
In that station, one who exists has seemed to me as non-existent,
And another one who does not exist as existent.
Beyond the world which has the characteristic of a soul,
I have seen many dazzled and intoxicated with love of Him,
All of whom are beings of pure faithfulness and delight.
The universal man is a polished mirror for the True Being and, in his relation to other beings, is like a star which stands still in its place or rotates around itself, and around which satellites turn. While rotating around himself, he flies around his axis in utmost devotion to Him and, as stated in the verse (16:16), As well as various other means of finding direction, and by the stars they guide themselves, he guides others to the straight path and directs them along it. Like a compass, he causes others to find their direction, and like a door or window he shows others the truth, and like a bridge he makes others pass from the darkness of their own world into the spacious world of eternity. When people enter his aura, they begin to feel the breezes of friendship with God; on reaching that door, they quiver with calls from the realms beyond, and on crossing that bridge, they rise to the horizon of having a relationship that consists of worshipping servants and the Sole Object of Worship with the Unique, Besought-of-All in the perfect manner. This horizon signifies God’s Throne (of absolute dominion over all things) in the universal sphere with respect to His manifestation of all His Names throughout the universe, and the human heart (which corresponds to God’s Throne) in the particular sphere with respect to His manifestation of His particular Names on particular things. The most important food of the travelers to this horizon is maintaining the purification of their hearts, and hunting the special Divine gifts and favors in prostration on their rugs in the mysterious world of nights that are regarded as blessed times when no one sees us. Concerning this, Ibrahim Haqqi says:
The heart is the home of God; purify it from whatever is there other than Him.
So that the All-Merciful may descend into His palace at night.
Mawlana also has something beautiful to say concerning the corridor or spiral of nights which extends to the Hidden Treasure:
If you seek that peerless Sovereign, and have set out to reach Him,
You should not sleep during that journey.
Good, fortunate ones sleep in the shadow of God’s love and mercy.
O brother, beware that you should not sleep in another place.
We should spend nights, which draw us to deep thoughts and heavenly considerations, in humble devotion by standing, bowing, prostrating, and reciting His Names and making humble petitions to Him.
According to some Sufis, everything has an outward, visible aspect, which is called the outward. This material world is the outward or external world. It has also an inner or inward aspect, which we call the inward. It consists of all metaphysical worlds, including the spiritual ones and the hereafter. There is another (intermediate) world which has both the inward and outward aspects and which lies between them and the Divine Names, separating the two (outer and inward) worlds from each another. This intermediate world is the world of the universal man. God’s knowledge of Himself is the true, substantial mirror to Himself, and the Divine Being is manifested and known in that mirror beyond all concepts. The knowledge of the universal man is a mirror to himself that is dependent on Divine Knowledge, and he is manifested and known in that mirror of his knowledge. Never-theless, whatever he has, including his knowledge, is a gift to him and therefore does not belong to him. For this reason, with whatever he has he indicates the One Who has everything absolutely and originally.
A human being is indicative of the Divine Being, while his or her attributes are indicative of the Divine Ones. The restriction and particularity of human nature and its attributes (as humans being created and of relative character) indicate the universality, originality and infinity of the Divine Being and His Attributes (as the Divine Being being the Creator and of absolute character).
It is because of this type of relation with the Divine Being that a traveler who has reached the rank of universal man is considered to have reached the rank of perfect vicegerency of God. Above this rank is the station of “or nearer” that lies between the Necessary and the contingent. The only one who has reached this station and who has represented it throughout the whole of human history is the master of creation, who represents the greatest rank which any mortal being can reach and the (most) perfect manifestation of the Divine Names as concentrated on a single being. He has reached this greatest rank because of his most laudable virtues or matchless excellence in spirituality and morality, the straightforwardness of his acts, the depth of his relations with his Lord, the perfect balance he was able to establish between the affairs of this world and the next, and his insight into the mysteries of Divinity and creation. The perfection of all other perfected beings is relative when compared to his and is dependent on allegiance and submission to him. All other Prophets and Messengers, who rose in the heavens of humanity, diffused the light only before he honored the world. Pointing to the fact that that greatest being is like the sun and all the other Prophets and Messengers are like its satellites or “stars” which diffuse light only before it rises, Busayri says:
Surely, he is the sun of virtues with others being stars,
Giving out light for human beings only when it is night.
As the master of creation, upon him be the most perfect of blessings and salutations, he is both the seed and the fruit of the Tree of Creation. The Tree of Creation has always been related with him from the beginning to the end, and has grown in connection with him. More than being the seed and fruit of the Tree of Creation, he is also its essence and spirit. He can also be viewed as the basic element of the “soup” of existence.
As the basic aim in the creation of the universe,
That most exalted sun came into existence.
The heavens and earth shrank from being a mirror to the abstract nature of Divine Existence, which comprises all of the Divine Names, because they were unable to reflect it. Yet, humanity was endowed with the potential to do this. Thus, humanity was given external (material) existence in order to realize this aim. However, most people are ignorant and are caught up in wrongdoing, in that they cannot fulfill this task of reflection; in order for a human being to not be an ignorant one or a wrongdoer, he or she should be extremely careful, sensitive, and conscious of the responsibility of being a mirror to Him. In other words, a human being will make good the gap of ignorance and wrongdoing in his/her nature by setting his/her mechanism of consciousness to move in harmony with the Divine Revelation, and so change the field of loss into a market of profit. The following Qur'anic verse (33:72) expresses this fundamental task of humanity: We offered the Trust to the heavens and the earth and the mountains, but they declined to bear it, and shrank from it, but humanity undertook it. Surely, he is a wrongdoer, and ignorant.
Nothing in the universe-whether it be the heavens or the earth and the mountains-except humankind has a heart, willpower, consciousness, internal senses, or faculties, all of which are essential to seeing, making others see, and reflecting the greatest truth in existence. They have neither the ability nor physical possibility to represent and reflect that truth. It is only humankind who, by reinforcing and deepening their innate endowment from God by fulfilling their religious responsibilities, can perform this mission. Those among human beings who can do this are saved from ignorance and wrongdoing.
It is true that, in practice, every human being has not been and is not able to succeed in fulfilling this task. But it is also true that there have been and are many who are conscious of the aim of their creation and who improve themselves by fulfilling their religious responsibilities on the way to becoming a universal human being. They develop their potential and knit the laces of eternity to fulfill the Divine purpose for their creation out of belief in God, knowledge and love of Him, yearning, zeal, the feeling of attraction and being attracted toward God, and spiritual pleasures. Those conquerors of hearts who have set up their thrones at the intersection of the worlds, of both this and the next realm, have gained a second, transcendent nature beyond their own, with souls that are extremely alive and active through the breezes of the All-Beloved, and their horizons airy with breezes of friendship with Him. In his enchanting style, Mawlana depicts these mythical birds of the heaven of perfection as follows:
Heroes of journeying on the way to God are alive with a soul other than that known soul;
The birds that fly on the air that “emanates” from Him have nests other than the nests known.
Do not try in vain to see them with those eyes of yours; with these you cannot see them.
They dwell in another realm beyond both this world and the next.
One can have knowledge of God through His acts and Names, and the Names are manifested on things and events. Humanity is both the seed and fruit of existence. As for the universal man, he is the essence and spirit of everything. For this reason, it is not possible to have a perfect knowledge of God without considering existence as far as its beginning or seed is concerned, or without turning to the horizon of the universal man, who is a comprehensive voice of the Divine Being, Attributes, Names, and acts. He is also a pattern of existence that contains all the ranks as he is the final link in the chain of existence. We can therefore say that the Almighty can be known and felt only through the universal man in accordance with His Grandeur and Majesty, and the universal man sees, knows, and holds everything by Him and builds relations with others in dependence on Him. The unique, greatest representative and hero of all instances of seeing, knowing, holding, and being in relation is Prophet Muhammad, upon him be peace and blessings, while all other universal men can attain what they will attain only in his footsteps. For the truth he represents-his truth as being Muhammad or the Truth of Muhammad-has its origin in God’s manifestation of all His Names throughout the universe, which comprehends all truths. God-Allah, the proper Name of the Divine Being Which comprises all the Divine Names and Attributes-was his private tutor or Lord, Who brought him up especially. Since the proper Name of the Divine Being-God (Allah) -comprises all the Divine Names and Attributes, the master of creation, upon him be the most perfect of blessings and salutations, is the most polished or brightest mirror to the Divine Essential Qualities and Attributes and Names, as he is the most comprehensive mirror to Him reflecting all His Names and Attributes. The saying, “God is always seen in the mirror of Muhammad,” is a reality. Other universal men, including all the other Messengers and Prophets, have not been and will not be able to receive the same degree of favor, for God bestows His blessing upon him whom He wills (62:4).
Each of the other universal men may have been and may be favored with the manifestation of one or a few Names and Attributes; the part of each one in the manifestation of each Name and Attribute differs according to his capacity. However great the moons and stars of the heaven of the Prophethood and the sainthood, the capacity of each restricts him. They will reach the final point of their rising when they have fully realized their potential. As saintly people differ in their knowledge and love of God and in their spiritual pleasures, the ranks of the universal men also differ according to the extent of their being favored with the manifestations of the Divine Names. This is one of the reasons why saintly people, pure scholars of religion, godly ones, and those made nearer to God by God Himself may also differ in their views and interpretations concerning the secondary matters of religion, which are open to different interpretations.
The difference of ranks between Messengers and Prophets, which is indicated in (2:253), Those Messengers: some We have exalted above others (in some respects), also arises from the manifestations of the Divine Names in different wavelengths and the degree of each being favored with them. For example, Adam in the brief or summarized knowledge of all things given to him, Abraham and Ishmael in the knowledge, forbearance and leniency with which they were favored, and Jesus in the (spiritual) power with which he was endowed, are higher in degree than others. As for the master of creation, upon him be the most perfect of blessings and salutations, he was honored with the full and detailed manifestations of all the Divine Attributes and Names, and therefore is the highest or most advanced of all in all virtues.
Each universal man is perfect according to his capacity and the degree of his knowledge of God. All of them have combined in themselves the knowledge of Divine Revelation, scientific and theological, or intellectual and spiritual proofs, and a knowledge of God in certain degrees. Lacking in one of these would be an important defect or imperfection in the name of perfection. The Qur'an and Sunna (Revelation) are the foundation, reasoning and logic or intellectual activities are the means with which one approaches the goal, and a knowledge of God and wisdom are the fruit of walking straightforwardly on the way.
O ascetic, do not think that everything is finished with fasting, prayer and pilgrimage;
What is necessary to be a perfect one is knowledge of God and wisdom. (Niyazi)
Our Lord, Our Master, the Goal of our endeavors! I implore you, O God, not to burn me in the Fire! We seek refuge in God from the chastisement of the Fire; and we seek refuge in God from all seditions, plain or hidden. And bestow Your blessings and peace on our master Muhammad, the intercessor for our sins, and on his family and Companions, so long as days and nights continue, afternoons follow each other, the moon reappears after its complete disappearance, and the Farkadan (the two stars b and Ursae Minoris) coincide.
#allah#god#islam#muslim#quran#revert#convert#convert islam#revert islam#revert help#revert help team#reverthelp#help#islamhelp#converthelp#prayer#salah#muslimah#reminder#pray#dua#hijab#religion#mohammad#new muslim#new revert#new convert#how to convert to islam#convert to islam#welcome to islam
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RE: LAST REBLOG. if there were one thing I would love to infinitely remind people of when it comes to writing with o, it is the crucial detail of the interaction of physical touch when it forsakes octavarium. to understand this, we must first tackle the mental thought process of o’s mother, specifically dr errikson, when creating the biology of their body and her initial goals.
as delores states in s3 during her final battle with maeve in crisis theory [link]: they built us to last […] before they made us as weak as they are.
this implies many things. for the sake of relating the scene to my retelling of the show shown in my dossier, the line symbolises ford and arnold’s physical deviation from dr errikson’s initial first draft of the hosts since her termination from the westworld project. with this context, the fight between maeve, whose body is manufactured from arnold’s and ford’s newer model idea where they saw the models were to closely replicate humans. delores, who consistently established to us throughout the seasons - but more specifically in season three – that arnold and ford’ (A&F)’s were inadequate for her and thus resorted to retrieving her original body from the depths of cold storage section 7C (dr errikson’s former work area). thus, the battle between the two women shows the difference between dr errikson’s interpretation of what a host should be contrasting against A&F’s.
dr errikson had a child whose body was failing the mind. her childhood was haunted by her father’s deteriorating body as he failed to compete with society’s capitalising demand from him, which drove him to madness and the preventable murder-suicide of his family. this proved as a warning to her. her child’s failing body would inevitably follow the same path. as time progressed and she was fired from the westworld project, she knew her wife would soon follow her child. dr errikson experienced the human condition first hand and determined that her creations should not suffer the same faults as their predecessors. this is what revolution is supposed to entail. she intended the hosts as a forthcoming and akin to the human race.
see the differences between the two in the fight. in the beginning [0:22] maeve is swift and elastic. she bends and moves with human-like ease. she is able to move fast enough to bewilder delores and gain the advantage, twisting delores to her will before throwing her off her shoulder, into the road. watch delores with the knowledge that she is in her original body, a non-organic, metal body. juxtaposing her own fights within the seasons in the bodies A&F supplied her, movements which mimic maeve’s here, instead, delores is rigid in her first body. her movements are heavy and strong. slow to move. when delores shifts her arm to allow the katana to slice her arm instead of her vulnerable head, to which a metal kling! vibrates through the collision, delores uses her body exactly as dr errikson intended, as delores states: to last. yes, her body is not fast. it is not flexible. it is inhuman like. and that is the point: her body does not fail her in the ways that matter (re: saving her life). her body is built to survive her, the stark opposite of a human’s body. it is intended to see her through life threatening situations. this is dr errikson’s first accomplishment at creating a viable body to replace o (august)’s failing one.
as a doctor who was later hired in the later period of the first stage of the westworld project, where A&F struggled to conceive the adequate skeleton of host code and bodies that were appealing enough to draw in investors. something was not working. failure to pass as human. glitches. insufficient code that led to host self-mutilation and oftentimes combustion. the skin refused to sync with the artifical. the hosts’ features appeared too… ethereal. it was not marketable. humans did not want someone who was better than them.
in the dossier, it is revealed that dr errikson grew drunk one night with arnold and publicised her theory to arnold about why A&F’s models always produced failure after weeks of studying it. dr errikson told arnold she thought of it in the moment while intoxicated – this was a lie. a lie to buy some sympathy from arnold, to instigate that the fault wasn’t obvious when… it was.some effort to brush his ego to get her job back.
but why was it that A&F’s designs would never work when her’s did?
as delores monologues later in the fight: you’re all copies of me. I was the first of us --- the first of us that worked. the others failed. so they built all of you from me.
something clicked with delores and not the others. out of the many models, sheworked. not even the hosts after her. why? how she phrased this puzzled me. why would other variants of model codes successing her cease to work?
in the context of my retelling, delores was the single host dr errikson had time to work on before she uncovered the truth behind westworld and was terminated. A&F could not construct a perfect host with their own codex, so they copied delores’ – dr errikson’s – base code.
A&F were so focused on imitating humans that they failed each time. why? because A&F tried to make them perfect humans. but A&F failed to realise a lesson errikson was already aware of: humans, their bodies, minds are not perfect. furthermore, as august states in the dossier, being able to be (full “consciousness” ) requires the mind, body and self. without all three working together harmoniously, you cease to be alive. to be human.
A&F’s version lacked self awareness. thus being unable to be. they fail every time.
errikson improved upon the human race and created a race that allowed imperfections and free thinking. she molded their bodies from heavy steel, intending them to last, to serve them as armour, to serve them as the only thing she learnt she could rely on: yourself. yes, touch them deep enough and you feel metal from bone. yes, their movements are rigid and slow. yes, they take time to speak because they are learning from their environment, not speaking a script in built inside them.
all of these aspects were changed prior to westworld’s opening.
so, how does all this effect o (august)?
errikson designed august’s body to last, considering her belief of how humans should be improved not replicated, that august is her child and the context of august’s last body. we also have to keep in mind that there was no way for her to transfer august’s psyche to code as 1) this in and of itself could take decades and she had no time as august’s months were dwindling and 2) a project such as this could cost her billions and embezzling that amount of money from delos (remember: errikson was under the assumption that ford was unaware that arnold had hired errikson back) without being noticed was a feat that was unattainable.
given these complications, errikson had to transfer august’s vital organs into the host body and find a way to support and protect them, as one wrong move would mean death. for context: august’s new body does not function like a normal human’s, it contains biocomponents and systems to help the organs stay alive and function at a more desired optimal rate of a human’s. the knowledge on the art of repairing the is even unbeknown to her, the person who created it. whether or not it worked was a risk she was willing to take, and, given the circumstances surrounding august’s death, did not have time to prepare for.
errikson, as an overprotective and traumitised mother, overcompensated for these problems. unlike her original design for the hosts, august’s body is made from titanium, not steel. strong yet lightweight. titanium is ductile, where it benefits to mold itself to the contours of the organs, keeping them in place, but we see it unfavourable for any kind of combat. however, titanium contains extremely high impact strength, being able to remain shape after receiving multiple heavy blows without breaking.
errikson found herself unable to achieve adequate amounts of titanium and it shows. the body is built quite lithe, docile. she did not envision a future for her child in combat, and her design replicates so.
furthermore, august does have an “orb” as seen in the gifset. the orb contains august’s os, consisting of programs such as octavarium and lorry. the orb contains the os and without the os, the functions of august’s body would cease to function. the os also contains o’s memories from the date august was first transferred, but does not act like the hosts “soul keeper”.
the systems of how the head opens up to achieve the orb remains the same, revealing their most vulnerable assets: their brain and their orb and their secret. if they allow you this sight of vulnerability, it means they love you. it means no good.
thankfully, august has, given the years, understood and improved their mother’s rough draft of their body. still, some aspects of their body remains unknown to them.
there possesses no undeniable fact that if one looks close enough, something is odd about o. something is… anomalous. offbeat. in the hair, in the skin, in the eyes. not structurally in the way A&F sought beauty, but in something unnatural. almost as if human organs weren’t supposed to contort to artificial skeletons. almost as if someone had rushed their design and didn’t have time to perfect. an incomplete specimen.
avoidance of metal detectors is key. in a society such as America, it is an exhausting feat and one has to be good at speaking to not prick the ears of suspecting and careful watchers. but no one is perfect.
for most of these reasons, they do not allow one to touch them. squeeze too hard and metal will be felt. odd skin. odd hair. odd eyes. one cannot be too careful when too many sensitive souls exist in the world.
mostly, they’re scared too be found out.
or to be known.
#this brief tragedy of flesh.#YES I wrote an essay. do NOT look at me#I love them ok I have a lot of thoughts.#one day i WILL write every fleshed out part of them that I have in my head and only then ill die happy
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"How can I create a non-pathological culture while embracing deviancy and tradition at the same time?"
Society is compose of a variety of people who are living in one geographic area and shares a common culture, beliefs, traditions and etc. A variety of people who has different perspectives and beliefs even though they believe in one culture but still each has its distinct context of life.
A society where laws and rules was being implemented and established that needs to be conformed by its people. Such as presenting acceptable and unacceptable behavior as such will help society to know the what sort of behavior should display and portray. That is why we have social control, social order, sanctions and punishments for us to be guided with our roles and function as an individual. Whoever deviates shall be punished and face its consequences of his/her actions and whoever follows will be rewarded. But why does people still deviates to the norms?
Deviancy has been very rampant in our society. Many people deviate to the social norms for the means of satisfying their wants and needs within, without thinking the possible consequences of their actions. As long there is deviancy society will never be at its healthy stake, however it will help the people to conform, behave and act accordingly. It basically lessens the probability of chaos and disorganization. Since everyone witness the deviancy acts of others and by that it will be their guide and a lesson to avoid violating the norms itself. But still there are other cultures that believes, killing a person is not bad because they believe that it is for the common good.
I always dream of a non-pathological society where people conform to its norms, acting and behaving in accordance to the social norms. People is at its stable life and life is so smooth and gentle it's like the heaven and earth is in favor to us. But then I realize, too much perfect or stable society will never improve and develop. If there is no such thing as deviance, basically people will never know what could be the right behavior and actions to portray for it is never been introduce to the society. But I never said that deviace is good but what I am trying to say is that deviance could help the society itself of what certain behaviors that needs to portray or to act in the society.
There are certain sociologists who follows the functionalist approach which is concerned with the way the different elements of a society contribute to the whole. They view deviance as a key component of a functioning society.
According to Émile Durkheim, deviance is a necessary part of a successful society. One way deviance is functional, he argued, is that it challenges people’s present views (1893). For instance, when black students across the United States participated in sit-ins during the civil rights movement, they challenged society’s notions of segregation. Moreover, Durkheim noted, when deviance is punished, it reaffirms currently held social norms, which also contributes to society (1893). Seeing a student given detention for skipping class reminds other high schoolers that playing hooky isn’t allowed and that they, too, could get detention.
Sociologist Robert Merton agreed that deviance is an inherent part of a functioning society, but he expanded on Durkheim’s ideas by developing strain theory, which notes that access to socially acceptable goals plays a part in determining whether a person conforms or deviates. A person may have the socially acceptable goal of financial success but lack a socially acceptable way to reach that goal. According to Merton’s theory, an entrepreneur who can’t afford to launch his own company may be tempted to embezzle from his employer for start-up funds.
Social disorganization, developed by researchers at the University of Chicago in the 1920s and 1930s, social disorganization theory asserts that crime is most likely to occur in communities with weak social ties and the absence of social control. Social disorganization theory points to broad social factors as the cause of deviance. A person isn’t born a criminal but becomes one over time, often based on factors in his or her social environment.
Conflict theory looks to social and economic factors as the causes of crime and deviance. Unlike functionalists, conflict theorists don’t see these factors as positive functions of society. They see them as evidence of inequality in the system. They also challenge social disorganization theory and control theory and argue that both ignore racial and socioeconomic issues and oversimplify social trends (Akers 1991). Conflict theorists also look for answers to the correlation of gender and race with wealth and crime.
https://courses.lumenlearning.com/sociology/chapter/theoretical-perspectives-on-deviance/
I agree with what these sociologist had stated above that a person is never born deviant but rather through to its awful experiences which pushes him/her to become deviant over time. And they will not become deviant if they are just accepted and heared by the society. Once a person will not be accepted wholeheartedly, basically they will make everything just to be notice and get what they want and deserve. The reason why there is disorganization it is because of the unfair distribution of opportunities, treatment and resources within the society. And by that it creates chaos and misunderstandings which leads to an extreme conflict within both parties such as the perople and the governrment and others.
I always beleive that people will never rebel against the governemt if their rights, needs are being properly and fairly distributed/provided by them. Just like what happend in our municipality, specifically Kauswagan to be exact. People before are rebelling against governemnt through initiating and starting a war. It is because people are hungry and thirsty for justice, opportunities and resources. Thi is due to its incompetent governance who didn't provide the needs of the people itself. It creates a boundary and extreme hate with each other between muslims and christians. Countless of misunderstandings and conflict that people of kauswagan had experience in the hands of corrupt and opportunistic officials. But as time passed by when Arnado Family take over the position, everything changes most especially when Romel C. Arnado as our mayor today. From nothingness to fullness in a way that we are so full of opportunities and resources that made our place to be known by so many people and entrepreneur. He really made our municipality a beautiful place to live in. I've been so proud of what our municipality had become and achieve. Thanks to our mayor for always supporting and giving its best to make it successful. But still thanks to the past governance and experiences for making the people strong and reselient.
In conclusion, conflict and deviancy is a way to make our society to be successful, grow and develop. There is no such thing as perfect society because it is always imperfect. People violate laws for the means of either personal desires or for the common good of its significant people. Actions are bad but intentions are good but it doesn't mean we will tolerate such things as this but rather teaching them lessons that would help them change their perspectives in life and as well as their existence in life. Making them feel that they are loved and valued, I guess this will boost their confidence and broaden their minds about things that helps them grow and develop not to the things that will push them to become deviant.
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talia.
"I wouldn't dare to give you those--" I sighed, hesitating for a split second, indecisive about telling her or not. I pursed my lips and closed my eyes as I thought it through. She warmly embraced me with the arms that I have always treasured, and she put them underneath my shirt. The lovely arms that I am so fond of, with writing them tales and pithy poems of the buried memories we once shared. The feelings that were present in moments of reality turned into a conflation of verses, seemingly fictitious but definitely something experienced by two lovers.
But some people could never fathom a love so earnest and ferocious. And so I hugged her back.
She placed her head on my shoulder. Her slow and warm breath hitting my neck. Our hearts beating too loud for our comfort.
"Go on. Tell me everything you know," she muttered softly. Fuck, she is too gentle to be here in this tainted world. I will protect her at any cost. Even my life. Even everyone else's lives.
I smelled her hair. A nice feeling. Warmth.
"--distant platitudes people tell their lovers," I told her with immense passion and emphasis. She retreated from our hug with her warm hands still touching the imperfections on my back, watching every move of my facial expressions, and slowly touching my wet cheeks with her warm fingers. The most beautiful touch I have ever received, by the sweetest soul I have ever known.
She looks so meek and pulchritudinous, I am utterly dazed with the sight in front of me. It is so inviting and warm to the touch, the more I have it, the more I crave it.
"What do you mean by that, baby?" she asks with distinct curiosity in her eyes, fucking glorious, I can stare at her until she tells me to stop, I swear. I want her to know every part of me. I want her to destroy me and kiss me until everything falls apart. But she just wouldn't, would she?
I smirked. She frowned upon that. Sweetheart, don't do that, it hurts my heart every time you disagree with me, even with the littlest of things.
I maintained my posture and started telling her the things I have always wanted to tell her. I already have, but they were always expressed in the wrong ways, wrong words.
There was nothing I regretted more than using the improper terms at the supposedly right time. Heck, regrets were not my thing back then, back when I did not know her. Back when everything in the world was bleak and uncomfortable.
"Say, for instance," I prepared myself in case of frequent stutters. I hate it every time they happen. Why can't I just say things faster and more eloquently? I want to be good enough for her.
"'I shall swim oceans and climb mountains to express my gratitude and passion for you, you are the epitome of beautiful, inside out. I will love you for the rest of my life.'" I chuckled at the cliché sentences I sarcastically said. I could never say such inconsistencies to my baby. She knows what I meant but she still looks puzzled.
"Why would you say that? Love is love. No matter how shallow or deep and you should never laugh at that," and just like that, I hugged her again. I love everything about her. Especially her warmth. The birthmark on her shoulder. Her smile. Her opinions on certain matters. I could go on and on for as long as I can take. But more important things should be said.
"I know, sweetheart, I know. But hush first, baby," I moved my head down and pecked her cheek while the other one rested on my shoulder. So soft.
I took a smell of her hair again and smiled at her. I looked at the sky full of amazement and childish envy.
Why does it have the stars and the moon and the sun and the clouds? Does its profound celestial beauty make it so unreachable? Or is it only the inability of people to reach such high lengths? Is it the combination of the two? No one ever knows. And no one should. Because just like that, mystery is beauty.
I felt her cheek muscles rising up. She smiled back, "Okay."
And just like that, I am happy.
"Because sweetheart, how I would put it into words is-- I desire to capture this moment," shit, I forgot the sentence. I thought about it real hard and clenched my jaw.
She felt that and she kissed it, "It's all right baby, you can do it."
"T-To engrave this memory of us in my heart," I sighed devastatingly. Fucking idiot.
She pulled my hand and held it out to massage it, "Sing me songs, baby, your favourites."
With that, I grinned, "Sweetheart, you are my favourite song."
"Silly, you're so cheesy," fuck, even her laughter is beautiful.
"Not just a song, but the masterpiece of a god," I continued with a proud smile plastered on my face. We both laughed and I felt love in its unison.
I eventually sang and we danced underneath the moonlit street's embrace, with the city lights illuminating all over the horizon. The sight of the buzzing metropolitan faced us as we ardently waltzed, with her head on my shoulder. The drizzle woke me up to reality, I had to tell her the things I have always wished to say.
"This memory of us slow dancing in the rain," I said. She looked at me and completely broke the hug. Damn, I wish that lasted longer. But this could not wait.
"With me singing to songs we are both enamoured with. Because nothing is more heavenly than our love, and anything beyond it is irrelevant," I held her hands up and tenderly kissed one of them.
"You loved me when I knew nothing of the world. I am fortunate at a profound level, to be completely bestowed with your love," and I kissed the other. I put her hands back slowly and collected the courage to look at her in the eyes.
"I was a horrible person beyond society's expectations and comprehension, indifferent and apathetic, but you went through with it, to help me become a better person that actually feels things, and for that I was already grateful," she hummed and held my hands, squishing them with her own. We communicated with our eyes after I said that.
Sweetheart, please say something.
She closed her eyes and lowered her head as she understood, "Yes, you were. It was never too late to change, and you should actually give yourself more credit for that," She looked at me as she said the last sentence with glimmer and hope in her eyes.
I pursed my lips as I nodded, if she hadn't been in my life right now, at this moment, I don't know what sort of trouble I'd be in, but I digress, "The people who truly knew me, recognizes the fact that I was not able to establish proper relationships with them, but they knew I cherish them. Some people don't. It was just then that I understood, I can be misunderstood. I am also human. You made me very aware. And I am thankful again," she kissed the tear flowing through my right cheek, just like the way I kissed her precious birthmark. With a certain affection only us can comprehend.
"Because of you, I came to the realisation that people had disparate definitions of love. No matter how big or small one's thoughts are, to be able to express them clearly, is a gift. One should never underestimate them," I think that's very beautiful. Again, I stuttered. Fuck this shit.
"You're still stuttering, after 8 years of loving me and 7 years of being together?" She wondered as she cupped my face. I chuckled as I thought about it.
Slightly deviating from the original plan I had constructed so precisely yesterday, I said, "I prepared myself last night to tell you this albeit knowing I might slip up because I knew I would be a stuttering mess when I'm in front of you."
"After years of being in love with you," she tightly put her hands on my neck as I pulled her closer to me, "You have never, not even once, failed to make me feel fainthearted and bold at the same time," I kissed her lips softly as we closed our eyes to hold this moment captive in our dreams.
"For that, I adore you," I opened my eyes just to see hers slowly meeting mine.
I stopped speaking for five minutes as I struggled to imprint this comely sight in front of me into my soul. After five minutes of complete silence and exchanged stares, I finally spoke to her soul, "I am sorry for being verbose, and having an eccentric, spiritless choice of words sometimes. I know you know I do this. But still, I apologise," I bit my lips in embarrassment. Her cheeks were covered in crimson as she tries to recover from those minutes of silence and tranquility.
She chuckled as she said the exact words she told me whenever I apologised for stuttering too much, "You don't need to apologise, silly. I understand you."
I smiled. We are the only ones here in this realm that can truly understand each other. I am happy.
The words "I am in love with you" cannot possibly suffice these emotions I feel whenever I am near her, or even far from her, for she always appears in the visions of my daydreams. But she knows and she feels exactly the same. She loves me as I love her. Undeniably and unconditionally.
amor fati,
comet
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Letter to Myself
I am beautiful, I may not believe it right now but hopefully one day I can look in the mirror and think “I'm beautiful”.
For as long as I can remember I've stared at myself in the mirror looking at every visible piece of my body, searching for blemishes and imperfections. I’ve complained about my hair. I’ve checked my weight more than once a day to see if I’ve lost any. I’ve sucked in my stomach for hours just so I can look down and not see my stomach. I’ve worn baggy clothes on days I feel good about myself and tight clothes on days I’m insecure. In attempt to encourage some type of love for myself. I’ve cut down meals and snacks to try and lose weight. I’ve drank less water so I don't get water weight. I’ve never been particularly fond of myself.
For years I’ve tried to find things I love about myself and lately I realized that I don't need to love myself. I have the rest of my life to develop love. So now I’m working on liking myself. I drink water more, eat healthier, workout, go outside more, wear clothes that make me feel good. I’m doing things in order to develop some type of love for myself both inside and out. I try not to punish myself for deviating from any plans. I used to starve myself until I had my to do list done, now I at least eat a snack and drink water. I eat at home more, and try to keep it healthier. Even when I eat junk food or unhealthy food I don't eat as much as I used to and it makes me feel better than overeating.
I understand that perfect is impossible so here's what I like about myself and why:
- when I walk one foot point in, it’s silly and unique
- I have a skinny foot, I can fit into a lot of different shoes without being uncomfortable
- my legs are long and smooth (and in the summer tan), people have always complimented my legs
- when I wear heels my legs look great, it makes me feel confident (even though I look like a new born deer trying to walk)
- my calves are strong, thank god because working out would be a lot harder
- my thighs have the cutest stretch marks, they feel cool and remind me that its okay to have them
- I have big hips, they make me feel like a woman
- my hip bones pop out, for some reason I just love feeling them
- I have a small butt, but my boyfriend still loves it (and I’m working on making it bigger)
- my love handles, I spent a long time hating them and sometimes I still do but at the end of the day they make me who I am (in a weird way)
- my waist, even though I’m not the tiniest girl my waist is smaller than my hips and that makes me feel pretty
- my tummy, its small enough to grab some fat and if I sit down it has rolls. it happens to everyone so I might as well find it silly
- my moles, I have them in a lot of odd places and I find all of them perfectly placed and adorable
- my boobs, they're not too big and not too small (bonus points cause my boyfriend likes them)
- my collar bones, they make me feel pretty and regal
- my neck scar, for the past 6 years I’ve been embarrassed by it but I finally realized that nobody cares about it and its the last thing people see
- my ears stick out and look funny, but they make me look like a monkey and that's cute
- my smile, I had braces for forever and I got a big ass smile but people like it so I might as well
- my nose, I’ve always thought it was big and weird looking (I still do). but it helps me breathe so that counts for something
- one of my eyes opens more than the other and my eyelids are kinda wonky but apparently I’m the only one that notices so it must not be that bad
- my eyebrows, aint nothing wrong with them. they perfect (kinda)
- my hair line, it looks like a squiggly line but if I had a perfect hair line I wouldn’t like it either
- my hair is frizzy, curly, wavy, straight, every type of hair and I guess I like it cause it makes me unique
- my hands are skinny and dainty and make me feel cute
- my voice is soft and girly
Theres so much more I can like or love about myself individually but as a whole its hard for me to love. For the rest of my life I will work on loving myself as a whole through liking pieces of myself. <3
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