Put Yourself In the Story

morgynleri:

For those who said they’d read, and offered encouraging words.

@norcumi @theotherguysride @peachesandscream56 @nyxserpent @kediil-eperu @booksaresacredspew

Untitled

Part 1 | Part 2 | more to come?

Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
AU: NOS
Word Count: 3506
Characters: Me, Odo, Julian Bashir

Content Notes: There are parts of this that aren’t written from my POV, but anything where I am present is. This is a me who is unmedicated, at the end of a long, stressful day, at a point where my hormones are fucking with my brain chemistry. (See the end for more notes, as I didn’t want to get very long-winded here.)

Just a fan, taking a step from one world to another, and having a very hard time coping with that.

This is not where I was a moment before. A step before. I feel a little lighter, though the unwanted desire to fling flaming rocks at the planet still eats at the back of my mind. It’s also a little brighter here, even with ambient lights turned low. They’re not as dim as starlight.

I recognize where I am, though it can’t be real. It can’t be real, cannot be what I think it is, just an unexpected break with reality. A hallucination, though I’ve never had any this immersive before, and have no idea what could have caused it.

I turn in place, looking all around me, trying to find some break in the illusion, something I can use to break free of this. It still looks as real and solid and perfect as it had before. The walkways above, the great oval windows that looked out on blackness scattered with stars, the Replimat and Quark’s, the security office, the directory now behind me.

Keep reading

Reblogging because I’m going to post the third part shortly.

maylovelies:

The episodes where we learn more about garak, bashir and odo’s relationships with their mentors are great and all, but I hate how the writers made them forgive,or make up with their abusers.

Garak and Tain made up. He should have left Tain in mental agony on his death bed. Told him what a failure he and the Obsidian Order were, but told Tain about how he himself found friends and a new family.

Bashir should’ve been “see ya later” to his abelist father as he was sentenced to jail. What Mr. Bashir did was not Julian’s fault and to make him feel guilty that he could a.) get his parents arrested and b.)that he did “get” his father arrested is shitty. He should have cut him off. (same with his mom?? like his mom sat there and let that happen!!)

And Odo…Odo making up with Dr. Mora, a man who abused him until he had no choice to turn is just??

If the narrative isn’t gonna make Kira forgive Dukat (which I’m glad she didnt forgive him, i’m not complaining bcs if she did forgive/befriend dukat i would’ve had a lot more to rant about) , then why make these three forgive people who were directly responsible for their lives. Or if not forgive, make up?

Like, Garak is freaking middle aged and still lived half his life in guilt wanting to please a man who abused him?? At least Odo and Bashir outwardly hated their folks, Garak was the worst still stuck on a man who wanted to kill him since he was a baby–and the narrative made them make up to some extent.

I really don’t like the whole “be the better person” or “learn to forgive. it makes you feel better” trope when it comes to abuse and like, all three of these men were abused in some way and still got off on some good footing with their abusers….

^^^^

THIS.

for the 6 characters: Dukat, Keiko O’Brien, Julian Bashir, Odo, Weyoun, Kira Nerys

For this meme.

Push off a cliff: Weyoun
Kiss: Keiko O’Brien (on the cheek)
Marry: Odo (because aro-ace, and it would give both of us a way to make anyone who asks shut up about relationships without having to worry about romance or sex)
Set on Fire: Dukat
Wrap a Blanket around: Kira Nerys (because she deserves the comfort of someone just willing to offer warmth and a shoulder to lean on)
Be Roommates with: Julian Bashir (just please give me good sound proofing for bedrooms, I do not want to know when he’s entertaining over night)

sanerontheinside
replied to your post “Oh, yay, a Garak episode! Oh fuck, that’s right, this is the…”

omg THAT ONE. WHERE GARAK NEARLY WIPES OUT THE WHOLE AWAY TEAM. YAY FOR EFFICIENT CARDASSIAN SPY/ASSASSINS THO AMIRITE?

😀 Yes, that one. And oh, do I love the glimpse of Garak stripped of the masks, the politely lethal and very, very dangerous Obsidian Order agent. Just. *hums happily*

judayre
replied to your post “Two episodes with the large part at the center skipped because a lot…”

One reason I ship Odo with Lwaxana is that she loves that he’s a shapeshifter and makes him excited to be him

*nods* Yes. Granted, my reason for shipping them is a lot because she doesn’t push him for anything he doesn’t express an active and enthusiastic wish for, not after the intial meeting. Just. She wants him to be him, and to be the best him he can be. No expectations of anything else.

Two episodes with the large part at the center skipped because a lot of nope, and a few other episodes later, and oh look, it’s another episode of “but everyone wants romance and/or sex, because if they don’t, they’re broken”.

*thumps head on desk* Damnit.

(Also, no matter what the lines are, or the facial expressions, there’s something missing in the interactions between them. Like Odo is going through the motions of something that he understands from observation, but doesn’t actually feel.)

Skipping the next episode, because I do not need to be screaming angry things at the screen about insisting that obviously everyone has sexual desire, because no such thing as asexual people could possibly exist, even among beings who aren’t even humanoid, even a character who has read as aro-ace since the beginning of the show.

DS9 Meta

So, just finished watching the episode where Odo and Lwaxana get married, and I’m thinking about it, and comparing my reaction with my reaction to the episode I refused to finish last night. Which was the one where Kira and Shakaar get together, and at the point I stopped before I started the lots of internal screaming, Odo was about to fuck up at his job because he’s distracted by them, their closeness, and possibly his jealousy over some aspect of it.

I get far more cranky over that episode than the one where he passionately defends his love for Lwaxana and desire to marry her, and not just because it’s the cliche of the love triangle. To the point of, as I said, internal screaming. (Only not external screaming because I tend to prefer to be a physically quiet person. People tend to underestimate me that way.)

So, the question becomes why?

My usual interpretation of Odo is an aro-ace character who is randomly forced into this unnatural romance plot with Kira, and there’s at least one episode he apparently is interested in sex, and I made faces at that. Because all of those bits tend to read as “everyone must be interested in romance and/or sex, it’s unnatural and wrong not to want it”.

If I try to read it as something in universe? Odo is a neurodivergent aro-ace who is trying to mimic the social cues of romance that he sees around him in an attempt to better fit in. And sometimes that’s enough to be able to watch the episode I did not finish last night, because I can read it as “Odo is distracted by attempting to observe how romance works between (Bajoran) humanoids”, if only just. It keeps the screaming to a dull roar and I can make it through the episode, and the next one I watch can be the calming down episode.

It still doesn’t really make sense, because Odo doesn’t let his need to observe humanoid behavior interfere in doing his job, and yet, suddenly, because Kira is involved, he fails to do his job to his usual standard, and they’re put in danger because of it.

So. Yeah. Lots of screaming.

And yet, Odo getting married to Lwaxana doesn’t make me scream, and it’s not because Odo and Lwaxana have any more chemistry than Odo and Kira.

I think, honestly, it’s because his entire speech reads as someone who has found a soulmate. A platonic soul mate who made an effort to understand him. Who has a lot of her own defenses to hide who she is, and understands the need to apppear different from who a person actually is. And he does love her for it, dearly. But it’s not romantic love.

And their marriage is for her sake. He’s doing this to protect her reproductive rights as her culture understands them. Treating her as a person whose opinions and desires matter, rather than an object to be owned (as the person she’s married to at the beginning of the episode has been treating her).

That she then makes the decision to go back home at the end, to give Odo the room to be himself, and not have her unrequited romantic love for him potentially ruin their friendship, just. It makes me so happy. She is someone who is very much interested in romance and sex who doesn’t have any interest in changing her aro-ace partner. Who doesn’t treat Odo as broken or unnatural for having no desire for either romance or sex.

Yes, it takes her a while to understand it, but she makes the effort where, as far as I can tell, no one else actually does. Quark seems to be the only person who goes out of his way to imply that Odo’s lack of sexual or romantic interest is unnatural, but no one makes any effort to say “yeah, it’s normal, there are humanoids like that too”, either.

Just. I really appreciate the acting in the episode that took what could have been something written as romantic and turned it into a platonic awesomeness without taking away the love of it.

Could there be cute (nonsexual) Odo/Lwaxana? Possibly with her baby from “The Muse”?

writertobridge:

Of course!

I will add that this is my first time writing Lwaxana Troi into any of my stories. It’s a shame. I rather like her, all things considered. The episodes she was in were some of my favorites in TNG.

This is a short piece. Only 830 words. I hope that’s okay.

Meeting Once More

Odo made his second round through the promenade. The familiar sounds of footsteps and chatter echoed about the metal ring and offered him a comfortable contentment that was lost to his more frayed companions. War was unpredictable. Even Odo felt lost at times as he heard the loss reports and considered his place in the quadrant, even the universe. But for the moment, the tension of war tapered away into the familiar and life, for the moment, was uniform. Just as he liked it.

He peered into the infirmary. Doctor Bashir and the familiar arrangement of nurses resided there. All of them went about their menial medical work, their jobs for the day unaffected by the war beyond the station. Their minds were another story.

Odo passed without entering and started to peer at other areas – store fronts, the replimat, the Bajoran temple, all of which reaffirmed the normality of the station. Perhaps this would be a normal day. Perhaps it would invite Quark to meddle. Perhaps it would reflect the early days, where the worst the quadrant had to offer was small crimes and no casualties. Perhaps–

“Odo!”

Keep reading

guljerry:

sketchdump

Put Yourself In the Story

For those who said they’d read, and offered encouraging words.

@norcumi @theotherguysride @peachesandscream56 @nyxserpent @the-vagabond-tabby @booksaresacredspew

Untitled

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | more to come?

Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
AU: NOS
Word Count: 3506
Characters: Me, Odo, Julian Bashir

Content Notes: There are parts of this that aren’t written from my POV, but anything where I am present is. This is a me who is unmedicated, at the end of a long, stressful day, at a point where my hormones are fucking with my brain chemistry. (See the end for more notes, as I didn’t want to get very long-winded here.)

Just a fan, taking a step from one world to another, and having a very hard time coping with that.

This is not where I was a moment before. A step before. I feel a little lighter, though the unwanted desire to fling flaming rocks at the planet still eats at the back of my mind. It’s also a little brighter here, even with ambient lights turned low. They’re not as dim as starlight.

I recognize where I am, though it can’t be real. It can’t be real, cannot be what I think it is, just an unexpected break with reality. A hallucination, though I’ve never had any this immersive before, and have no idea what could have caused it.

I turn in place, looking all around me, trying to find some break in the illusion, something I can use to break free of this. It still looks as real and solid and perfect as it had before. The walkways above, the great oval windows that looked out on blackness scattered with stars, the Replimat and Quark’s, the security office, the directory now behind me.

Taking another step doesn’t dispel the illusion, doesn’t feel like I’m hiking up the hill that should be rising in front of me. Each step makes it all feel more real, each familiar thing passed. There, Garak’s shop, with clothing in the windows that looks only a little like the fashions of the show. An open space, the Klingon restaurant. Other places that aren’t very familiar until the doors of the infirmary come into view, and past them, the entrance to the Bajoran Temple.

“Can I help you?”

The gruff voice and nearly flat tone make me startle, nearly tripping over my own feet as I turn, planting my stick firmly to keep from falling over. I lean against it as I try to slow my breathing, and racing heart.

I want to say something dry, something wry and maybe a little amused, but all I can get out is a a faint keen, feeling the burn of tears trying to form. I’m lost in what could be a dream or a nightmare, far from home in time and space, without any idea how I got here or how to get home. It’s a wonder I hadn’t sat down and had a quiet meltdown already.

Odo is still standing there, another little bit more to make this seem more real and less a hallucination. Watching me with an expression that reads to me as disapproval and irritation, though I don’t know if I’d be able to read him any other way. It’s hard enough to read humans when they’re not familiar and not obviously in a good mood.

It doesn’t help, and I know I’m losing words, losing the ability to be verbal, and that’s not going to make this any easier.

All I can do is shake my head, trying not to whimper or fall down. If I go down in the middle of the floor, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to get back up, or ask for help to get back up.

“The Promenade is closed, ma’am. You need to return to your quarters.” Odo’s voice holds a note that I can’t read any better than his face. Perhaps uncertain? Or upset.

All I can do is let out a small laugh that sounds shaky and almost a sob to my ears, tightening my grip on my stick until it’s painful. Trying to keep from sobbing in frustration in the middle of the Promenade. The Promenade. Deep Space Nine. A place that is dismantled and sold-off or destroyed sets, and seven seasons of filmed episodes, and whatever other footage is out there. Drawings and stills and schematics, but not real. Not real.

I’m just aware enough to know I am not going to stay on my feet, dropping clumsily to the floor with barely enough grace to keep my backpack and the contents of it from taking the brunt of the impact. There’s movement, and I shrink away from it, scrambling to avoid being touched at all. This is not someone I know, no matter how well I know my own muses, because this isn’t supposed to be real.

“Odo to Doctor Bashir. Could you come down to the Promenade?”

At least it’s Julian, and not more security. Even if I’m not sure I will deal any better with him than I am able to deal with Odo. This is not supposed to be real, and I want to go home.

I scrabble at the buckle for the strap keeping my backpack close, letting my stick clatter to the floor. Struggling to get the straps off. Dragging it around so I can get it open. I still have my bear, and even if everything else that I would hug to me is still back home, I have my bear. Curling up around him, and burying my face in the fur at the back of his head, fingers tightly curled around his arms so he’s harder to take from me.

There’s more talk in the background, Odo and Julian, but I can’t process the words. All I can do is curl one leg around my backpack to be sure it stays with me, and fold myself around my bear, and try to breathe. Count of four in, hold for seven, eight out, hold for two. Can’t breathe in on the heels of breathing out, or I lose the count.

Near-silence, broken only by the background hum of environmental systems and power relays, engulfs the Promenade. I know Odo can’t have gone anywhere, but I’m glad he’s not trying to get close to me again. Letting me try to calm myself, while waiting for Julian to come, with whatever futuristic miracle he might have.

A giggle escapes me, though I feel more like screaming. It’s better to laugh, even if it’s more than a little hysterical, than to cry or scream. Odd looks are better than a sore throat or dehydration and a headache.

I don’t know how long it is before another sound intrudes, a whirring sound that is apparently universal to lifts, even turbolifts. The light tread of someone approaching, and Odo speaking again. I don’t bother to look up, trying to keep breathing in the pattern that’s supposed to help soothe. Sometimes even does. It’s not working as well as I like, though at least it eases the deep hollow ache of stress.

“Miss?”

It’s Julian speaking, careful and slow, making assumptions based on what little information he has.

All I can do is shake my head, flinching when I hear him crouching down nearby, feel the movement of air on the far side of what feels like too-thin linen. Too much, with brain weasels screaming in circles in my head. I can hear Julian shift, never making contact, and I turn my head just enough to give him a brief smile.

I still can’t find words. Words, that in text have rarely let me down, even when I’m fumbling for the right letters, the meaning I know I can put together if I have the right tools. But that involves taking out something to write on, and that means letting go of my bear, and I can’t do that right now, I can’t, he’s the one piece of home and comfort I have left.

“Breathe, miss.” Julian is kneeling on the floor just inside of arm’s reach, giving me space, while still being able to do something if everything goes haywire.

I shake my head again, even as I try to get my breathing pattern back. I’d let it go. Damnit.

“Ma’am?” Julian is watching my face, as much of it as he can see, when I still have it half-pressed against my bear. Still making assumptions, and I shake my head again. “Sir?”

Again, though that’s a little more gratifying than the first attempt. I don’t know if there’s anything to address someone that doesn’t have a gender in this future. If the mess of other things lost gender-neutral along the way.

“Can you tell me your name?”

I open my mouth, hoping to get words out this time, and all I can manage is an unhappy squeak, and to shake my head again, grimacing with frustration. I have to let go of my bear with one hand, holding up a finger to tell him to wait while I pull my notebook out of my backpack, and a pen with it.

Even if I can’t get my voice to cooperate with me, I can at least write.

Julian is watching as I write, reading it upside down, and once I have my name written, he smiles. “Morgyn Leri?”

I nod, flipping the pen so I’m holding in my fist instead, clicking it just to hear the familiar noise, to feel the resistance of it under my thumb. Stimming, because what else can I do? At least this helps some.

“Do you think you can get up?” Julian is watching my face, watching my expression.

I snort, shaking my head. Not without help, I can’t, and I’m not sure I’m ready to try, either. Not yet. The letters are sharp and spikey, almost light as I try to write quickly.

“You can’t stay on the Promenade.” That is definitely irritation in Odo’s voice, and I draw a sharp breath, tensing, and tighten my grip on my pen. It might not do me any good, but that never stops the brain weasels screaming that there is danger and I need something to defend myself. And the pen is already in my hand, while the hair forks require movement that can be seen.

“They’re not in the way, and I am right here to provide assistance as needed and requested.” Julian looks up at Odo, steady and patient, but not willing to let a patient be bullied into action too quickly. “There are still hours before even the shop owners are up.”

It’s nice, and embarrassing at the same time. I’m in the way, always in the way or doing something wrong, and I know that’s not true, know that’s just the anxiety telling lies. It’s still screaming that at me, though, and Odo’s irritation is not helping.

I turn my head, pressing my face back into my bear, counting seconds as I breathe, hyper-aware of both Odo and Julian, and knowing just how much everything is going to hurt later. Too tense, too stressed. Overload of weirdness after a long and difficult day, with my brain chemistry already playing merry hell with my mood.

“When you’re ready.” Julian hasn’t moved, and he’s patient, waiting for me to look again, and giving me a smile that I think is encouraging.

How long it takes for me to get to the point I’m not hiding behind my bear entirely, I don’t know. I’m not sure it matters. Odo has left, returning to the security office or his quarters or his rounds, I don’t know and I don’t care. It makes it easier to calm down.

I keep my bear in my lap as I put my notebook back in my backpack, zipping things shut again so I can put it back on. Looping the harness I’ve given my bear around my hand before I look over at Julian, trying to convince myself that yes, I can trust him to help me up, that he will if I just ask. Even if asking isn’t words. I know what he was like in the show, there’s no reason to believe he’d be any different in person.

When I hold out my hand, Julian gets up, and takes it, bracing himself as I use him to pull myself to my feet, rather than letting him pull me up.

“I’m going to take you to the infirmary, all right? Just to make sure there’s nothing wrong.”

I snort, knowing there’s more than one thing that’s less than ideal that I’m sure his tricorder could find, though none of it is anything that could lead to this being real. That a character out of a show could feel so solid when helping me up, and not look the age his actor is now.

“Here.” Julian had picked up my stick while I was staring into space, and holds it out to me. “I assume this is yours?”

Nodding, I take the stick back, letting him lead the way to the infirmary. It’s easier to move here, but that doesn’t stop things from hurting, like they always do, and more so after I’d dropped to the floor like I had earlier. That makes it simpler to let Julian think I don’t know where the infirmary is, where too many things are for someone who isn’t going to show up on anyone’s records.

It’s brighter in the infirmary, and I wince, squeezing my eyes shut a moment as I wait for the sharp bloom of pain to recede. The light dims, instead, and I open my eyes to see Julian watching me, a small, kind smile on his face.

“There are residents on the station who prefer lower light levels, too.”

I’m surprised when he lowers the exam table, enough that I can easily sit on it.

“I need to move your things for a moment; I’ll put them where you can see them, but I don’t want them to get in the way while I make sure you’re healthy, all right?”

“Not Big Bear.” I am glad I can get words out now, though I don’t know how well I’ll string them together for a while yet. Simple answers to question, that I can do, though.

I have to stand up again to shed my cloak, but once it’s with my backpack and stick, and I’m settled on the exam table, the next… hour? However long it is. It goes easily enough. Only a brief interruption for Julian to tell Sisko he has everything under control, and that it would be better to wait until morning for anyone else to ask me questions.

“Do you know how you arrived on the station?” Julian is frowning at his tricorder, at whatever results the machine gave him.

“I was walking home, then I was here.” I curl a little more around my bear, counting time for breathing again. “Don’t know what happened between.”

Julian closes his tricorder, smiling a moment. So many smiles, most of them trying to be reassuring, comforting. “I’m sure Dax will be able to figure it out.” He pauses for a moment. “Where is home?”

“Earth. United States. 2017. A different universe.” If they know that, then maybe it will help them find a way to get me home.

“I see.” Julian sets his tricorder down as he settles into the chair next to the computer. “Was there anything that you remember before or after you arrived?”

I shake my head, hugging my bear tighter. I want to ask what year it is here, maybe to figure out when I arrived on the station. What has happened, what is yet to happen. What might change because I remember things from the show that have yet to come. So many things.

“We’ll find a way to get you home.” Julian leans forward in his seat, though he doesn’t reach out, doesn’t try to touch. Remembering that I’d flinched away before, and not risking it again. “And until then, you’ll be safe on the station. Well, as much as anyone is safe here, with the possibility of war.”

“Dominion.” I can see his eyes widen a moment. “Dominion War.”

“No one’s named it yet. It hasn’t even happened yet.” Julian frowns, watching me intently. “Why do you call it the Dominion War?”

“They’re the aggressors.” I fiddle with the edge of my bear’s shirt, rolling the cotton between my fingers. “Took you.”

“How do you know that?” Julian’s tone is more curiosity than anything, and I still flinch at the thought of accusation. Of suspicion and uncertainty.

“Saw it.” I lean forward, tightening my grip on my bear again, burying my face in the back of his head.

“Like a vision? From an Orb?” Julian doesn’t sound like he’s moved, and he’s still curious, trying to figure it out. Figure out the puzzle.

I shake my head, and turn to look at him with one eye a moment. “Backpack.”

“You want your bag?”

I nod, and after a moment, Julian gets up, and brings it to me. I don’t have all the episodes of the show on my laptop, but hopefully the ones I have are enough.

“Here. This.” I open the first of the episodes, turning my laptop so he could see the screen. Watch his face as he sees something that might be past – probably is past, by the uniform – unfold on the screen.

“This is how you saw it.” Julian looks at me a moment before he looks back at my laptop. “How much did you get to see?”

“The whole war. Two years. Soon.” I bat his hands away when he reaches for the laptop, and pause the episode before going for one of the later ones. Not during the war, but I don’t know if the episode shows past or future or perhaps the present. He’s Julian, though, not the Changeling, I’m sure of it, and more so when a pained expression crosses his face at the opening of the episode.

“How far does this go?” Julian’s shoulders drop a little when I close the program and the laptop. “You said you saw two years of war.”

“Seven seasons, this is the fifth. War begins at the end.” Begins with mines and losing the station for months. Leaving too many people behind. “Don’t have all the episodes. Just some.”

The episodes with Garak, in the last two seasons. I’m not sure I want to admit to that being the reason for having those in particular. Don’t know how they’d take it. How creepy Garak might find it. But they’re also episodes which give a good look at what happens, and maybe they’ll be enough to change some things. Save Ziyal, save Jadzia, save Damar and his family.

“Would you be willing to share them with us? All that you have?”

“Maybe.” I chew on my lower lip a moment. “I don’t know if it would be better or worse. Save some, lose others. Save lives, maybe lose the war.” I hug my laptop to my chest, my bear tucked under one arm now. I want to save my favorites, at least, but how do I do that – especially, how do I save Ziyal – without risking more than I save?

“Can I mention them to Captain Sisko, at least?” Julian’s question makes me give him a puzzled look. He doesn’t need to ask me that. “You showed them to me, but that doesn’t mean they should become common knowledge.”

I do have to share the information with someone more than Julian if I’m going to save any of them. I’m not that good, even if I wish I were. And there’s no way to know when a way to send me home will be found, deliberately or accidentally.

“Sisko, yes.” I can trust him to make the right decision. He does in the show. “Kira. Garak.”

“Why Garak?” Julian looks confused, and I chew on my lip again, worrying at a loose bit of skin.

“The end of the war. He needs to know who to try to help, when there will be no one else there to help. Kira, too, sooner.” Maybe they’ll be enough to save the ones I want most to save. Save them, be in the right place at the right time. But who would we lose instead? How does it change the course of the war?

It’s too much to figure out, to plot all the possibilities, and who am I to decide who lives and dies? How do I manage it all without prolonging the war, or do I even try?

“Morgyn.” Julian sounds like he’s called my name more than once, trying to break me out of my thoughts while they ran in circles like mice under a bowl.

“Too much.” I make myself loosen my grip on my laptop, feeling the ache in my knuckles from having been holding on too hard. “Sleep time. Was sleep time when I was walking home.”

“There are guest quarters available. I’ll take you to some, get you settled in. I’ll tell Sisko you have something he and Major Kira should see when you wake up?”

“And Garak.”

“And Garak.” Julian tilts his head, and smiles briefly, though it gives nothing away of what he might think of my insistance that Garak is included.

It doesn’t take long to find empty guest quarters, and leave me to my sleep. I just hope I can actually get some, because exhausted as I am, everything that has happened leaves me terrified what might happen if I dare to fall asleep here.

Author’s Notes: So, sometime back in December, @do-you-have-a-flag posted about having a month of self indulgent inserting yourself in the story stuff. And I looked at it, and went, “… yes, yes I do want to do this.” And I started writing. The story is a bit stuck at the moment (a couple scenes past the end of this one), waiting really for me to go do some rewatch of episodes in the right time frame to get a handle on certain characters so I can write them.

When and where I started writing and posting and getting on my feet, putting yourself in the story wasn’t just cringy, it was actively discouraged as being Bad Writing, because doing that clearly meant you were Unimaginative, and shouldn’t actually be writing, because you’d only ever be a horrible writer.

… Fuck. That. Noise.

Anyway. The above is the result of me reminding myself that yes, I can be the protagonist of a story, literally me as well as figuratively me. That I am not excluded simply because of one or another or all of the things that are part of me.

Invisible disabilities, effecting both body and mind. Agender. Aromantic asexual. Lower middle class at best, working poor at my lowest point. These are all things that tend to exclude people from being the protagonist of a majority of stories. (Even when they’re white, and I’m tired of that being the only thing I share with protagonists in most readily accessible and locatable media.)

And if writing this is unimaginative, well, I’m happy to be so. Because for fucking once I want to be the protagonist. All of me, not just one small part of me.