#…it’s a very us status. exactly disabled enough to wish for something but too able bodied for there to be any real answer

[girldraki]

.

[buttercuparry]

I have had this thought for the first time a few months ago. I really did not have the energy to write something about it at that time- so I am attempting a mere summary of it now.

To me Tyrion is almost like Icarus. Not so much as in point wise parallels but more in the idea they represent. In the popular version of the myth, Icarus and his father were imprisoned by King Minos and hence they fashioned wings to escape. Despite his father's warning Icarus flew too close to the sun, overwhelmed with achieving the impossible. Flight for man!! An ambition too unnatural for fate to entertain. And so Icarus fell, plunging into the deep of sea and drowned.

Ever since we have been introduced to Tyrion Lannister ( through Jon Snow I think) it has become clear that for the world at large, Tyrion is someone who is expected to curb himself from all that is allowed to every other ( trueborn) Lord. He is the imp, the dwarf, the half man, the Lannister made of "bones, blood and clay" as opposed to the fine spun gold of his siblings and so his very appetite is taken to be that of a pervert. His being is mocked, his ambition loathed, and his desire shunned.

Tyrion advises Jon:

Let me give you some counsel, bastard," Lannister said. "Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."

I think it has been discussed in Tyrion's side of the fandom that he plays a part in front of most people. He leans into the stereotype of being trecherous and voracious lecher almost defiantly, armoring himself with the identity Westeros has forcefully placed on him. It is as much an armor as it is a prison when it comes to his relationship with Tywin Lannister. For Tywin his heir is his golden boy Jaime, the lion of the Kingsguard, able bodied enough to carry a longsword. And yet as much as Tywin may loathe it, it is canon that his ideal heir is Tyrion. Down to their penchant for theatrics even!- power is as much about holding it as in flaunting it- melting down Ice ( I remember something about Tywin being miffed that his family never had a greatsword, a status symbol for old houses I think) into longswords-the song rains of castamere etc. So of course the image akin to a demigod is very precious to the lord of Casterly Rock, and the only thing that mars it, is Tyrion's very visible disability.

For that Tyrion is forever guilty and his audacity to keep surviving is taken as a personal affront. So Tywin devises for Tyrion a prison of humbleness. He is given the charge of sewers to knock him down, his sexual being is often brought up to shame him and he is often warned off from entertaining prostitutes ( funny how then Cersei discovers exactly what her father had been doing moments before his death).

But Tyrion's Icarus moment comes almost ironically. His father presents to him the wax wings- the charge of KL till he is to get to the capital. And boy did Tyrion fly! High! High!! Higher than he could have believed Tywin would ever let him. His freedom had been to question the political agendas and the established loci of power in Red Keep and KL. In finally being able to call the shots like he would have been allowed had he too been spun from gold.

But where Daedalus never wished Icarus to fall, Tywin's "gift" of wax wings foretold Tyrion's eventual plunge. No sooner does Tywin get the opportunity than he decides, the "bastard" Lannister is done flying. His wings are melted first by undoing all that he has achieved, by not giving him recognition for what he has done in the battle of blackwater bay, and finally by trying him for Joffrey's murder. The imp is finally knocked down amongst mocking jeers of giant of Lannister

The laughter swelled twice as loud. Their mouths were twisted in merriment, their bellies shook. Some laughed so hard that snot flew from their nostrils.

Our Icarus is yet to die though..he is struggling in the choppy waters but he has yet to let go. Only time will tell if he will defy fate and fly, becoming the harbinger of winged beasts to Westeros.

[fangslikedaggers]

❝ he was a collection of hard lines and tailored edges – sharp jaw, lean build, wool coat snug across his shoulders. ❞ 

huh, who’s DAVID CORENSWET? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually ALAIN LESTOAT. he is a TWENTY FOUR year old PART-VAMPIRE wizard who is an UNSPEAKABLE. he is known for being RETICENT, MERCURIAL, ALOOF, EVASIVE, and DECADENT but also CHIVALROUS, ADROIT, PRAGMATIC, DEBONAIR, and INTUITIVE, so that must be why he always reminds me of the song THAT’S OKAY BY THE HUSH SOUND and THREE PIECE SUITS, LONE MATTRESS IN AN EMPTY APARTMENT, CODED NOTEBOOKS, INK-STAINED HANDS, BLACK COFFEE GONE COLD, UNSENT POSTCARDS, OLD TABACCO PIPE, SOFT DIMPLED GRINS, PERFECTLY COIFFED HAIR, ÉDITH PIAF RECORDS ON LOW, and RED LEATHER GLOVES. i hear he is aligned with NO ONE, so be sure to keep an eye on him. 

GENERAL

FULL NAME: Alain Danet Lestoat NICKNAME(S): some people call him ‘Drac’ for some reason, but he prefers to simply be called Alain AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 24, 09/19/2005 (will update graphic soon) OCCUPATION: Unspeakable, works in the Death Chamber most days GENDER: Cis Man PRONOUNS: He/Him HOMETOWN: Eguisheim, Haut-Rhin, France CURRENT RESIDENCE: London, England ALMA MATTER: Beauxbatons BLOOD STATUS: Part-Vampire (1/4th) / Halfblood

BIOGRAPHY

If you’ve ever had a chocolate frog, then there’s a great chance you’ve heard the name Lestoat. Among the many trading cards you can find in the packaged confection there is one for an Amarillo Lestoat, a vampire born at the same time that America declared its Independence, immortalized on enchanted cardstock. Amarillo’s rise to fame came with a single piece of literature which the vampire had published during his two hundred and one years. A Vampire’s Monologue, a mind numbingly boring read that offered the vampire a way to disable his victims so he could feed off them without trouble. It’s a story that has followed his grandson Alain throughout his twenty six years -- a fact that isn’t exactly welcome to the 1/4 Part-Vampire. 

Alain Danet Lestoat was born on a cold and murky September day in the commune of Eguisheim in Haut-Rhin to Marguerite Babineaux, a pureblooded witch whose family was one of the most prominent pureblood families in France during the 20th century, and her Part-Vampire husband Alexander Lestoat; the unexpectedly conceived son of the bore himself. Amarillo had no intention of fathering halfbreed offspring, but was surprised only ten years prior to his death to find out he’d impregnated a young witch he’d used his book on during a trip to Madrid, thus beginning the equally magical and vampiric lineage of the writer. Sometimes Alain wishes the man had managed to keep to this plan. From the moment he opened his eyes to the world he was instantly met with hardships and difficult hurdles to overcome. 

From his father’s side Alain had inherited a severe allergy to garlic, an acute aversion to direct sunlight, canines that were far too long and awkward for braces, and, of course, a slight penchant for the taste of blood. For her part, Marguerite had managed to pass down dark, thick curls and dimpled smiles, but that was not enough to quell the sort of fear that one got whenever he flashed a toothy grin at them. In Eguisheim, among the non-magical denizens, it was important for the Lestoats to stay incognito. Wixen could hide easily among the non-magical, ashen complexed and fanged Vampires could hardly do the same. As such, his childhood was rather isolated and sheltered. He spent most of his days roaming the rather large manor house they had acquired on the edge of town, reading the vast collection of books his two-centuries-old grandfather had left in his father’s possession, consuming knowledge about the world outside he could seldom take part in. 

It wouldn’t be until he’d received his invitation to study at his mother’s alma matter that he would get to see the outside world. With its sprawling gardens, never-melting ice sculptures and enchanting fountains, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic felt more like it belonged among Perrault’s stories than in the real world, and yet it was very real. Equal parts excited and horrifyingly nervous, Alain travelled to the secluded chateau to begin his education. His only hope was that among the magical folk of France he would be able to be more readily accepted. He was only a fourth vampire after all -- he was more like the other wixen around him, how could they abhor him? Disappointment would soon become a constant acquaintance for him. All it had taken was one excitedly large toothy grin to a fellow first year within the first minutes of the welcome feast and Alain’s reputation had been set. Leech. Bloodsucker. Monster. All desperately unfair labels since, as he constantly reminded others, he was more wizard than vampire, but it hadn’t mattered. Having knives for teeth was enough to cause anyone to instantly write him off as a danger and liability. 

After a particularly disastrous first year, including a rather humiliating question-and-answer session during a DADA class, he had sworn he would turn his back on the wizarding world and never come back. I’ll run away into the words, become the Bête in an enchanted castle and make friends out of the utensils I’ll steal from maman’s cupboard. It hadn’t been until Alexander intervened, having gone through a rough schooling experience himself, that Alain would be comfortable with returning to the academy. You’ll just have to prove to them they’re wrong by showing what kind of person you are. It was with this advice that Alain would come back year after year, despite the harassment from his classmates, in order to study. He had resolved to be the best wizard he could. He studied hard -- an easy feat since he was rarely invited along to field trips or outings with his classmates -- excelled at his academics and managed to be top of his class. Despite the naysayers, he’d graduated from Beauxbatons with top honors, and plenty of prestigious internships and job proposals to choose from. Tired of the isolation of both his small commune and the secluded chateau, he had taken what he felt was the most lucrative option -- an internship with the Bureaux des Mystéres in the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France. 

It wasn’t a particularly glamorous position -- he mostly helped file nonsensical reports. He wasn’t allowed anywhere near the actual Chambers within, but he’d caught on quickly enough to know that some really interesting and important stuff happened in there. Why else didn’t anyone talk about it? When he was able to, he applied to become an Unspeakable trainee and before long he was finally setting foot inside those elusive rooms and learning their secrets. He could be trusted to keep them; he was never one to socialize anyway. Who was he going to tell? The only person who was ever privy to his intimate thoughts was his little sister Amélie, and she was still too little to have discussions about his job. Quickly, he’d come to find the secretive and confidential world within those chambers were far more comforting than the vast world outside. His hunger for knowledge about the things he was studying had lead him to submit an application for another Ministry of Magic across the channel. It was said that in the UK they had made more headway with the types of things that were being studied within their own Department of Mysteries, and Alain was desperate to understand everything. When he’d gotten a response back from their Department head eagerly welcoming him to the team, he left first thing and didn’t once look back. France had already taught him enough, it was time to find something more on other shores. 

He’s been in the UK for only a year and a half now, and most of the time he’s spent sitting before a stone arch and shroud, listening to voices calling to him. The Death Chamber. There was something kind of funny about a vampire studying death, but Alain doesn’t care. Each day more mysteries open up to him, keeping him from sleeping and eating as his mind reels with everything. He’s been so occupied with his highly secretive work that he hadn’t noticed the climate changing around him. As a foreigner he understood the past conflicts in England in a textual sense. The Wizarding Wars and the Death Eaters were footnotes in his textbooks, a foreign problem to learn from. They weren’t close to home or part of his own history, so he hadn’t given them much thought. When a string of high prolific deaths began taking place they were sad, no doubt, but not warning bells of something dark to come. As such, he hasn’t taken a side. Per his letters home, he insists that should things become grim in England then he will secure a portkey back to France and resume his post in the Ministére, but Alain figures that whatever is happening will eventually de-escalate. Hadn’t they stopped a rise in dark wizardry in this country a matter of decades prior? 

ok so basically: alain is an introverted part-vampire who migrated to london about a year and half prior to start of game to work at the department of mysteries in the ministry. he started his career as an unspeakable in france’s ministry but is eager to learn more than he thinks was capable back in his homeland. 

BULLYING AND SLIGHT NON CON TW. generally he’s kind of introverted and keeps to himself; this is because he was harassed and bullied a lot as a beauxbatons student for being “halfbreed”. he’s 1/4 vampire and the grandson of a famous vampire writer, a legacy he really hates. in particular he hates that he’s 1. labelled as a monster by ignorant people (he lives off regular food, thank you very much) but also 2. if people know about his grandfather, then they know he wrote a boring af book and in a shady way to get people to submit to him for feeding. kinda feels non-consensual ya know?? 

PHOBIA MENTION TW as both a vampire and a frenchman, he dresses impeccably, so he’s usually seen around in long trench coats and thin tailored suits. he wears red leather gloves as both a fashion statement and also because he is a bit of a germaphobe. he won’t divulge details but this has to do with a vicious prank that was done to him when he was a student. he was kinda carrie’d if ya feel me. 

despite an air of decadence and debonair, he’s kind of poor (rip) and lives in a dingy little shoebox flat where he sleeps on a barren mattress and eats instant ramen and boxed wine for dinner. most of his money goes towards his closet or to his family back home, who doesn’t really need it but he loves spoiling his little sister so he would rather fund her life than his own. claims he’s making enough to live elegantly so they don’t realize he’s a l i a r. 

look he’s gonna be a bit of a hard egg to crack but i promise once he is cracked he’s charming and sweet and a loyal good friend so pls don’t give up on his interactions if he’s aloof and distant ;-; give the boy a chance. 

idk i’ll probably add to this as I think of stuff; it’s 3 am lmao

MISC

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteromantic LANGUAGES: English, French, Spanish, Some German FAMILY: Alexander Amarillo Lestoat (father, b. 1967 in Madrid, Spain), Marguerite Celeste Lestoat neé Babineaux (mother, b. 1981 in Mulhouse, France), Amélie Marguerite Lestoat (sister, b. 2011 in Eguisheim, Haut-Rhin, France), Amarillo Lestoat † (grandfather, b. 1776 in Philadelphia, America, died 1977 in Madrid, Spain; vampire and author of a vampire’s monologue)  PETS: Barn Owl named Archimedes and Black Kneazle named Persephone FACE CLAIM: David Corenswet ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo MBTI: TBD PINTEREST: (x)

WANTED CONNECTIONS

tbh i have nothing in mind so just hmu if you have ideas. if not, we will brain storm :) 

bonus: 

alain danet lestoat, beauxbatons first year c. 2017. ignore that wonky ass eye i’m too lazy to fix it

[phxse-shifter]

Bones [ Kaito / Sharon – Chapters 1 & 2]

A redo of a fic that was previously posted on my NSFW blog. Chapters 1 and 2 are redone here, and the title revised. The rest of the chapters will be posted separately.

Summary: In the Midas Group, scandals and confrontations are the norm and Kaito is immediately thrown into just how harsh working for the elusive and dangerous Dr. X. One thing leads to another and he ends up partners with Sharon, who’s more than willing to help him become a powerful figure in the Midas Group. Told in Kaito’s POV.

  “You are my god, you are my soul, you’re my savior in a devil’s world—and I                              can’t exist without you, I can’t exist without you.”

      “You are my drug, my miracle, you are my cure in this infected world-- and I                         can’t do this without you, I’m dying here without you.”

It was clear that when I started working with her, that I had no chance of escaping her clutches. She is the Black Widow, and I am her prey. I both blessed and cursed Dr. X for making me her partner. It was something I thought about since I first started working for him, but thought I would never see come to fruition due to her status. Even now, I would have much preferred my own area but to him, I wasn’t trustworthy enough for that. I needed to be “watched”, he says. By someone more trustworthy. I’d already had a recent strain of failures in regards to his wishes– which I still didn’t understand or bother trying to in detail– so he wasn’t trying to give me favor. To him, I was on thin ice. Not even that, but trying to fight my way through frigid waters.

Two days ago, I first entered the lab of Dr. Sharon Gagliardi.  

Who would have thought that the most dangerous and intelligent woman of the science community would be working for the devil incarnate? She was revered far and wide by many. Anyone would kill to work with her. To be in my place. Well, that was their problem. I’m her partner now, and by the looks of it, I’m going to be staying here with her for a bit.

However, I mess THIS up—our partnership, she’s going to tell Dr. X, and he’s either going to fire or maim me. That, or before she tells him, I’ll end up one of her “detailed little experiments” just for pissing her off in the wrong way or going against her. Her stoic face can’t hide her often cruel intentions. Working for Dr. X would do that to someone, still, it’s actually surprising to me. When she plots, and I ask her, albeit reluctantly, if she needs “assistance”, she laughs me off, saying I would destroy her plans instantly. I’m going to prove her wrong, if she would allow me to do that.

I know she thinks of herself as some sort of goddess or whatever. I don’t care too much about that, except for the fact she thought of me of some sort of eyesore. I was more or less her errandboy, and was not allowed to do anything remotely interesting for her. When I kept to myself, even that was a bother for her. It’s frustrating, because I do respect her… but she barely respected me.

“Daichi.”

Ah, yes. She only used my last name. I’m used to that, because my culture showed respect  by using the last name, yet the way she says mine is mocking. I look her in the eyes and say nothing, awaiting her next cruel statement, and icy glare. Instead it never comes, and she sighs, as if I’d disappointed her and turns on her heel, walking away. This is what I was going to deal with until I could prove myself to Dr. X and beg him for my own personal laboratory.

“You know, Gagliardi, all you have to do is tell Dr. X you don’t want me here,” I say to her, almost praying she’d make up some elaborate lie to get me out of here. “I bet it’d solve a whole lot of problems for you.”

She pauses, turning around with a strange, cold smile on her face, and fixes her glasses.

“Contrary to your popular belief, I don’t find you that repulsive. You just need work.”

“Elaborate,” I ask her. It may have sounded like an order, but I know she secretly likes when someone stands up to her. It surprises her. Makes her think.

She entertains me. “For starters, your work makes you worthy of being here. I’ve noted your designs stemming from Japan. You recently opened them up outside of your country. You’ve helped many with them, including those with disabilities—but you’re incredibly naïve. Your decision… Out of all the people you chose to work with… chose to work for the leader of the Midas Group, despite all the media telling you about the conspiracies, which are true. Why here?”

I freeze. For the first time since I’ve started working with her, she complimented me. I didn’t even think she gave my work a second glance! Yet, she did. I thank her quickly, but contemplate her next words. My reasons for choosing to work for Dr. X are a mixed mess, though I won’t exactly tell her that.

“I know choosing to work with Dr. X is something that a sane person wouldn’t choose to do, but I knew what I was doing when I approached him and I know what I’m doing now, Gagliardi. My reasoning will remain secret, for now. I just need more time.”

“Very well.”

We leave it at that. Throughout the remainder of our work for today, I can feel her eyes on me. I feel her looking at my every move, as if she’s analyzing me in my entirety. I’m trying my best to put something together but I can’t exactly do that since I know she’s looking at me and most likely judging me. She’s sitting, crossing her leg, fiddling her thumbs but still looking at me and I almost hate that. It’s bothering me, so much, so, so much so that the next stack of papers I pick up shake in my hands, a signal that my heart’s racing.

Next, I don’t even hear her footsteps despite her always wearing heels. She comes up behind me and grabs both of my wrists, stabilizing me by force. Her hands are soft against mine. She’s so close that some of her golden tresses rest on her shoulder, yet that does nothing to calm me. She’s never been this close to me and I don’t know how to feel about this.

“You’re shaking,” she noted.

I try not to roll my eyes. It can’t be helped that I’m shaking. I’m nervous. Nervous, but not scared.

“I didn’t notice,” I respond, sarcasm laced into my voice.

Oddly enough, she chuckles as she releases her grip, allowing me to put the stack of papers back down. She fiddles her hair, as if nothing has happened, and returns to her chair. This time she doesn’t look my way, and I’m able to get all tasks done. It’s as if she’s isn’t in the room. Why is she doing these things? To get something out of me? What does she want now? Things would be so much better if she didn’t do things like this.

“You seem to do much better when you’re isolated,” she noted quietly, her back still turned.

“Thanks,” I respond, sarcastically once again to her. “It’s the anxiety. I’d much rather not be near anyone– especially someone who considers my presence babysitting.”

“I do not consider your presence babysitting,” She opposes me greatly, standing up and walking towards me. Her eyes pierce mine, and her words are strong without the slightest hesitation in her voice. I know she is telling me the truth. I wanted to put her on the spot, to get her to admit something. I didn’t want to let her win but it backfired in such a strange way. “Like I said, you need work. You need more experience here, but I do not consider your presence that of a child.”

I don’t know how to respond. I can tell her words are true as I noted earlier, but it’s so unexpected. I thought she hated me even, despite respecting my work. You can respect the work but not the person to some extent. I open my mouth to apologize but she cuts me off.

“Come earlier tomorrow.”

I sigh. “Look, Gagliardi, I know you want someone to wake up for you at the crack of dawn but I actually-”

“Not for me,” she cuts in. For Dr. X. He’s coming to access our work tomorrow. Yours, specifically. The man’s always up at some ungodly hour so he’s using that to his advantage tomorrow.”

I sigh again. The creations I’ve made, mainly my cybernetics, would not be enough to please him. My cybernetics were made mostly to alter one’s body and he already had many creations involving that. Even with the ones I’ve made for weapons would be of no use to him. Dr. X had the power ot freeze over cities if he really wanted to. My worries are many, but instead of speaking all of those to Gagliardi of all people? I say the one thing that just manages to pop out of my mouth.

“…This man has a wife.”

I get her to laugh. “Oh trust me, Dr. X is a cakewalk compared to her.”

I raise my brows. “Really?”

She looks at me in surprise.

“You haven’t seen her? She’s almost always with him, at his side, and dressed in purple. Her hair covers her right eye. She is unavoidably the cruelest, and always gets her way, but she loves Dr. X to death. She has the power to get rid of someone herself. Don’t mess with her. For your own sake.”

My heart raced. What if she were with him tomorrow? If even Gagliardi was scared of her, then I would be terrified. Would she think my talent was so worthless that she would tell her husband to get rid of me or even do it herself? I try to tell myself I’m overthinking things. This is Dr. X. He always had the final say. Maybe she had insight on certain matters but she wasn’t the final determiner… Right?

“I’ll help you, of course,” she says suddenly.

“Why? Gagliardi, I-”

“I want to help you.” She responds.  For as long as I’ve been here, there has been no suitable partner for me. I want you to stay here. I would much rather work with you and help you to stay here. Now get ready for tomorrow.

Before I can ask her to elaborate, she tells me quickly to get ready for tomorrow while almost pushing me out. I know I won’t be able to sleep.

I needed to be certain I wouldn’t end up as someone Dr. X– or his wife– maimed.

                                               End of Chapter 1.

This time, I didn’t care about waking up early. I woke two hours early to head to the lab Gagaliadi and I shared. I looked at the time briefly and it was about three am. When she said Dr. X is awake at ungodly hours, she was right. He is our leader, after all. He must have to check every little detail before he is able to sleep soundly. When I entered our lab, of course Gagliardi was there, and I noticed my papers were out on the table, sorted neatly. All I would have to do is hand them over to Dr. X without a word and that’s exactly what I was going to do.

What’s alarming is that Gagliardi told me earlier that these visits were frequent even when I wasn’t here, so he wasn’t just out for me, so why did I feel he was? I see her now. She looked conflicted. Sitting in her chair, crossing her leg, and waving her own notes idly, she didn’t move her head to look at me, and didn’t acknowledge me. That was strange. She would have at least said something. Normally, I wouldn’t care considering when she looked my way it was often to criticize despite her objection yesterday but the expression she had wasn’t her usual. I am not compelled to speak. I don’t dare interrupt her. She hates that and would have no problem insulting me if I did so.

Instead, she is the one that breaks the deafening silence.

“This is the fifth time this month,” is all she said.

My eyes look towards the white floor tiles. She and I were both on edge. Her soft, worried voice is foreign to me. I’ve never heard her speak or act this way even though I’ve worked with her for so little.

“He’s planning something,” she continued.

Dr. X could be planning anything. He was… Unpredictable to say the least. We never knew his intentions, however there was one rule I knew was law in the Midas Group. What Dr. X wants is what Dr. X gets. All resistance denied. No one wanted nor dared to say ‘no’ to him. No one wanted to see him enraged. It was terrifying and I didn’t even know what it looked like, but I did know what it sounded like. When I and the rest of the Group knew he was angry, we heard screams and had to drown out the noise with something else.

“Is it something we’ll have to… Assist him with?” I ask her, my voice unable to be above a whisper.

I can see the dread in her face.

“You and I had better hope not,” she responded.

I wanted to ask why, but our doors opening did not allow that. My heart skips a beat and like clockwork, Gagliardi gets up almost immediately, wiping the blank expression off of her face and stands next to me and I straigten myself out, forcing the worry and dread off of my face. I could not look weak. I would not look weak.

Dr. X is as I remember him. Intimidating. Showing his status and power, and not here for niceties in any way. He does not speak until another person enters. She is just as Gagliardi described her.

The woman who entered stood next to Dr. X, her arms crossed. There was a mystery to her. I wanted to know more about her instantly. She was like a siren, singing a song that led sailors to their death. She, like described previously, was wearing purple and gold. Her hair was indeed over the right side of her face, and her hands were gloved. Our eyes connect but before my body makes me freeze, I give a formal bow.

“Dr. X, Dr…-“

I didn’t know her name.

“Elaine,” she responded.

“-Dr. Elaine. Welcome.”

“A pleasure to have you both,” Gagliardi greets them herself. “We’re pleased to see you.”

Our greetings done, Dr. X walks over to our table, surveying our notes. I wanted to speak on my latest work, but I wouldn’t be allowed to do so. Dr. X’s wife- Dr. Elaine—approaches me. She looks at me like predator hunting prey. Up and down. To the sides, before her eye pierces mine. That deep black color that I couldn’t stop looking at. I couldn’t move. Why could I not move? I wanted to move but I couldn’t move. Anything to put more space between us but I can’t move. My heart is racing? Why in the name of everything couldn’t I MOVE?

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she spoke to me.

Her voice is like the siren’s I compared her to earlier. I feel like I’m in a trance, as if I’m only supposed to pay attention to her lest I receive a swift and painful punishment. If I don’t pay attention to her, I’ll die. I have to follow and respect her every move. I will die. I will die if I don’t. I’ll die.

“We… We haven’t,” I said in a quiet, submissive voice. “I am-“

She chuckled. “-Dr. Kaito Daichi. My husband has told me a lot about you.”

I am completely frozen. At her mercy. I don’t know entirely if if her that’s really doing something to me, but I can’t move and the only thing I’m thankful for is that I can still control my eyes and overall expressions despite the trance. I try my best to not show fear, though I don’t have a damn clue if it’s working. She doesn’t stop looking at me and it reminds me of how much Gagliardi looks at me when she’s observing my work. Except with her I don’t feel like I’m going to die.

“Your devices are useful… Though, they are not what I’m looking for, nor am I overly impressed. After all this, and me being gracious enough to pair you with Dr. Gagliardi, you still haven’t made something for me?” I register Dr. X speking. I have to defend myself but I’m still forced to look at Dr. Elaine. If she really is doing this, then I want to test a theory.

I won’t allow it to end this way. I know I’m worthy of being here. My creations were not noted in my home country just because they look pleasing. They are worthy and I will be more than willing to prove it. Can’t you just tell him that? Please? Believe in me, if that is what you wish.

I don’t know how. I don’t know why, but Dr. Elaine’s gaze is different. It’s like she heard me. It’s like she’s thinking about what I said—no. What I thought.

I’m even more surprised as Gagliardi even tries to defend me herself, being my voice.

“Doctor, you know his inventions-“

“Quiet, Dr. Gagliardi.” Dr. Elaine interrupts her. “Anything that needs to be addressed will be asked by my husband.”

I can’t tell with my eyes, but I know he’s just looking at my inventions mockingly and wondering the best way to kill me so his secret is safe. The hold Dr. Elaine has over me… Breaks. She moves from me, grabs her husband’s arm, and she shakes her head disapprovingly. What is she doing?

“My love,” she says softly. “You mustn’t be so harsh. Dr. Daichi is still new. A fresh bud. You haven’t let him cultivate. Don’t be so, so mean, my love. He needs time and we have enough time for now.”

“Elaine-”

“Time is precious, my love,” she says sweetly. “Don’t be so hasty.”

“Fine,” Dr. X says.

Did she just defend me herself? However, my relief is instantly taken away.

“You make the conditions.”

I knew this would happen.

Dr. X turns on his heel and escorts himself out. I can see Gagliardi look as if she’s seen a ghost on my behalf, and I know this isn’t going to end well for me. I’m forced to look at Dr. Elaine, who was more than terrifying at this point once again again, and she takes her index finger and traces my cheek. I will myself to look at her strongly. Her next words shock the hell out of me.

“Dr. Daichi… Do not allow it to end this way.”

And just like that, she was gone.

I can’t force myself to be strong anymore. I sank to my knees. I wondered if it were too late to run away. To go in hiding? I begin breathing heavily. My head begins to hurt. I’m fucking sleep deprived. It was all too much and I’m on the verge of panicking. My heart is beating rapidly. I have to calm down or things will get worse. If my health deteriorates I’ll really be useless like Dr. X already thinks. The worst thing? I’m doing it in front of Gagliardi. I feel embarrassed. Almost disgusted with myself.

But she’s not ridiculing me. She’s not criticizing me.

She’s next to me, on her own knees, and pulls me close, holding me. She strokes my hair and it feels strange, but comforting, as if she was trying to protect me. It would take a bit to calm down, but this was certainly helping. She was helping me. Even if she’s doing this out of pity, I don’t care. It’s helping me. I’ll be alright soon. I’ll be alright.

“I alone will get Dr. X off of your shoulders,” she says, determined. “I’ll make this end. I won’t let anyone cause you to leave here.”

I hold on to her almost for dear life.

“Why… Why couldn’t I move?” I ask her.

“That was Elaine. She can do that. She does it so the recipient’s words do not influence her husband. Though, it makes him judge more harshly. Elaine defended you, however. She has never done that. Ever.”

I think I know why. It’s because Dr. Elaine can read my thoughts. She heard me. I don’t know how or why, but she heard me and in the end, that small moment of faith in me is what has me still standing—on a spiritual note. Me being on my knees right now isn’t exactly me “standing” right now. Still, I feel compelled to thank her when I see her again, and I’ll be seeing more of her again.

Gagliardi wills me to stand, and has me face her. Her words is something that would follow me over and over again for as long as I tried to prove myself.

“Realize one thing– You actively chose to work for Dr. X,” she begins. “No matter the desperation you had and your motif, you chose to do this when there were other options you could have ventured to. Do not presume to think yourself innocent and incapable of cruelty. You have to embrace that side of you. You have to be strong. There are moments where you’ll have to show heartlessness. You will have to be cruel. You will have to do things that… Are not ethical in the slightest. That truth will set you free.”

[tentacle-explosion]

I need to share the details of a traumatic experience I’ve been dealing with for a while now, because I know that I will never get justice and I’m hoping that talking about it publicly will (a) help me feel like I’ve gotten it out, and (b) maybe be relatable/therapeutic to others as well.

I’m going to put the full story under a read more and tag it with trigger warnings, but FYI the following contains graphic talk of sexual assault, emotional abuse, and mention of suicidal ideation.

I was married for 11 years, from August 2005 to December 2016. It was never a healthy relationship, even in the five years before we got married... But it was at its worst in the first few years (when we were both teenagers and full of unresolved childhood trauma), and then the last couple of years. In those last couple of years our relationship rapidly disintegrated after I had my brain surgery, for a number of reasons that, from his perspective (as he put it), boiled down to me changing into someone he didn’t recognize. From my perspective, it was that I grew and he didn’t keep up.

(Tl;dr I’d been in constant, debilitating pain before the surgery due to a birth defect, and it made me constantly cranky. I took it out on the people around me. Post-brain surgery, with the pain relieved, my entire attitude changed for the better. He didn’t seem to like this. Considering that his entire persona is based around being a caregiver, and that he also told me that he “didn’t want a relationship where (he) was wanted but not needed,” I think that the fact that I no longer relied on his help when I was disabled with pain/could care for myself also played a huge role in our marriage falling apart.)

During those years he became increasingly emotionally abusive, in ways too numerous to relive/recount, but the highlights include: frequent rants about how I’m incapable of empathy (and therefore “broken”) because I wanted us to verbally communicate our feelings rather than attempting (and failing) to read each other’s minds; telling friends in front of me that he wished he’d stayed with a previous girlfriend because his life would be so much better than being with me; responding to my last-ditch attempt to not commit suicide out of depression by telling him about it (so that he could help me find a therapist, and all suicide resources I looked at said to tell a loved one for that purpose) by looking at me with utter disdain and telling me that I was fucked up and to never tell him something like that again; and gaslighting me daily about various things he said or did to the point that I was convinced I’d gone insane... Among other things.

Now, for the entirety of our relationship, we’d had a shitty/practically non-existent sex life. He claimed various excuses, but ultimately I always knew that it was a combination of his sexual hang-ups (such as telling me once that “only bad people have sex”) and not being attracted to me at all. It made me extremely bitter because he’d never just own up to the truth, and it was commonplace for me to make self-deprecating comments about it to try to cope.

One day in the last months of our marriage, I made one of those comments, and instead of his usual eye-rolling, he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the bedroom, saying that he’d have sex with me for once.

I went along with it at first, mostly out of curiosity. But the foreplay played out the way it always did - clinical, like aliens probing me - and I wasn’t feeling it at all. I told him that I didn’t want to continue. His response was just to shush me and start to put his dick in. When I said, “No, I’m not even ‘ready’ yet, stop,” he said, “No, you wanted to have sex, so we’re gonna have sex!” and shoved himself in dry. It hurt physically of course, but more than that, I knew what he was really saying - “I’m going to punish you for having a sex drive so you’ll stop complaining” - and that hurt so much worse.

I disassociated for the rest of it. It wasn’t the first time I’d been sexually assaulted, but it was the first time it happened as an adult with someone I should’ve been able to trust.

Eventually he decided it was enough and left to clean up. I’m pretty sure I cried. He never came back into the room. I think he just went into our “office” to play a video game.

A day or two later, I told one of my best friends about it. I think I turned it into a bit of a joke to try to cope. But my friend said, “Jesus fucking Christ, [ex’s name],” and looked at me in horror, and it became very real. 

After that I locked it away in the same hidden part of my memories where I keep my childhood sexual abuse. I had to keep living with him in some semblance of peace, so I couldn’t deal with it. It just had to stay locked up until I was safe.

Then came our divorce, and I moved out on my own, and we tried being friends. It was tenuous, and something kept telling me, “You’re going to hate him soon.” I didn’t know why.

Except then came the #metoo movement, and every single time I read another story of a woman exposing her abuser/rapist, I felt a pain in my chest. I cried and didn’t know why. I was angry and didn’t know why. Until one day, my ex posted a Facebook status about how the women in the movement should be trusted and respected, and I lost it. It all came back to me and I. Was. Furious.

I didn’t confront him immediately. We were already on thin ice with each other because he interpreted nearly everything I said and did as a personal attack (out of guilt? I don’t know), but when he eventually asked me if I had a problem with him, I vented it. I didn’t call it what it was. I didn’t call it anything, actually. I just asked if he remembered the last time we had sex, and he said no. I said that I did remember, and retold it from my perspective.

His response?

“I hope you know that I didn’t mean to rape you.”

There was no salvaging a friendship after that. I don’t know if there would’ve been if he’d owned up to what he did, but that’s what I wanted. I wanted an admission and an apology and, I don’t know, maybe a public declaration of guilt. Maybe a lifetime of cash donations to women’s shelters or something. Anything that showed that he held himself accountable and was going to change and never do anything like that to another woman again.

But I’ll never get that.

I have nightmares on a regular basis about him inviting himself back into my life like nothing happened. I have panic attacks when I hear loud car engines like his. I cry at least once a week because of the low self-esteem I now have from hearing so many admonishments about what a terrible person I am, so broken and crazy and incapable of feeling correctly. I’m afraid to get into another romantic relationship, even almost two years after the divorce, because I’m terrified that it’s just in my nature to pick another partner like him and I’ll go through all that stuff again and again and again.

And I know that some people insist that it’s not rape if you’re married. Or that it’s not rape if you consented earlier but then revoke that consent. But it was rape. He’s the one who put that label on it, and he was right, that’s exactly what he did to me. He emotionally abused me and then he raped me to top it off.

So that’s my story. I don’t know if I’ll feel any better now that I’ve told it, but there it is.

[putris-et-mulier]

Hey. Can I have some advice, or at least, a moment to vent? I've been living with chronic illness for a while now. Ten months ago it got worse and a few months after that, I found out that I was diagnosed with chronic bronchitis when I was younger. Only my mother never told me until I was complaining about the same damn cough for 5 months. I researched it and behold the symptoms match with the symptoms I've been having and (1/3)

lived with for years. Chronic bronchitis is a leading cause of death. And no one bothered to tell me hey you’ve had a chronic illness for years and yea you probably should get on some kind of regular treatment. Much like my ADHD that my mom didn’t believe I had until I was 18 and compiled enough research to write my own article and couldn’t sit still to watch a movie. Anyway, I moved out, got a job at one of the busiest theme parks in the world, proceeded to get sick several times,and then ended up with a chronic cough that wouldn’t go away. Present time. It’s been 10 months since the cough started and no I still have yet to receive treatment cause doctors are fucking expensive and I have no car. I walk to work and there isn’t a dr near where I live that the buses will take me to. Uber is fucking expensive and I’ve got bills to pay. Doctors also give me the worst anxiety. When I went to get my ADHD treated the dr gave me a panic attack and told me that I was wastingwas wasting her time cause I couldn’t afford to pay her up front and the secretary was fucking up the insurance. They don’t listen to me, often give the wrong medicine, and/or always, ALWAYS, have something to say about my fucking weight as though that is what is making me sick. Like yea, could I lose a few pounds? Sure. Is it what’s making me ill? No. And I don’t have the fucking money to spend to try to find a decent doctor that will give me the treatment I need before I end up dying.Today, my chest felt like someone was squeezing my lungs and then setting fire to them while I couldn’t breath. I honestly was afraid that I was gonna pass out. And I understand I do need to get treatment but if it comes down to a dr or having fun and making all the hours I work and the constant stress worth it then I’m gonna go have fun. Cause I work way too much (50 hr/6 day weeks)for someone in my current state of health. I just don’t know. I’m tired and stressed and I have like no Energy™and just sorry for the long ass rant but you seem like the only blog I follow that would probably at least know what I’m dealing with. If that’s the right way to put it? I just feel like its gonna come down between me dying but at least having some semblance of fun or surviving my illness and not much else. I can’t afford both.

As hard as it is for people born disabled, I’m very very lucky to have been put on the disability system when I was a baby. 

People think it’s so easy to get on disability because everyone’s idea of a disabled person is an adult mutate that was physically injured (not that it’s easy for them either) but when you show up and say “I’m sick” but look healthy they disregard you because… Where have you been all these years? If you were really sick you would’ve come earlier.

No one believes you.

I wish I had advice but as of now this is the status quo. You are very lucky to have a documented diagnosis so you do have a little bit of a step up but the truth of the matter is that you have to give up your life as it is now if you want any help.

It’s going to take years, intentionally confusing and convoluted paperwork, neglect, humiliation, verbal abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, and depending on the disability also physical abuse. And that’s just to get on disability in the first place.

Then a few times each year you have to convince them you still need it. I was born disabled and I have a physically visible disability and I still have to keep proving that God hasn’t cured me.

This is why we are disabled. 

If you seek treatment you’re going to have to move outside of society. You can’t keep working, you can’t go do anything fun without considering how it may look if you get caught, you have to move in with family or friends that aren’t sick who will make you sicker with all the stress of being gas lighted not just outside but also inside your home. Or you get institutionalized.

What you’re going through is very common. What you’ve decided on is also very common.

I did it myself as much as possible and was just crossing my fingers hoping that I died before I got to the point where I couldn’t pretend anymore.

I did a lot of fun things and I had a lot of great times. Where I am in my life now, since I didn’t die in time, I’ve had to give up all of that and more. I have to beg someone(s) to let me live each week. I’ve come to terms with my life now becoming nothing but about being disabled and I’m starting to fight back but we are at square one. And I am much weaker and much more ill than I’ve ever been in my life because of all the fun I had.

But I don’t know if I would’ve given up having fun even knowing it’s making my life now nearly impossible. I’m one of the first millennials, the first disabled generation, to get to this stage in being a semi-legal citizen in adulthood so there is no one to look to for advice that knows what this is like.  Or will believe that you’re telling the truth. Other disabled people my age are going through the same thing, none of us really know what’s going to happen or what any of the right answers are.

If I hadn’t stayed in the closet for so long I wonder what I would be like now. Would I be more stable and confident? What if it was still as bad but I didn’t even have fond memories? If I hadn’t been able to relax now and then I may not have even let myself live this long. I have no idea.

The best I can tell you is that you are not alone and as much as it feels like no one can understand your situation there are a lot of people who know exactly what it’s like. But even having that support is risky because you do have to go into disabled communities on the Internet which can risk you being uncloseted.

This is why you are using anonymous. This is why I never turn the option of being anonymous off.

I, for one, will not live in this suffering needlessly. I’ve would’ve committed suicide many years ago as  I had planned on until I finally did involve myself, outside of the closet, in the disabled community online.

It’s not the camaraderie or the support that gave me a will to live. I still feel the same. The difference is I see you guys and I’m living your future. If the only way to live is to suffer then I’m willing to do so in order for you guys to have a little more traction than we have.

It’s not altruistic, it’s petty.

I care nothing for those people in society. I can feel sympathy or empathy but at my core I really don’t care. I care about what’s mine. My being disabled. My place in the disabled community. You guys; my friends.

There is one thing I’m good at and that is pissing socialites off. From a fuckboy on the Internet to a world renowned doctor. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to piss as many of them off as I can because I care about other disabled people.

One of two things can happen: 

1. I’ll just be entertaining other disabled people while I go down in flames

2. I might actually help making a difference toward getting our civil rights by taking some the socialites down with me

I’m happy with either of these. It’s petty but it’ll be fun and this is the only fun currently available to my community. 

[monstersarealwayshungryrpg-blog]

Name: Gavin Mason Crow Age: 25 Gender: Male Sexuality: Asexual Occupation: Hacker Affiliation: Neutral Faceclaim: Freddie Highmore Status: Taken

The Story

They call you The Hermit, an old soul trapped inside a young body. Others often thrive in numbers, but you thrive in your solitude, desperately needing a place to think on your own, alone but not lonely. It is a rarity for you to venture outside of your comfort zone, a computer and animal at your side are your daily companions. You believe the world is a mystery and while fascinated by it, you are much more intrigued by yourself and those closest to you. You are meticulous and often over-critical of yourself, focusing on the smallest of details, a quality that stems from your past, along with the relentless desire to prove yourself.

Connections:

Justice - There is something in who Justice is as a person that you admire. They seem to encompass everything you wish you could be, but aren’t. You have worked together in the past, only small jobs, giving answers when they couldn’t get them on their own, and even though you know what they do, you are never uncomfortable around them.

Death - Maybe it who he is, or maybe it’s the looks he sometimes gives you when no one else is watching, maybe you are imagining these looks but you can’t help but hold your breath and falter in your words whenever Death speaks to you.

The Chariot - You aren’t someone to make friends, not easily at least, so it was odd for you when the ease of your friendship with The Chariot blossomed. They are almost your exact opposite, spending their life behind a wheel in the real world while you are content with your fingers on a keyboard, but for some reason the two of you just work.

Past:

Gavin was born the third of four to an overwhelmed and underprepared middle-class family. The children were born close together, only four years between Gavin and his older brother and less than two between him and his younger sister. Four under seven was a handful in and of itself, but it became worse as it became obvious that Gavin was lagging behind the others. At first, his frazzled parents just assumed the delayed improvement was just him growing up at his own pace. However, as his younger sister’s vocabulary started to surpass his and he started to pull away even more from spending time with his siblings, his parents realized that perhaps there was something a bit more going on with their youngest son. It was the meltdowns, occurring nearly every time things got too loud or bright, that eventually got them to give up and seek professional help.

He was eight before the diagnosis of Asperger’s Syndrome was given. To the boy, the diagnosis unsurprisingly meant nothing, not even worth a pause in his current fascination of counting items around the room. However, to his parents this news was devastating, they had maintained hope that this was something “fixable” and not something that would stay with their son for the rest of his life. There was an upside to the diagnosis though, now that they knew the issue steps could be taken to work with it. Through therapy, Gavin did begin to speak more frequently and was starting to get better control over his meltdowns. While still quirky and behind where was “normal” for his age range, he was finally making progress.

By middle school, he was at the same intelligence level as peers his age, which meant that he could join the regular classes most of the day. This may have been good for his education, but it was very hard on him personally. He still had very poor social skills and got obsessive over his special interests. That, in combination with the fact that he came from the special education wing, did not bode well for his social status. He was bullied mercilessly when his siblings weren’t around. His older brothers got in a lot of fights those years, but Gavin did not care about the teasing he got on a regular basis. He just cared about his action figures and finding people who wouldn’t interrupt him when he told them about all that he had collected. Those people were few and far between though, and that, more than the bullying, made him feel like there was something wrong with him.

           High school was a better time. Gavin was still more socially awkward than your average freshman geek was, but at least now people knew better than to mock the guy with Asperger’s. He wasn’t exactly a bright student, but he was average. Until, one day when he was 16, he discovered the love of his life: computers. Obviously, he had seen and used computers before, but the first semester of his junior year he took a programming course and everything just clicked. Code was something that he could understand and manipulate. Unlike other people, he could hold a conversation with a computer, telling it what needed to be done and how to do it and getting the results he wanted. He learned code quickly, once he sets his mind to something it won’t take him long to get it done.

           Computers weren’t the only thing that made that class great though, there was also George. Despite high schoolers being kinder than their middle school selves, Gavin still did not have any friends outside of his siblings. This did not really bother him, per se, but he still was quite pleased by the prospect of having someone to discuss his newfound love with. George did not mind that Gavin would ramble on about the same things that they had talked about yesterday, nor did he really care that the other boy wouldn’t really carry on a conversation about something else that often. They would stay up late coding little programs and turning hacking into a game, taking turns playing the defender while the other tried to get past firewall after firewall. Their friendship forced Gavin to go outside of his comfort zone. It did not take long for him to realize that George was going to do things whether Gavin wanted to or not. So, if he wanted to talk to George about the code that they had been working on the night before, he had to go to the comic book store whether he wanted to or not.

           Once he had graduated high school, Gavin was a bit lost. There was a sudden loss of structure in his life that he had relied on, and George was moving away to go to university. Gavin wanted to follow his friend to university, but just going to the campus tour was enough to show him and his parents that being on site for university was not going to be for him. He ended up in a two year online program for computer sciences. This was the first time Gavin was actually bothered by his disability. He saw his siblings and friend move out and away, while he was still at home dependent on his parents. It was a feeling that he couldn’t fully shake, that he wasn’t “right” like the others were.

           After finishing his degree, things started to look up. His father’s company needed a part time computer tech and he was able to find freelance coding jobs on the side. It wasn’t exactly a high paying position, but it was a stable income and he enjoyed the work. Plus, he wasn’t expected to work face to face with others, most of his work could be done from home and that which couldn’t was usually by himself as well. Eventually he was able to make enough that he could move into a modest apartment for himself, not too far from his parents but enough that he felt more independent.

Present:

           Since then, Gavin has continued to do well for himself. In the five years since he graduated, he has built a name for himself in freelance coding. He also managed to build a name for himself in the hacker communities. Initially, the hacking jobs had been a way to connect with George despite being separated, a sort of competition of who could do the most impressive hacks. They wouldn’t mess up anything, just get enough evidence to prove that they had done it.  As time went on, George took part in this less and less, but Gavin thrived in the environment and continued to share his accomplishments with the online community well after his friend had fallen off the radar.

           It was likely this infamy that had the Arcana knocking on his door late one night. He didn’t want to open the door, but the pounding was so insistent that he feared they would come in one way or another. They didn’t really give him much choice in the matter, simply giving him instructions and a date to have it done by and motivating him with the threat of revealing who he was to the authorities. Gavin may not always be the fastest on the uptake with veiled statements, but he was able to tell that the authorities would not be as amused by his hacking escapades as the other hackers. So, he did the job, and he did it well. It was a fairly simple task, but the mob paid well. He became accustomed to their requests, though he would always refuse their offers to have him join. He is, after all, a freelancer.

Personality:

           Gavin has Asperger’s Syndrome. This disorder affects him in a few different ways, but the main one is his ability to socialize. He can have a hard time socializing, understanding social cues, and properly expressing himself. His speech is more formal than that of his peers, and he struggles to understand idioms and slang. He will take people at their word most of the time, and will have a hard time understand jokes and sarcasm. He can be a bit of a chatter box, and will ramble on about the things that he is currently interested in at great length if given the chance. He has a hard time sorting his thoughts into private thoughts and thoughts to verbalized, so if surprised or nervous he often blurts out whatever is on his mind. Another effect of his disorder is that he does not like changes in his routine, and will often get upset at differences that others might consider inconsequential. Despite being generally free of any outside deadlines and expectations, Gavin will set strict routines and schedules for himself to follow. Finally, his Asperger’s has come with two other diagnosis, general anxiety disorder and sensory processing disorder. His anxiety is well managed with his medication, but the sensory processing will still affect him if put in a situation with too much external stimuli.

           He comes off as rather cold or anxious to those who do not know him. He may also come off as cold to those he does care about, but that is not truly the case. Instead it is just because he has a hard time showing care and empathy. He looks up to people who are able to do what he is not, such as The Chariot who is able to experience the world out in it instead of just from behind the computer screen. He will not pay attention or will get frustrated with subjects that do not interest or affect him. However, he gets overly excited about things that he does care about. He does have anxiety issues that become apparent in situations that make him nervous. However, in the day to day he usually seems content and has a generally positive outlook on things.

[enigmaincrimson]

So... I’ve been looking at the Myst Verse and thinking of how encounters between that verse and the Doctor Who verse might go...

Long post alert...

For a Start, the D’ni use a form of multiversal travel. Low footprint, deceptively simple to use, and requires very little energy.

Due to how these links work... I doubt the Gallifreyans would be even able to notice them mucking about unless something big happens... and even then it’s like comparing the tiniest bit of ice on the top of a gigantic iceberg.

You’d have better odds having the Doctor parking his TARDIS in your backyard at this exact moment than a Time Lord and D’ni encounter.

Okay... so you are wondering why in the world I am able to say something like this, but the reason is simple... It comes down to the dramatic differences between their key technology.

For a start, a Linking book relies on a descriptive book to create the actual connection to a location. The better the description of the place the author wishes to go, the more likely things might happen exactly as they are described.

However... there is still variation. Like say... someone described Gallifrey in a descriptive book. Even if they described everything down to the last speck of dust... it could be any possibility that fits the words on the page... might not even be Gallifrey, but one that happens to look like Gallifrey or even Gallifrey from another timeline... You’d never know until that first Link is made.

Of course... considering that if the descriptive book is compromised it would eventually cause the decay and destruction of the “age” it connects with constant use, a simpler “linking book” is provided for constant use. Linking books mostly working more like a set of coordinates that reference back to the descriptive book. If the “linking book” is lost or destroyed... more can be easily made or provided.

This of course results in their 10,000 year long stretch of civilization looking more like a single outpost ran by a bunch of sunlight challenged humanoids that just popped up on some uninhabited planet overnight followed by them vanishing with nothing more than the ruins of the structures they built as traces of their existence.

However... if we’re talking more recent events and the mischief of a certain part-D’ni writer and a certain race she has dealings with... then we can say the odds of encounters are much higher.

In this case, we (Modern explorers) have a special type of linking book called a Relto book.

To get to the point... I need to explain why Relto books are rather strange by D’ni standards:

The “age” that the books link to are personalized... they’re all unique to each copy. I get a copy, you get a copy, they’re both alternate possibilities of the same place.

The books travel with the user. Normally when a Linking book is used, the user is transported with anything they have on them and the book is left behind.

They can link to themselves. Sounds a bit strange, but... apparently the D’ni think that isn’t exactly something can be done. It’s like the TARDIS using itself as the destination. It’s weird and seems completely bonkers, Relto books can do this just fine.

They also can be freely modified without consequence. Sure... it’s with the aid of adding, enabling, and disabling special glyphs that can be tacked onto the pages, but normal Linking books would break if you tried that.

I’d also like to mention that the bookshelf in the library is also important to note. For a start, each book on the shelf comes into shape the moment the user uses a link and can contain information on multiple Links to the same location.

Like... say you showed up in the city square with one case and another time you ended up on a balcony with another, the copy of the linking book on the shelf would have record of both for the user to utilize at will.

Also... the way it uses these links is interesting... namely, that the recorded instance of the location is different than another. In other words... if someone used one of the books in the city and another from their Relto library... they’d never meet as the explorers ended up in alternate versions of the same place.

In other words, the odds of things just happening to line up goes up considerably.

Then we get into the weirder stuff... namely the race the D’ni call the Bahro... and the explorers call the Least.

Unlike the D’ni with their strict writing systems and adherence to tight rules and regulations... the Bahro pretty much can go anywhere they wish like a living multiversal TARDIS due to their ability to freely link at will. Not really the most accurate description for multiverse hopping reality warpers, but close enough.

Of course, their freedom from D’ni slavery, experimentation by rogue D’ni... some incidents involving explorers and research staff, and other things... relations between them and humans is a bit... divided.

Taking both factions into account... I really wouldn’t put it past them say... snatching a bunch of people out of space and time and dropping them off somewhere in order to work things out themselves especially if it involves D’ni technology they themselves cannot approach.

Yes... being snatched like this out of the blue does happen. Not often, but it happens.

As for the Grower... that is another point of conflict.

Think of the Grower as a messiah figure in D’ni prophecy written by someone known as the Watcher.

 Of course... it’s rather debated about who it would be outside of a few specific details that clearly indicate however it is would have escaped the limits of the art.

They can link at will.

They can travel through time.

They will return light to the cavern which has now gone dark.

Other achievements that even a master of the art cannot do.

Considering the sheer value of the position... it hasn’t really been surprising that a good many candidates as well as fakes over the years.

A D’ni male called Kadish built an age to convince people he could travel through time and converted another into a factory to produce fertilizer pellets to stimulate the bacterial life in the city’s lake in order to restore light. He died during the fall of D’ni... trapped in his own treasure vault.

A D’ni male called Esher was convinced he was this person as he found a way to link at will with the aid of skin patch removed from a still living Bahro. Unsurprisingly... the Bahro weren’t too happy about this and they carried him off not that long after they regained their freedom. Current status unknown.

Of course, most explorers are convinced that a part D’ni woman by the name of Yeesha is the real grower due to the feats she has displayed over the years... from the creation of the Relto books to her being able to freely link without outside aid. However... nobody has seen her since her speech on November the 4th, 2007 when she explained the situation with the Bahro.

The only signs she’s probably still alive is the fact that new Relto books keep showing up even after her disappearance.

[thecourt-rpg]

ALEXANDER EATON is a TWENTY-ONE year old MALE HUMAN that uses HE/HIM. They are known for being ENERGETIC, EMPATHETIC, AND HUMOUROUS. Unfortunately, they are also known for being SECRETIVE, ANXIOUS AND CONSTANTLY FORGETTING TO TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF.

Their face claim is DYLAN O’BRIEN, and they currently live in FATESWALLOW/BUSINESS DISTRICT as an LIBRARIAN AT THE BIBLIOTHECA FABULA. 

Trigger warning for depression, attempted suicide, money problems, medication, and anxiety.

IN THE BEGINNING

Everyone who knew Alex knew his mother, Harriet, the town mayor. Ever since he was little he was the typical rich kid, but he never wanted to be rich. It put him on a pedestal that separated himself from his peers and that’s all he ever wished for – to be a normal kid with normal friends. It made it worse that growing up, Alex spent most of his childhood switching between his mum and his dad’s house, never feeling settled or particularly accepted anywhere. He did feel far more comfortable at his fathers’ however, who was the local town Sheriff as his house was smaller and less…flashy than his mother’s large estate home, and helped prompt that well needed feeling of normality.

When he turned thirteen Alex attended an all boy’s private boarding school in London because his mother requested that he did so (“I am proud of your potential and so should you be”), but it soon became clear that he wasn’t considered very…bright. Well, that’s what his school reports said. Difficulty in spelling seemingly basic words, reading, following rudimentary instructions and managing time appropriately was only a few of the many issues Alex had to face on a daily basis. That and his inability to sit still in class, let alone focus for more than two seconds on work he was supposed to be doing. It got to the point where Alex’s place in this prestigious college was being jeopardised, so his mother told him to go to one of her very own private doctors in London where they diagnosed him with moderate to severe dyslexia and ADHD.

As soon as he was diagnosed, Alex and his mother sat down together (on Skype) and discussed ways around this. She told him that it didn’t matter that he had this learning disability, just as long as he could manage it. Every day he and the private tutor she hired at the college would set an hour or so aside to practise reading and soon he found that while it took him a long time, he was just able to unscramble the words on the page if had the patience. Sometimes his dorm mates would read out his mail, or help him decipher chapters off a book when he was too tired. He had the support of his school and Alex was grateful for that. But the day the letter came through saying that his mother had lost the upcoming town election and been replaced by someone else came through the post was the day he knew that that support network would be torn away from him. THE UPHILL STRUGGLE

Alex was required to leave the school at fifteen (a year after the loss) as they were slowly becoming unable to pay the fees needed for him to stay. He returned to his home town in California and was forced to watch his mother spiral into depression post-losing her position. Anyone who knew Harriet knew how much her occupation meant to her, how much sweat blood and tears it took to earn that status, and losing it was just far too much for her to handle. Meanwhile Alex was pushed into the state school system where his disabilities weren’t taken as seriously as they should have been and the result was his grades dipping to the point of being, well, below average.

However, despite the severe pressure Alex was feeling from home and school, he refused to let anybody know exactly how much it was affecting him. He was no longer that potentially snobby son of the Mayor, but the class clown whom his classmates adored. In some ways Alex got exactly what he wanted, not being rich any longer had made him feel far more included into the everyday lives of his peers, but there was still something missing and he wasn’t sure what. When he was sixteen he was diagnosed with a generalised anxiety disorder, keeping even that from the people he would call friends.

Fast forwards a few years and Alex had graduated from High School. His mother had been formally admitted to a Psychiatric Ward after attempting suicide with a diagnosis of manic depression when he was seventeen. Somehow Alex had managed to pass all his tests with admittedly mediocre grades, but enough for him to apply for the University and creative writing course he thought he wanted. In truth Alex just wanted to get out of the town who had always felt so unfamiliar to him. Even his father didn’t want him, or at least was so busy he never got to see his son, even on weekends where he’d go to the pub with his mates and refuse to come back until he thought his son was asleep. Alex figured his father blamed him for his mother’s state in some way, because even though his parents had divorced way before Alex’s memory could stretch they still considered themselves good friends.

So with the pressure of uncertainty combined with his already impulsive nature, Alex backed his bags and ran when he was twenty-one, sending off a quick email to his father saying that he had left and was never coming back (for a while at least).

ARRIVING AT THE COURT

He wasn’t sure exactly how it happened but one moment he was crossing the town line and the next moment he found himself bumping into a girl who turned and hissed at him with sharp fangs.

Alex had entered The Court.

Discovering the secret country was a total accident of course, he wasn’t intentionally trying to seek it out in the first place, but somehow he was here in the midst of werewolves, vampires and fae’s alike. He had no money (he was originally planning on using the cash point on his way out), no connections, nothing, and he wandered aimlessly down unfamiliar streets, afraid yet oddly excited at the prospect of finding somewhere so different so quickly. When nobody offered to help him and darkness began to fall, Alex found himself sitting underneath a tree for shelter, homeless and hungry.

He spent the next few days gathering as much information on this unfamiliar territory as possible. He met many different species, all with their different stories and attitudes. Some rejected him, told him to go find someone who cared, while others was more than happy to lend him a helping hand. A few characters even offered him places to stay for a couple of days while he adjusted. Eventually someone heard his story and mentioned a job opening at Bibliotheca Fabula so Alex could pay for a his own place, which he took up with little hesitation.

After getting hired as one of the many librarians, specialising in the modern section of the building. Sure enough, after working their for a few weeks he managed to find and successfully rent a small flat in Fateswallow which is where he has been residing since.

PERSONALITY/QUIRKS

- Thanks to his ADHD, Alex can seem a little Too Much at times when he comes to, well, pretty much anything. For one thing he had a tendency to speak way too fast (especially after taking his Adderall) to the point where he just doesn’t know when to shut up. What pours from his mouth usually starts off as relevant but almost always ends up trailing off somewhere completely unrelated to the original subject of conversation.

- Alex fidgets – a lot. It’s only really a problem however when he forgets to take his medication, otherwise he can sit relatively still (albeit the continuous foot tapping).

- Unsurprisingly (given his past Class Clown rep) Alex is very approachable and likes meeting potential new friends.

- Leading on from the previous point, Alex makes it a habit to understand people, or more accurately, understand the different species. Not soon after arriving in The Court he purchased a notebook where he’s been keeping messy notes and pictures of every supernatural being who are residents so that he can refer to it whenever he feels the need to understand someone (or whether they might be a threat or not). Alex tends to whip out this notebook on a regular basis in public and it’s certainly had mixed results with those who happen to look upon it. Some react positively, thinking that his urge to understand everyone is either adorable or just seriously smart, while others see it as this as patronising and on several occasions has had his book thrown across rooms and almost destroyed.

- Despite what Alex may say, he is prone to having panic attacks when put under severe stress (due to his un-medicated anxiety disorder) and has regular heart palpitations.

- When there aren’t many people about or you’re one of those lucky individuals who he calls friend, Alex has a softer side to him that tends to go amiss underneath all the hyperactivity. He can be surprisingly caring and gentle when the time calls for it because he’s really quite empathetic.

At Least Three Potential Plots for Your Character

YOU GOTTA FRIEND IN ME // For as long as he can remember Alex has been longing for a friend, someone who he can go to without feeling judged, someone he can go to vent or just hang out. It would be particularly effective if the friend was female, given that he spent the beginning of teenage-hood attending an all-boys boarding school and hadn’t had the opportunity to bond with the opposite sex. Another interesting dynamic would be between him and someone who is hundreds of years old perhaps, regardless of what gender they identify themselves as.

READ TO ME // When Alex was diagnosed with severe dyslexia he created a strong support network within his boarding school. When he was forced to leave however, he’s failed to find a good equivalent to that. What if someone was willing to tutor him? Someone for Alex to go to whenever he’s finding something particularly hard to read, for whatever reason? They don’t have to be close friends, but someone that Alex can trust with assisting him in handling his issues (THIS PLOT CAN BE JOINED WITH THE FIRST ONE).

DOCTOR DOCTOR // Alex has a soft, caring side to him that tends to get buried. Give him an excuse to care for someone. Perhaps someone’s injured and now he has to escort them to the doctors, or maybe it’s something deeper than that: a panic attack, grief, sadness, anger – anything that will prove just how gentle he can be.

HELPING HAND // When Alex entered The Court for the first time, he was helped by a variety of different individuals. What if you were one of the ones who offered him a place to stay when he had nowhere else to go? Or even just someone who gave him directions or food in passing but when he most needed it? It would be interesting to have him interact with some of those individuals again now that he’s got his own job and place to stay – something that wouldn’t have been possible without that help.

[waitingforenough-blog]

I have a lot of things to talk about. Right now my family and I are dependent on the finances of my mother and mother-in-law. I have a government assisted loan for school years, but nothing on the off time. We are going to apply for social assistance while my husband looks for more suitable work. He has been looking for two years now and it has not been easy. I have disability status due to my anxiety, panic, and agoraphobia. I’m learning to control the body dismorphic disorder better, and my agoraphobia will diminish when we move within my “safe zones”.

I want independence and so does my husband. At least his mother is very kind about it and generous when she is able to be, despite her being on a pension. We are so very grateful. My mother is generous as well... but... it all comes with a price. It’s not so much that she simply wants help around the house, but she wants it exactly at the time she wants it. We are willing to do the chores around the house, but not immediately because our daughter takes precedence in care. She is just a toddler. She asks for things and sometimes demands it. She makes suggestions like: “You should toilet train her.” I would express my desire to do so. Then she will say, “Just keep her confined to the washroom so she doesn’t pee on the floors. It will depreciate the value of the home.” or she says that all my husband does is play video games. Which is not true. Yes he spends a lot of his free time playing video games, but he is also being a stay at home husband while he sends out resumes, answers job ads, etc... He is the one who cares for our daughter during the day, cooks and cleans, then at night so I can get sleep, he tends to her bed wetting, and anything else she needs because school is hard on me, especially since the distance to my school takes a physical toll on me to get to. Whenever my mother sees him playing video games, it is when she gets home at the same time as I do, I take over our daughter’s care so that my husband can have a break to do something leisurely. After all, he has been spending all his day reading to her, teaching her about colours, alphabets, manners, etc... I am working hard on my education so that I can help provide my part in the future. My mother sees that, but she accuses him of not contributing. I’ve been defending him and she makes comments that he is “slow” or “not smart” or “rude”. He actually is none of those things, it is just she has a different cultural standard of manners. In her culture the potential male who woos a family’s daughter is required to provide services, money, and gifts to the daughter's family during the courting period and afterwards. It is the duty of his parents as well to pay for those things too. I don’t think that is a very fair way to live.

Our families have never met. I am afraid of it happening. I know that his mother will be charming, his siblings not so much, but it is more my mother who will make racial slurs behind their back, classist, and other prejudice comments. I love my mother-in-law, she isn’t perfect, she smokes, drinks, and swears a bit, but she is a sweet woman that doesn’t deserve unkind words like that behind her back.

My mother hides this side of her from many people. She even hides some other parts from my brother which is disturbing. It is like all her rage, comments, and disdain is saved for myself.

I wish I didn’t need her help. I am hoping more distance will help and therapy will help me gain some stability in the future. I don’t want our daughter to grow up hearing all the hateful things she says towards people. How she speaks to my daughter dropping hints like “Maybe you should tell your mommy/daddy to do ___whatever__.” She says it in a cute voice to her too. She will talk down to my husband constantly like he is an idiot. It takes a toll on his self esteem.

We finally had a big blow out and throughout the whole thing she constantly yells at him saying he should be nice to her. He couldn’t take it anymore, he especially told her to stop treating me terribly too. This whole final straw was the result of my mother saying that it was important for a door to stay open as not to collect mold, even though we explained that it was too dangerous because my daughter’s fingers would get caught when she plays around near the door, as much as we chase after her things can happen in a split second with toddlers. Also that the door couldn’t stay open otherwise the basement door, where we are staying, wouldn’t be able to be opened. I argued mostly for my daughter’s safety, she argued for the depreciation value and inconvenience of regularly cleaning out whatever may collect mold.

Whenever I asked her for help by going to therapy with me, or even just reading material on how to understand what I am going through. Things like brochures about mental health, she always says “I don’t need that.” or says “Just try not to be like that.” or “I hope you are not going to turn out like __insert person from my dad’s side of the family here__.”

My husband is experiencing health issues that we have been trying to get diagnosed for years. Through all the years of tests, she blames him for his own health deterioration, even though he exercises, lifts weights, despite the excruciating pain he feels constantly. She always makes comments about our eating habits. If we eat healthy she even picks on how much my husband eats. He is nearly 6 feet tall and muscular. She complains he eats too much, despite how lean he is and that he should eat only what he needs to stay alive and healthy, not for the sake of exercising and strength. She says the same for me. I’ve been gaining weight on and off for several years. Many of it is because of medications. It never helps my self esteem. She tries to control what we eat through groceries too. Then, when we buy groceries ourselves to get the things we NEED for our diets, we get accused of spending unnecessarily. She believes we should only eat meat twice a week because HER stomach can’t handle it. (I know it doesn’t make much sense.)

To everyone else she is this wonderful person. I even talk to people about her like that, except a few friends who are experiencing similar parental issues in their adult years. My mother doesn’t change her way of thinking or acceptance of issues unless it comes from one of my cousins or her siblings, sometimes my brother. If I make a comment, it doesn’t count. I found out recently that all the things my husband accused her of (which is true) she complained that her coworkers and her bosses have pulled her aside for her attitude and lack of tact as well. She mentioned that people needed to learn to “live with it” because it’s just “how I talk.”

For years I have been gentle about it, but it goes in one ear and out the other. She goes on about saying things she hates about Trump and what he says, but in a few days she will state her opinion on something, which is exactly one of the things Trump has expressed. It’s like she is siding away from him for the sake of being part of the crowd.

I’m not sure how much I can take. After years of being left for my grandparents to raise, being forced to spend weekends with an alcoholic father (because of divorce), being locked in a closet for discipline as a child, being locked in a room for a full day until my handwriting improved because I got a “B” in handwriting when I was 10, being hit in the face when no one (even my little brother) and having to cover it up with makeup, being pulled by the hair and dragged for disobedience, belittled for unreasonable grades (despite passing), asking why my _insert body part here_ looks a certain way, not being allowed to shave/wax/pluck during puberty, not being taught how to self groom as a child to teen but automatically be expected to know how, having a religion that is “wrong”, being told how “miscarriage can be a blessing” when talking about other people WHILE I am pregnant, shrugging off an accomplishment of getting into the best school in our country, accusing my daughter of being slow, etc...

I’m not sure how much else I can handle. I’ve tried even to kill myself during pre-teen and teen years because of the despair I felt. Especially when I made comments to friends about how I was treated at home which I assumed was normal for all kids, but found out it wasn’t. I always felt so depressed after puberty and I tried to express my problems to people and my mother, all I got was “Don’t be like that.” When I had other friends who were going through their own mental health issues, I felt like I was “unworthy” of saying anything else about my problems, because they were having it worse.

I had friends that turned against me when I had enough of them making fun of me for being one of the first in our group to have a boyfriend. I snapped back at someone to stop it. They all began to excommunicate me for defending myself. It turned into cyber-bullying all the way into my 30s. I’m hoping it has stopped now. 

I know the answer is to cut myself off. My psychiatrist has made that a possibility to me that may have to happen if boundaries are not working with my mother. I’ve been through a lot.

My husband and I haven’t had a perfect marriage. He has had his affairs because of sexual addictions. He has been a year sober from it. With much difficulty, but he is keeping himself in check and reminding himself of everything he will lose if he continues. He actually seems happier. Remorseful, but happier for it. He actually seems proud of himself.

I have had my own affair once, but he was approving of me having experiences in order to know if I really did want to be with him, he just didn’t approve of the person.

We’ve been through homelessness, deaths, job losses, educational problems, mental issues, financial problems, etc... Even some things that don’t even make any sense. We have conquered so much and I feel like my mother is trying to divide us. I hate how she thinks that anyone who doesn’t have a desk or management job is worthless. She still believes a man should be the only one providing for a family. She accuses Chinese people of being a large problem in society, which hurts since her children were fathered by a part Chinese man. Also because her most recent former long term relationship had an affair with someone Chinese, which broke up the relationship. I feel it is unreasonable to blame an ethnicity over the demise of her relationship (which for various reasons was not healthy to begin with) and for economic and social problems in the world.

I can’t keep having my two year old around such hate, language, prejudice, and double faced actions.

I am feeling so much guilt planning on separating ourselves, or even writing a plan on how to distance ourselves from her. It was easier to break free from an abusive father, but this is more difficult, when I have spent so many years wanting her approval, realizing I will never have it unless it is on her terms. From career, to education, to spouse choice, even to specific cleaning habits (like having a correct way of arranging a kitchen counter top).

I just want to have a happy life with my husband and daughter, I don’t want to constantly fear my mother. I don’t want to live with the pain of everything that comes with her wrath, opinions, and accusations. I especially can’t come out openly and feel the frustration of no one believing me, because of the front she puts towards all other relatives and friends. I want to concentrate on the problems and issues in my own family without her “i told you so”s and her pressures.

I love my family. We don’t deserve her treatment. I thought I did at one point, but my daughter doesn’t deserve to be manipulated. My husband hasn’t done anything to her other than that one final argument. I don’t know what I truly deserve, but I just feel so drained.

I want to concentrate on coping skills, getting well, school, my family, and things that make us happy.