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maozijun · 4 years ago

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Mao Zijun Xing Fan Interview

Removing the “adonis of period-costume dramas” label, and returning to a Republican era drama

Before Killer and Healer (or KillHeal hence), Mao Zijun had not filmed a republican drama in a long time. For almost the past five years, the audience’s impression of him has been his costume dramas, such as Qin Wuyan from The Legend of Chusen, An Qinxu from The Glory of Tang Dynasty, Yin Yiren from The Legend of Haolan, and so on and so forth. Because most of his dramas are costume dramas, as it happens, offers that come to him are the costume dramas.

Thus, when an offer for KillHeal, a TV drama about “drug crackdown” set in Republican China, appeared before Mao Zijun, he accepted it without a second thought. “At the time, I felt that I didn’t want to keep shooting costume dramas.”

If “costume drama” is a tag the audience associates with Mao Zijun’s role and acting, we can also claim that “zen,” “placid,” and “easy-going” are impressions he leaves on most people. Other than for the purpose of promoting the broadcasts of his new dramas, he seldom appears in public. If he “wasn’t at home, [he’d] be hanging out, or watching movies.” To the public, it’s as if he’s been “spirited away.” As a regular whose name ranks on the “skilled actor without due fame” chart, regardless how many times he’s been asked about the matter, his response has always been “I really haven’t paid it much attention.” His response may seem like a pleasantry, but he means it from the bottom of his heart.

Mao Zijun knows that ever since he became an actor, his career has been successful for the most part without any major setbacks, and he’s met many great people along the way. From his first TV drama Beauty's Rival in Palace when he cooperated with Lin Xinru, he stumbled into the entertainment industry and was swept along despite his inexperience and unworldliness. Including Director Yu Zheng who was willing to give him the male lead roles for The Legend of Haolan and The Matriarch. “So I thought I’ve had good luck. I’ve met people who appreciated me and were willing to give me opportunities. I’m very grateful.”

Mao Zijun’s “zen” attitude, however, doesn’t extend to everything he does. When there’s a role he really wants, his “wolf-like ambition” is brought out. When it comes choosing projects, he doesn’t compromise either. “I think everyone has the desire to strive for things they don't have; regardless of where you are in life, you wish to become better, you wish that you can climb higher. It’s a never-ending climb.”

Regardless of whether he’s gained fame and popularity, or remains a fine wine waiting to be discovered, “becoming better” is a creed he lives by and acts upon.

- 01 - Shooting KillHeal was an effortless process

What made Mao Zijun “return” to KillHeal after a long separation from republican dramas was its story and Jiang Yuelou’s personality. Jiang Yuelou is a morally grey character: a police officer and Chief of the Inspection Department. He's made law enforcement and drug crackdown his lifelong war, and it’s an undertaking he’s willing to sacrifice his life for. Although a patient with manic depression (known as bipolar disorder in modern clinical terms)--which results in his irritable, violent, and stubborn personality and tendency to be a lone wolf--he’s upright at his core, and there’s a gentle side to him deep down.

When Mao Zijun saw the script, he knew that this character had a lot of potential and creative room to work with. Precisely because of the great amount of creative room, on top of Jiang Yuelou’s vivid and distinct personality, filming for KillHeal was a relatively easy-going process for Mao Zijun despite the character’s lifelong angst and suffering. The character was rich and human per se, “so there was no need to brood over some things,” and it could be rather realistically portrayed. By the same token, the more one could ease himself into character, the better the final results.

Many actors determine the difficulty of portraying a character by criterion of the character’s degree of complexity, or their own compatibility with the character. In this respect, Mao Zijun is somewhat different: his criterion is whether the character can spontaneously come to life in the mind’s eye. “When you’ve read the entire script and discover that the character is very vivid and lifelike--his motives, intentions, behaviour and course of actions, all of which constitutes his rich psychological wiring--you will be able to portray him with relative ease, and not based on whether he’s similar to you. “Compatibility is only one aspect.”

Even if you were to act a character completely different from yourself, “you can imagine yourself in his shoes--what he would say or do” because he’s such a vivid character. “You can effectively get into character.”

In crafting Jiang Yuelou, Mao Zijun largely relies on following the script, his character changing with the progression of the plot; as a result, Jiang Yuelou’s uncontrollable violence, uncompromising ways, and other destructive habits doesn’t extend beyond the character and affect the actor himself. Unlike other actors whose characters took a mental and physical toll on them, Mao Zijun isn’t a purely immersive actor.

“Filming for a movie may require more personal feelings and emotions, but for a TV series, I think it’s half-and-half. Except for particular emotional scenes, that is.” In KillHeal, for example, the emotion expressed through Jiang Yuelou’s eyes when he’s solving cases, or reaction to receiving news, are all achieved through acting techniques. But for scenes where he’s facing the death of his subordinates, his mother, his adoptive father, his brother, and other loved ones, his reactions and expressions of pain must be nuanced and highly faceted. Even for crying scenes, he must cry in widely differing ways. For these scenes, Mao Zijun must lend his own emotional faculties to the character.

However, he does not believe tears are the only way to express his character’s emotions. When his younger and less inexperienced co-star, Ian Yi, consults him about his worries of being unable to shed tears, Mao Zijun tells him, “Why must you shed tears? Tears do not mean everything. The more dramatic and emotionally heavy a scene is, the more you must relax yourself.”

Filming to Mao Zijun is in fact a creative process where he imagines the character, then completes him. Hence, for every character he has acted, Mao Zijun would forget about the character. In his next drama, he would similarly imagine the character, understand his character, and the cycle continues.

So far, he believes there has yet to be a character that requires a lot from him mentally and psychologically, or even one that took him a long time getting out of. But, he hopes he will encounter such a character; a character that can let him experience more, feel more, and empathize with more.

KillHeal was a project Mao Zijun worked on two years ago. Two years ago, he did everything he could to bring Jiang Yuelou into fruition. Looking back now, there are details that could be further refined or supplemented, but the current KillHeal is still to his satisfaction, from his performance and methods of expression, to the overall product that is his character. “As to whether it has met my expectations… Because the broadcast of KillHeal had been held off for so long, I was worried about if the drama would go out of date when it finally came out. But there haven't been such problems so there’s nothing else I’m unsatisfied with.”

- 02 - I’ve become increasingly sentimental

While Mao Zijun may not be a purely immersive actor, he is not a wholly rationalistic one either. It’s in his analysis of his characters and response after completing a character that is rational. This rationality is present in his logic, or his healing process after getting out of character, but not acting itself.

Rationality is perhaps a result of Mao Zijun’s own experiences and personality. He had no formal training in acting. He had good grades in high school, perhaps due to parental pressure and his own belief that good grades made life somewhat easier. After graduating from high school, Mao Zijun successfully got into Zhejiang University of Finance and Economics and majored in Auditing.

“Why had I chosen auditing? At that time, I thought auditing had good prospects. It wasn’t a complicated job either--I took math and the sciences in high school, so auditing isn’t hard.” After getting into university, his parents weren’t as strict as they were in high school, so he had the opportunity to “set himself free” and explore new options. Just like that, he started taking jobs for advertisements, and then acting.

“Beauty's Rival in Palace was especially looking for people to fill in roles at the time. Liu Che was an important character despite not having a lot of scenes, and they thought my appearance fit the role.” Mao Zijun laughed lightly, “Also because of my looks that I started acting.”

The profession of acting provided him with many new experiences, because every character was new and unlike the mechanical motions he had to go through everyday. “This is also the reason why I will persist on this path.”

As someone who changed career paths from the sciences to acting, Mao Zijun has never second-guessed his decisions. He thought of himself as lucky, and his path a smooth one. Many of his friends around him have changed their career paths because of setbacks or other reasons, but he hasn’t. His parents have given him understanding and support. “My parents would express their worries, but they would not try and make a decision for me. Every big decision I've made is my own choice.”

Mao Zijun is a Capricorn: steadiness and rationality are a big part of it. But because he’s been an actor for so long, he’s in fact becoming more and more sentimental. When he first started out in the industry, he would care about others’ views and opinions about him. But with time, they gradually ceased to bother him. This is one of the very few things that have changed about him since his debut.

As an actor with no formal training, but has still received praise and acknowledgement for his acting skills, he does not attribute it to natural talent. Instead, he attributes it to his own capacity for self-excavation. “I think as an actor, you are mining yourself (your talents and skills). For example, if you meet other good actors, good characters, you will be driven to tap into your natural talents. For many actors, rather saying they don’t have talent, they simply haven’t been given the chance to discover their potential.”

In Mao Zijun’s opinion, every actor has talent, it is only a matter of chance and whether they can encounter a great character.

- 03 - Try and lose the “let it be” attitude

Mao Zijun has been in the industry for more than ten years. Ten years’ time is enough to change the state of the entertainment industry and the actors in it. As a post-85 liner interacting with post-90s and -95s actors, he’s picked up a hobby of collecting tarot cards, and has been playing video games like Super Mario and Contra that came with the gaming console gifted to him by his fans.

Newcomers in the industry would abide to the instructions of senior artists and the director. If they met difficulties or discomfort in the process of the shoot, they could only learn to deal with it themselves. But the market has changed, with new genres, subject matters, and the actors, too, are young. These young actors can willfully express themselves and vent, unlike the older generation of actors who learned to put up with things.

These changes cannot be predicted. Just like how it happened in a few years’ time, when an actor may no longer have a large audience base like before--an audience who sits in front of the TV just to catch the airtime of a TV series. Mao Zijun, too, is no longer the unworldly and inexperienced newcomer he was.

If he had to draw a demarcation, he says it’s the year 2016. “Before 2016, although I was an actor by profession and had thought I took my job seriously, looking back now, I’d just been in a status quo of “passing time.” Life had been smooth for Mao Zijun: high school, university, getting a job. He hasn’t met any real obstacles. The efforts and hard work he thought he had been putting into his work were tantamount to what he could easily accomplish in his best and most favourable circumstances.

He strongly agrees with the view that actors need to experience pain and setbacks. But he thinks that’s only a part of it. An actor can experience some things, but he is not able to experience everything. To him, some experiences can be gained through reading novels. “The stories, including the thoughts and behaviours of characters, are enriching and detailed. If you’re not able to personally experience some things, you can experience them via other methods.”

Mao Zijun is a very carefree person. He takes on drama offers when he feels like it, and rejects it when he doesn’t. He’s content with hiding himself away from the public eye to take time off for himself. But now, even he doubts whether the “let himself be” attitude is appropriate. “I noticed that there was a gap, like the period of time after The Legend of Haolan finished airing to the airing of KillHeal now. During these two years, you had no other dramas on-air. Your fans want to see your new projects and content, but you couldn’t give them anything, yet they would still give you a lot of support. It would make you question, shouldn’t I be filming more projects for them?”

After questioning himself, Mao Zijun started taking on more projects. Even during the pandemic, he filmed a movie (no news yet), acted as a cameo in The Journey of Flower as the character Sha Qianmo, and filmed for The Matriarch. “Since my fans want to see me so badly, I’ll just have to act in more projects, I thought.”

In The Matriarch, he plays the role of Wei Liang’gong, a very kind, “moonlight” (unattainable) character--a character with all the wonderful traits and virtues of a person--much like the male version of Empress Fuca Rongyin from Story of Yanxi Palace (2018). “This costume drama depicts a very realistic portrayal of life during the period. Acting in this drama was more of a process of experiencing and feeling, using an everyday-life way of performing was quite nice.”

Mao Zijun doesn’t really care whether he’s famous or popular. Even to this day, other actors from the casts he’s worked with would offer him new projects. Speaking from this point, he thinks he’s lucky enough as it is. To him, a TV drama actor, a bit of fame and a lot of fame doesn’t hold much of a difference. In the long term, “fame” is only a matter of degree. “Unless you win an award--a prestigious film award, whether it be movies or TV films--how much fame is but a matter of quality.” What he must do now, and spare no effort, is to give himself more opportunities.

In retrospect, Mao Zijun has gotten the roles he wanted, and there’s really no regrets. What he desires perhaps lies in the future. Fortunately, there’s just enough time.

Writer: 77

WeChat ID: LJLX2013

Original Post

#mao zijun #interviews #articles #xing fan #星番

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faelapis · 4 years ago

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I disagree that it’s comparable to how SU treated Bismuth. Bismuth wanted to kill one of the Diamonds murdering and oppressing everyone. Jet wanted to kill innocent civilians. He had a chance to change when he entered Ba Sing Se, but he became fixated on exposing Zuko and Iroh - from his perspective, working class refugees who he only hated when he realized they were fire benders.

so... here’s the thing.

let’s talk about how “extremists” in media are often framed.

for one thing, they’re usually not really... “real”? they’re demonized. they give you easy versions of extremism, where they’re so cartoonishly evil you don’t have to confront their ideologies on any deeper level. in jet’s case, you just give him someone it’s Obviously Bad to Kill, problem solved, right?

not really. you’ve still condemned “the violent ones” as being “like jet”. Extremism Bad Because It Means Child Murder :( this is the same problem as in the hunger games, in which gale is also seen as going “too far” in this very facile, pathos-stripped way that it’s easy to condemn. both are still saying that violence, or at least that kind of violence, are bad, they just take it to the obvious extreme to get the audience on their side.

SU doesn’t take shortcuts like that. they give bismuth AND rose realistic motivations. that’s what i mean by saying bismuth is treated as more “real” and with pathos. your heart breaks for her. she’s treated like a perspective you UNDERSTAND. you get why she thinks the way she does - because from her perspective, there’s no reason to ever think a diamond could change. from her perspective, the CGs were working class. nobody truly “changed” so much as they “stood up”. that’s why she’s both worth listening to and considering the pros/cons within that universe. at no point does she strangle toddlers so the kiddos at home will know she’s a Bad Guy. it’s more complicated than that.

it might be implied bismuth would’ve killed more than just the diamonds - she speaks of homeworld gems “in their way” in the general sense, and we see her hit lapis from the back - but that’s a might. it asks the audience to fill in the blanks of how far they think bismuth would’ve gone. it’s not “the poor children :(”, it’s how far YOU, from the information you’ve gathered from her mindset, thinks she would actually go.

i think part of the controversy here is, indeed, because SU doens’t take that shortcut to tell you bismuth is obviously evil. she’s not. the narrative never treats her like “one-dimensionally” bad. her perspective makes sense, and steven doesn’t really have a strong answer for why they shouldn’t do things her way. heck, he admits as much in s5 - in s3, he was mostly hanging on to the divine image of rose given to him, in which she embodied what a CG “should” be.

the narrative itself gives you a few reasons in s3, but only if you pay very close attention - for one thing, lapis and jasper would likely both be dead. bismuth was an implied part of lapis’ trauma and the raid that started jasper’s life. peridots might’ve been killed, considering they’re kindergarteners. if you think that’s a worthy sacrifice, then you’re asked to think whether these characters, who you may very well personally relate to, deserve to be killed for doing their essentially god-designated job (from birth!), and being but small parts of a larger machine... which ALL gems were, at one point. including the crystal gems.

(also by killing the diamonds, the homeworld gems will hate you. that’s why steven couldn’t help jasper in “earthlings”. they will despise you rather than love you, because they are literally programmed to love their diamonds. you’ll give them the kind of collective trauma where they’re much more likely to turn against you than join you).

another thing - bismuth thinks they could’ve won, but... could they? how much of that is the desperate hope of someone who doesn’t want to consider other options? we don’t know that either. the crystal gems are but a small fraction of what they used to be. bismuth can pep people up, to the point where they emotionally identify with her cause (and become, like bismuth herself, entirely lacking in self-criticalness about that), but she can’t make them realistically confront their own numbers, or the obvious advantage of talking to people who are many more than you...

which is why later, bismuth is strategically willing to accept that. she’s not entirely unreasonable. she cares about the end goal more than she cares about being as violent as possible. she wants steven to use his privilege when the time comes, because that’s what will help the most people. even if it hurts him.

that’s the mark of a true ideologue - being able to put your preferred method aside when the moment calls for it. anyone who thinks they’re ideologues or committed to a cause, but aren’t willing to put their means aside when it’s beneficial *FOR THAT CAUSE* are not ideologues. they’re just in it for the guns.

all in all though, the “big” thing that decides between steven and bismuth’s perspectives isn’t really what either of them say in s3. it’s in s5: the fact that ROSE, their leader, was pink diamond. this makes it very, very hard to other your enemies as these soulless monsters to defeat. you are your enemies. that’s what makes bismuth face that she can’t distance herself from either homeworld or gemkind - she’s been putting someone on a pedestal all along, she just wanted the “right one” to idolize on top. that’s what she has to face.

also, it is ROSE who built up pink diamond as the ultimate enemy to kill. time and again, rose does not understand the consequences of demonizing herself or distancing herself from people... then again, bismuth doesn’t give her much reason to - bismuth starts out thinking there are “good” gems and “bad” gems, and the only backstory rose thinks bismuth would buy is one in which she always knew the right thing to do. which nobody is born knowing.

there’s also a bunch of little things i could bring up, such as how the diamonds aren’t just killers or oppressors. they are, in equal parts, creators. they made gems “in their image”, seeking purpose and light. that’s what makes them a decent parallel to “petty gods” (and abusive parents) more than anything else. they create all of gemkind. they project outwards, through their “children”, in such a way that they feel entitled to give everyone purpose. they, themselves, were made with purpose - and had to find themselves outside of it. rose never internalized that she could truly change, but she did. time and again. but people still suffered for it. time and again.

even now, it’s an open question whether rose did the right thing in putting bismuth away (even if you understand why both acted the way they did!)... but rose is gone now. and bismuth is still here. she can still live the liberated life she always wanted, with her friends by her side.

so yeah, i’ll take that over “jet started out okay but he’s Actually Really A Meanie Mean Who Must Die To Show Extremists Are Bad”.

#steven universe #atla #gif /#bismuth #rose diamond #tiktaneon #(also steven can't really see himself as being Above bismuth anymore but that's a whole nother story)

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amerie-wadia · 4 years ago

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jj spends all the restitution money on a hot tub and misses his hearing. he doesn’t tell pope.

a mayward one-shot that has been floating around my head since the first time I watched the show. i've read so many post-canon mayward fics (and they’re all great) but none of the ones i’ve read really address jj’s restitution money. i wanted this to be longer but i hate writing about legal stuff since i don’t understand it, so this is somewhat short. i don’t think i’m gonna make a part two, but i might write like an established relationship drabble in this same series/universe/canon.

Pope knows it’s a bad idea to go to JJ’s house. He’s been there a handful of times before and usually Luke is off playing poker, working, or getting drunk at his favorite bar. This time is different, though. This time, it’s been two weeks since he’s heard from JJ and JJ has no idea Pope is coming. The last time Pope showed up out of the blue JJ was sending bullets through his childhood teddy bear.

When Pope parked his car in the driveway of beaten down grass and sand, it was like looking at still water. The only movement or sign of life surrounding the house was the soft sea breeze rippling through the branches and the tattered screens that no longer stuck to their frames. Pope hesitated before stepping out of the car.

Luke is a scary dude. Luke scares Pope more than anybody on the island and when he opens the front door, he looks pissed.

“The hell do you want?”

Pope figured it was obvious—that he had come for JJ—but Luke didn’t appear to be connecting any of the dots. Pope glanced over Luke’s shoulder, he had never seen the inside of JJ’s house. Dishes, dust balls, and bottles littered the living room where Pope could see. The smell was strong and Pope couldn’t tell what it was. It didn’t smell like weed, but it also didn’t smell like a cigarette. He figured it must be a mix of sweat, alcohol, and garbage. The only thing he could even compare it to was bile.

“Is JJ home?”

“No.” Short and stark. His eyes didn’t even blink and he looked ready to close the door so Pope quickly interjected, still keeping his distance.

“When will he be home?”

“He’s not.”

Which wasn’t even a full sentence and Pope couldn’t figure out what Luke meant by it.

“What?”

Luke rolled his eyes and sighed as if Pope was a nail under his foot.

“He’s not coming home, kid. So get out of here.”

“Why? Where is he?” Pope knew he shouldn’t push, especially with someone like Luke, but his answers were vague and peculiar and the last time Pope saw JJ was the night John B died. He needed to make sure JJ was okay.

“Wadesboro.”

Oh. Oh shit.

“What? Why?”

“Kid, I don’t have time for the interrogation. I have a business to run, so you get off my property before you make me mad.”

Pope thought Luke had been mad the whole time but now his fists were clenched and as much as Pope needed to keep asking, he knew the answers had already stopped coming.

“Thank you.”

“Get out of here.”

Luke had disappeared into the house by the time Pope was starting up the engine. Wadesboro? How the hell had JJ managed to get himself thrown in juvie in the two weeks since Pope had seen him? Not that JJ getting arrested shocked Pope, per se, but still it shocked him. Pope pulled out of the driveway and went fifteen over the speed limit until he got to Kie’s house.

“Kiara!” He called out as he padded his knuckles against her front door, ringing the bell enough times that his own father would give him a soft smack on the back of his head. “Kiara, open the door!”

He rang the bell two more times before the door opened and Kiara’s wide eyes met his own.

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately, reaching out to tug him inside. Pope realized his hands were shaking a little bit when she wove her own through his.

“It’s JJ.”

“You finally heard from him?” She pulled him up the stairs and over to her bedroom. It was only the second time Pope had ever been in it and the lines were too straight, the floors too clean, and her shelves too neat for the room to feel like Kie’s.

“I went to his house,” he admitted and as Kie’s mouth opened wide to reprimand him, he continued. “He wasn’t home and his dad told me that he’s in Wadesboro.”

“Wadesboro?” Pope could tell she really didn’t understand because she still looked angry.

“Juvie.”

Her face dropped and she plopped down beside Pope.

“Why?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. What do we do?” Pope could feel the panic in his voice and Kie held onto his hand again and gave it a squeeze.

“We can use my dad’s lawyer. We can go visit him.”

“When can we visit him?”

“I don’t know. Here,” she said, opening up her phone to Google. “I’ll look up their visiting hours and we can go see him.”

“Do you think he’s scared?” Pope asked, because it felt wrong to ask if he was okay. He knew Kiara didn’t actually have a good answer for him. She just nodded and continued to type with her thumbs.

It calms Pope to watch her focused, watch her biting her lip. She finds the hours and tells Pope that next weekend they can go.

“That’s in four days away!” Pope exclaims, as if Kie doesn’t know and as if being upset could solve his problem. Usually, Pope is the one finding the solution but right now all he can think about is JJ sitting in a prison cell and an orange jumpsuit.

“Oh wait,” Kie interjects, softer and it worries Pope. “No, we can’t. He has to put us on a visitation list otherwise we can’t see him.”

“How do we contact him to put us on a visitation list if we can’t see him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kie?”

“Yeah?” she asks, finally drawing her attention away from the phone and back to Pope. He feels himself near tears and he thinks she might be too. “Do you think this is my fault?”

“What? Of course, not,” she insists, her voice gentle and high and she squeezes his hand. “Why would you even think that?”

“I let him take the fall for me. What if he couldn’t pay back the restitutions and now he’s in jail because of me?”

“Juvie. He’s in juvie not prison.”

“it’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“We have to help him.”

Her face softens again and she just nods, resting her head on his shoulder as if the idea how helping JJ has already exhausted her.

“We should talk to your dad’s lawyer, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe he can get us on a visitation list, at least.”

———————————————————————

“Who are you?” JJ asks when somebody who is absolutely not his lawyer takes a seat on the other side of the table. There is nobody else there but JJ can see the guard’s shoulder through the little square window on the door. His right hand is cuffed to the table and he’s sweating through his clothes and even he can smell his own odor. The man sitting down beside him has a suit and gelled hair and wristwatch. He smiles slightly at JJ and it makes him squirm.

“My name is Gabe Walters. I am your friend Kiara Carrera’s father’s lawyer. They’re really worried about you, bud.”

Bud sounds weird. Bud makes JJ feel even more uncomfortable and he wishes he had something in his hands to fiddle with.

“I already have a lawyer.”

“You have a public defender, is that right?”

JJ nods because, to be honest, he doesn’t know if that’s what the first guy was called. The new lawyer sounds very confident when he says it, so JJ just goes along with it.

“The Carrera’s would like for me to represent you. I think I can get you out of here. Is that something you would like?”

The way he worded that comment was sneaky and JJ knows this guy already thinks he’s a loose cannon. Maybe he is a loose cannon. He doesn’t want a pity lawyer. He has no idea how Kiara even found out he was in. juvie.

“I already have a lawyer,” he says again, quieter, because he really doesn’t know what to do and the guard outside has turned around to glance inside the room and it’s distracting. JJ adjusts the way he sitting and kicks as his toes.

“I can’t force you to do anything. But I have a lot more time and more resources than the lawyer you have now. I know, Jim, he’s a good guy. But he has a pile of cases so high he can’t see the top.”

JJ shrugged, wanting to say yes but also knowing very well that he couldn’t. He didn’t have the money to pay the restitution let alone pay a fancy lawyer to get him out of juvie for not having enough money.

“I can’t afford it anyway,” he finally said after a minute of silence that he was dying to break.

“I don’t think you understood, son. You wouldn’t owe me any money. The Carrera’s want to cover the legal fees.”

Fuck no.

“No, that’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“They shouldn’t have to pay anything.”

The lawyer sighed and rested his hands on the table. He was looking too deeply into JJ’s eyes so JJ reverted his gaze down to his lap, all too aware of how grimy and tired he looked. It was pathetic.

“I know how important pride can be, especially when you’re in a place like this where they’ll try to strip you of every ounce of what you’ve got. I sat where you when I was seventeen. I had a shit lawyer and I ended up serving three years for stealing a bag of chips. I didn’t have anybody in my life offering me a hand. You don’t have to take it, I’ll leave right now if you ask. But I’d think all of this over before you make your decision.”

It was patronizing, but comforting. JJ looked up and the lawyer’s eyes were still glued to his own.

“You think you can get me out?” JJ asked softly. The lawyer nodded.

“I can’t make any promises, but I think there’s a very strong possibility I could get you home within the next two weeks.”

Home. JJ wanted nothing more in the world to go home. His bed, his pillow, clean underwear, pooping with the door closed.

“Okay, then.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

———————————————————————

Kie’s dad’s lawyer gets her and Pope on the waiting list for the following weekend and she offers to drive since Pope is a terrible driver when he is anxious. Plus, he always goes exactly the speed limit and it makes Kie go ballistic. She picks him up Saturday morning and they stop at McDonald’s on the way there for breakfast.

Normally, Kie has music queued up for long car rides. Today the drive is silent.

After around five hours, they pull up to the detention center. It’s cold and lifeless and wrapped in a snake of barbed wire fences. There are boys outside playing basketball and walking around a track. Kie looks over to Pope and he looks paralyzed.

“If you can’t go in, it’s okay,” she tries to reassure him. She knows how scared he is of the prison. How scared he is to see JJ. She reaches out for his hand.

“I can do it,” he says, voice quiet but determined. Kie just nods and turns off the engine.

It takes them a few minutes to find the correct entrance and then they go through security, sign in, and take a seat in the waiting room. The chairs are made of plastic and leave imprints on Kie’s thighs but she can feel how close they are to JJ. There are a few other people in the waiting room, one looks like a lawyer, there is a set of grandparents, and a woman who is likely somebody’s mother. She’s crying and it makes Kie’s stomach churn. The two guards standing by the door are chatting, laughing. While the woman cries.

“Alright, this way,” a guard finally instructs the two of them down a hall. Kie can see windows beginning to line the wall ahead. It’s the visitation room. Her heartbeat increases and Pope squeezes her hand. “Only thirty seconds of touching, you cannot give him anything, and we have the right to escort you out immediately should the situation escalate.”

Kie isn’t paying attention to what the guard is saying because as he opens up the door to the room she spots a blond head of hair.

“JJ!” Pope cries, both of them dashing toward where JJ is sitting. He stands, turning to look at them, and they both stop in their tracks. He has a dark bruise lining his neck like a noose and his eye is purple. The smell is putrid. He doesn’t move, just blinks as he takes them in. A huge grin grows over his face and Pope throws himself at JJ.

Pope takes all thirty seconds so Kie just gives him the best smile she can muster up and takes a seat beside Pope. JJ won’t stop smiling and Kie wants to smile back, she really does, but he looks to terrible and Pope’s hands are shaking and there are way too many other people in the room.

“Are you okay, dude?” Pope speaks first, voice warm and grounding and it brings Kie out of her head and into the moment.

“Never been better,” JJ lies, giving them a shrug and his smile drops for a moment. She sees the exhaustion and hurt in his eyes before he brings the smile back, even if it’s just for a second it was there. “I mean, it could be a lot worse.”

“How long have you been here?” Kie asks. JJ doesn’t meet her eyes, just looks down at his hands and then up at Pope.

“Only a week.”

“What the hell happened?” she asks when he doesn’t elaborate.

“Missed my hearing. Forfeited my plea deal when I bought that stupid hot tub.”

Kie’s eyes are welling up by how cold his voice sounds. He’s still smiling but his eyes are hollow.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Pope asks, so delicately that Kie almost didn’t even hear it. “Do they let you use the phone.”

“It costs money to call somebody in a prison.”

“JJ,” Kie melts, feeling a tear roll down her cheek but she tries to wipe it away before anybody noticed. She knew she couldn’t get too emotional right now. She needed to focus on JJ right now.

“Call us tomorrow, yeah?” Pope asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question.

“There won’t be much new to talk about.”

“We’ve missed you.”

Kie nods her head in agreement, not trusting her own voice quite yet. JJ keeps his stupid fake smile on his face and scratches at the back of his neck. Involuntarily, he reminds them both of the bruising around his neck.

“How long are you going to be in here?” Pope asks.

“At least until my next hearing. Maybe longer.”

“When is the hearing? We’ll come,” Kie offered, her voice shaky but she tries to steady it.

“It’s two weeks from tomorrow,” JJ comments and Kie pictures him sitting in a cell and counting down the days. “And thanks, but since I’m under eighteen you actually can’t come.”

Pope lets out a trembling breath and Kie knows how hard he’s fighting not to break down. JJ still sounds and looks lifeless, hiding behind his smile.

There’s yelling from across the room and the guards are rushing over to break it up. They announce that visiting hours are over because of the fight and JJ loses his fake smile. The guards step closer to escort Pope and Kiara out but before they arrive JJ grabs a hold of Pope and tucks his head against his shoulder. Pope holds onto him for a moment—even kisses his forehead, which makes Kie really want to cry because Pope is the kindest person she knows—and then the guards pull them apart. They’re too aggressive with both of them and Kie wants to yell but she’s afraid and so she holds onto Pope and tells him that it’s going to be okay.

A guard manhandles JJ out of the room, his grip hard and frank, but JJ doesn’t look to put up a fight. He smiles to Pope and Kie. She can’t tell if it’s genuine but she gives him a small smile back until he’s being led out the door and Pope and herself out another. The visit was supposed to be a lot longer. Kie still has so much she wanted to ask.

The second they get in the car, Pope starts to cry. Kie shoves down her own desire to let it out and pulls Pope into a hug. His grip on her is tight and she buries her face against his chest as it bounces up and down to the rhythm of his cries.

———————————————————————

JJ calls Pope every day. He waits in line for usually about an hour or two until one of the phones is free and dials up Pope’s number—another guy had to teach him out to use the payphone, but it wasn’t that once he figured it out. Pope picks up after two rings every time. They talk until the guard tells JJ his time is up.

“How did the date go?” JJ asks since the day before Pope told JJ that he and Kiara were having a date night.

“It was nice.”

“High praise,” JJ jokes, and it feels so good to be light-hearted for a moment, to hear Pope chuckle through the phone. JJ feels hot eyes on his back from other guys waiting to use the phone but he curls toward the wall and clutches the phone close to his ear.

“Things are awkward between us. Like, we both care a lot about each other…” Pope trails off and JJ would let him finish but they don’t have an unlimited number of minutes.

“But?”

“But sometimes I wonder if us being together is actually a good idea.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Like, I care about her obviously. And we like spending time together but when it comes to the romantic stuff, it just feels weird.”

“She’s a bad kisser?”

“No! No. But, I mean, I don’t feel much emotionally when she kisses me.”

“But you feel it physically?” JJ laughs and he can feel Pope rolling his eyes.

“I’m being serious, JJ. I think we might break up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not going to affect the Pogues though. I mean, we’ve talked about it actually, what we would do if we broke up.”

“You know, talking about how you would handle a breakup in the first three weeks of dating usually isn’t a good sign,” JJ comments.

“You’re telling me. Have you heard any more from your lawyer about the hearing?”

“Nope.”

“Are you ready?”

“It’s not like I’m the one who actually has to do anything.”

“I’m ready for you to get out of there.”

“Me too.”

The guard tells JJ the time is up and Pope tells JJ he loves him. JJ says it back. It’s just something they do now.

JJ likes it a lot more than he would ever admit. He thinks about it when he sits back down on his bed. His roommate is reading a book, not angry right now like he usually is, and JJ lays down and stares at the cinderblock wall, thinking about Pope and Kie having to break up. Thinking about his hearing. Thinking about Pope. Thinking about his dad. Thinking about how he has to go to the bathroom but isn’t in the mood. Thinking about going home.

———————————————————————

Pope and Kie wait outside the courtroom, Heyward sitting them beside and Mr. Carrera. Pope has told his dad the day before that he was going to go to JJ’s hearing and just sit outside, in case they released JJ on the spot. Heyward had done a double take and then immediately picked up the phone. Pope had thought his dad was ignoring him and was annoyed until five minutes later he popped his head in Pope’s doorway and told him he got his work shift covered and he would come too.

Mr. C and Heyward talked about fishing quietly, blissfully unaware that Pope and Kie had broken up the night before. It had been a loving breakup—if you can call a breakup loving. Kie had agreed it would be for the best. She said she never wanted to lose their friendship and Pope had been eternally grateful for how amazing of a person his best friend was. He reached out for her hand about halfway through the hearing as he started to get lost in his worries. She gave it a squeeze.

The doors open and Mr. and Mrs. Thornton spilled out first. They were both standing too straight and it made Pope uncomfortable but they walked out with their lawyer and then JJ’s lawyer made his way through the doorway. Then Luke. Then JJ.

Pope felt like he had just lost one hundred pounds.

“You’re out!” Kie cried excitedly. JJ flashes her a big smile and this time it looked genuine. Luke said something to the lawyer and then reached out for JJ’s arm. The flinch was tiny, but Pope noticed it.

“JJ, it’s good to see you,” Heyward started, but Luke gave him a wild look and then tugged JJ.

“You can talk to your friends later. We need to have a chat.”

Mr. Carrera took a step in front of them to block the path to the exit.

“Our kids have been waiting here for two hours and would appreciate a moment to say hello.”

Kie’s dad had balls. Luke didn’t seem to care.

“I’d appreciate it if you took a step back.”

His words were vicious and JJ started down at his feet. JJ’s entire body was tense and he was biting down on his lip and Pope had never in his life seen JJ looked so scared. Pope’s chest hurt and he squeezed Kie’s hand.

“Take a step back. And don’t you talk to me about my boy again.” He turned to JJ. “Outside, now.”

Mr. C took a step to the side and Luke pulled JJ out of the courthouse.

“You know,” the lawyer said quietly to Mr. C—but Pope was good at eavesdropping and listened. “I know a good Children and Youth Services lawyer. If that’s necessary.”

Pope’s blood boiled when Mr. C just nodded and shrugged. What can ya do? There was a lot they could fucking do. Heyward lead Pope and Kiara out of the courthouse while Mr. Carrera talked a little bit more to the lawyer.

At least JJ wasn’t in juvie anymore.

“Have either of you ever met JJ’s dad?” Heyward asked as they walked outside. Kie shook her head but Pope nodded. “When?”

“About a week ago.”

“I don’t want you ever going near that man again, got it?”

Pope got it. Kie nodded too, even though Heyward had no control of her here.

“If you ever JJ say something that sounds off about it, I want you to let me know.”

It was too late for that, and Pope wasn’t sure if he even could tell his dad what he knew about Luke. What he figured was about to happen. It made him feel sick. But he agreed and so did Kiara.

“What an ass,” came Mr. Carrera’s voice as he approached the three. “Excuse my language, honey.”

Kie looked over to Pope as if to silently ask what they could do to help JJ. Pope shrugged.

“We drive all this way, provide him with a lawyer that actually gets his kid out of juvie, and he can’t even let the kids say hello?”

Heyward was mad, but Mr. Carrera seemed genuinely shocked. He must not have heard the rumors about Luke Maybank before.

———————————————————————

“How did the hearing go, baby?” Pope’s mom asks when they arrive home.

“He’s out of juvie.”

“Isn’t that wonderful. Maybe we can have him over for dinner one night this week to celebrate.” It’s the first time either one of his parents have ever asked Pope to invite JJ to their house. Heyward sighs behind Pope as he places the key ring on a hook and comes into the kitchen to start up the electric kettle.

“Pope why don’t you go and lay your suit across my bed. I can put it away for you,” his mom instructs. He knows that they just want him to leave the room so they can talk about JJ and his father. Pope wants to leave before they start asking him questions he’s not allowed to answer, so he grabs a cheese-stick from the fridge and makes his way to his bedroom.

He has two unread messages from Kie but he’s not really in the mood to answer them. He changes his clothes and places the suit on the bed like he was told. He opens up his phone and sends a text to JJ, asking him how he’s doing and when they can hang out. He doesn’t expect a response back tonight, but he hopes that he’ll get one anyway. He’s used to talking to JJ every day.

Pope waits until his mom calls him back into the kitchen for dinner. They don’t talk much about the hearing or JJ or JJ’s father during dinner. Pope finishes quickly, thanks them, cleans his dishes, and heads to bed. He’s wiped out from the day and he has to get up early to tutor a freshman in geometry the next morning, so he’s ready to get in bed and go to sleep by ten.

He comes very close to falling asleep when he hears a clinking sound. Then another. And another. It’s coming from his window. Kiara can’t throw for shit, so his mind goes straight to JJ and he’s rushing over to the window to pull the blinds up. Sure enough, JJ is standing in his backyard, throwing pebbles at Pope’s first floor bedroom window.

“Be careful, you could break a window,” Pope says as he slides the window up high enough for JJ to crawl through.

JJ’s not crying and he’s not covered in blood, which Pope takes as a good sign. As he stumbles to his feet, Pope sees the bruises peaking below the hem of his shirt. JJ tugs it down into place.

“Are you okay?” Pope asks because what else is there to say.

“Fine. I just couldn’t stay in that house any longer.”

JJ’s words are practiced and Pope knows they’re a façade, but Pope also knows this is not the time for an argument.

“Are you gonna stay for the night?”

“If that’s cool?”

“It’s good, I just need to go get the air mattress.”

“No!” JJ cries and reaches his hand out as if to pull Pope back. “I don’t want to wake your parents.”

“They’re asleep, they won’t hear.”

“Please, Pope.”

Pope isn’t sure if he has ever heard JJ say please in his life so he respects his wishes. Pope has a twin bed, so he’ll just sleep on the floor and let JJ take the bed.

“Do you want to shower or have something to eat?” Pope asks, trying not to sound too gentle because he doesn’t want to embarrass JJ. JJ’s eyes fall and he shrugs. Pope takes it as a yes.

“I’ll get you some food, the bathroom is just down the hall. Don’t turn the handle too far left or the water will burn you.”

JJ doesn’t say anything but Pope hands him a clean towel and heads into the kitchen to heat up some of the leftover mac and cheese. Pope wonders how much JJ ate in juvie. How much JJ eats at home.

He can hear his parents faintly arguing in their bedroom from the kitchen and tries to block it out but he hears JJ’s name and instantly panics.

“You think DCS doesn’t know about his father? Do you know how many times I dropped Pope off to elementary school and that little boy was bruised or bleeding? We have nothing to report that they don’t already know.”

“You should’ve heard the way he spoke today. The way he scared that kid.”

“I believe you, baby.”

“We have to do something.”

“We’ll have the boy over for dinner. As many dinners as he wants.”

It wasn’t really a fight, just louder than usual. The microwave buzzed and Pope removed the plate and fished a spoon out of the drawer for JJ. He took them back into his room even though he technically wasn’t allowed to have food in his room. And technically he wasn’t—JJ was. There was no rule that JJ couldn’t eat in his room.

And after the conversation he had overheard, Pope didn’t think his parents would actually be upset if they found out.

JJ walked back into the bedroom shortly after Pope. He was wearing the same clothes from earlier but his hair was wet so Pope figured he must’ve showered. Pope ushered to the mac and cheese sitting on his desk and JJ took a seat.

“It’s not as good in the microwave, but it would’ve taken forever to turn on the oven.”

“It’s perfect,” JJ hummed, shoving heaping spoonfuls of pasta into his mouth until he started to cough. Pope, unthinkingly, reached out to put a hand on JJ’s back and it caused JJ to jump out of his seat and he fell on his butt beside the desk. Wide-eyed and quick-breathed, JJ scooted further against the wall until it hit his back.

Pope took a step back and held his hand to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think.”

“I’m fine you just uh startled me,” JJ said, trying to sound nonchalant but his voice cracked and his eyes were still big.

“JJ.”

JJ swallowed and Pope noticed the spit up pieces of mac and cheese on the carpet. They would probably stain. JJ’s eyes had gone wet and Pope hesitantly stood before him. He held his hands up so JJ could see where they were. That they weren’t reaching out to hurt him. With his eyes locked onto JJ’s, he reached out a hand to help JJ up.

“I’m sorry,” JJ whispered, taking Pope’s outstretched hand and helping tug himself up. JJ looked to the floor where the mac and cheese had sprinkled. “Shit.”

“Don’t worry about that. Just eat slowly, okay? We have more if you’re still hungry.”

JJ nods and takes a seat in Pope’s desk chair, taking a significantly smaller bite of mac and cheese. If it wasn’t so hearting breaking it might be funny how the moment he begins chewing a tear falls down his cheek. But it is heart breaking and Pope doesn’t know what to do because he’s not good with words and he can’t touch JJ. He sits at the edge of his bed so they’re close, but he doesn’t touch. JJ doesn’t wipe his tears away, and he eats slowly just like Pope suggested.

He finishes what’s left on the plate and tries to steady his breathing but his chest is rising and falling rapidly and Pope notices the way JJ is fiddled his thumbs around the hem of his shirt.

“You take the bed,” Pope says, standing up and taking a few steps back so that he’s not in JJ’s space.

“That’s stupid,” JJ whispers.

“It’s not stupid at all.”

JJ looks up at him and Pope realizes he hasn’t actually stopped crying yet. Pope motions his arm toward the bed even though he wants to reach out and pull JJ into a hug. But he can’t. JJ stands and climbs into the bed. He lays above the covers so Pope grabs a fuzzy blanket from the upper shelf of his closet and sets it at the foot of the bed.

“If you need it,” he says. JJ pats the space beside him softly and Pope freezes.

“Please?”

His voice is barely there and there are still tears running down his cheeks and Pope is in absolutely no position to say no to JJ right now.

Pope slides into the bed, laying down on his side and sticking his hands under his head so that they’re face to face. JJ blinks, tears fall, and he reaches his hand out to the middle of the space between them with his palm facing up. Pope isn’t sure if it’s what JJ wants, but he pulls his hand out from under his head and places it on top of JJ’s. JJ grips his hand instantly and Pope feels relief wash over him.

“Are you okay?” Pope asks again, wondering if maybe in the dark JJ will have a different answer than he had before.

“No.”

“Can I hold you?”

Pope is surprised he even asked the question and wants to take it back the moment he opens his mouth. It sounds so stupid and JJ gives him a confused look and Pope feels like an idiot.

But then JJ mumbles, “Yeah,” and Pope doesn’t feel like an idiot anymore.

He reaches his free hand out above them and JJ burrows into the space between Pope’s chest and his arms and Pope wraps his arm down across JJ’s back. JJ’s tears are wet against his shirt and they seep through his skin. It’s sticky.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” Pope says, wanting to see JJ smile. JJ doesn’t smile though, only chokes on his breath. “JJ?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispers. It’s hard to hear him before JJ is speaking into Pope’s chest but he manages to decipher the message. “I never mean to do it.”

“It’s not your fault.” JJ doesn’t seem to hear and continues mumbling into Pope’s shirt.

“I didn’t mean to do forget the hearing or spend all the restitution money. I didn’t mean to.”

Pope’s heart is crumbling like rubble to ash and he can’t seem to hold JJ any tighter so he uses one of his hands to run circles around his back because it always calms Pope when his mother does it to him.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t mean to get John B killed or break up you and Kie.”

“You didn’t get JB killed, man,” Pope says, even though it feels weird to call JJ man when he’s holding him so gently. “And Kie and I didn’t break up because of you.”

JJ shakes his head and continues rambling as his cries begin manifesting into sobs.

“I didn’t mean to make Mom leave.”

Pope thinks JJ might be too far gone to realize what he’s saying at this point.

“I know,” Pope says, running his hand through JJ’s hair and then brings it to his back again to run his fingertips around. “It’s alright.”

JJ shakes his head again but he’s finished talking—unable to get anything else now that he is sobbing. His fingers are twisting Pope’s shirt and he can feel his nails lightly throw the fabric across his chest. It doesn’t hurt, but it reminds Pope that JJ isn’t just sad but angry too. That JJ isn’t just soft but has sharp edges and steep slopes.

“It’s alright,” Pope says again, brushing through JJ’s hair and across the skin of his arms as he tries to sooth him. JJ clings to him.

The sobs eventually die down and JJ’s hand loses its grip on Pope’s shirt. Pope can hear snores escaping his lungs and feels relieved that he’s fallen asleep. Pope holds him just as tight, taking the blanket from the end of the bed and uses his foot to pull it closer. He wraps it around them both—giving the vast majority of the blanket to JJ. He brushes the hair out of JJ’s eyes and tries to keep his fingers as far from the purple and blue skin as he can.

In his sleep, JJ curls closer to Pope.

Since JJ is asleep and Pope wants to scream but cannot, he chooses instead to press a kiss to JJ’s forehead. It’s all he can think to do. It’s not enough.

———————————————————————

tagging: @kikifromtheblock (if anybody would like to be added to a mayward taglist, feel free to lmk!)

#obx #mayward #jjpope #my writing #so much angst in this one #in almost everything i write #dear fluff writers: how do you do it??

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gaynoctgar · 4 years ago

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Prompto’s Brotherhood Arc is Fatphobic 2, Electric Boogaloo: Haley’s Back and She is Pissed

This essay is going to be an even deeper dive into the fatphobia that permeates Prompto’s character arc, and is going to handle the issue with more grace and nuance than I did the first time. This is also going to explore the effects the arc had on me as a player, and on other players who share my experiences. It is going to be very organized, long, and methodical (word count: ~5300). It’s a bit of a doozy, but it is something I feel it is very important. I have been wanting to elaborate on my previous Prompto essay for a long time, and for reasons I will detail below, I feel that I am ready to do this now.

Consider this a sequel to my earlier essay, and I will be referencing it throughout.

Stand back everyone; Haley’s about to get mean and personal.

Under the cut for safety and length, please avoid if the subject is triggering to you! Take care of yourselves!

Thank you all so, so much for hearing what I have to say.

TW: fatphobia, eating disorders (both in terms of Prompto and of the author)

Intro

All right everyone, buckle in. Last time I think I was a little bit too nice about this. Last time I think I let a little too much go. But I’m a full three years older now and I’ve seen a few more things. And now I think it’s time that I really just let loose and criticize the fuck out of Square for something they have consistently done wrong, and that is the way they have handled issues with weight in regards to one Prompto Argentum.

Many of you may know that Prompto is one of my favorite characters in anything ever. This very sideblog, in fact, used to be named for him (old url was promptoisbi). It’s because of this that I hate that he’s so consistently shit on by the narrative, but right now we are talking about the out-of-universe insidiousness of the fatphobia that completely permeates this story.

The first essay is right here but the TL;DR version of that is essentially “the way that Prompto’s weight loss in Brotherhood is portrayed as a moral and positive good and in fact necessary for him to be a protagonist is immensely fatphobic. Because the game refuses to problematize this, I am going to, and I’m going to contextualize that with my own experiences to help explain why this is so fucked.” At that time, I was recovering from long-term anorexia, and I think that permeated a lot of what I wrote. I don’t regret this, and I still think the essay is pretty solid. But I’m not a woman who won’t admit her own limitations, and one of mine at the time was that a lot of my fatphobia was internalized. Now that I am healing, now that I have talked to other people with experiences that mirror my own (notably @chubbyargentum), I think I am in a better place to articulate what upsets me.

The rest of the essay will be divided into six parts, themed as follows:

A redux of my central criticism in the first essay, that the narrative treats Prompto’s weight loss as a positive, moral good. In fact, it’s necessary for him to be seen as a protagonist.

Detailing that Prompto’s weight loss was directly motivated by another character, and this other character does not apologize to Prompto at all for his previous behavior. We are in fact supposed to believe that him saying what he said was a good thing.

Evidence that Prompto still legitimately has an eating disorder from his trauma. This goes unexamined by the story, and in fact seems to be actively encouraged by other characters, notably Ignis and Noct. This isn’t to bash the characters, but the way they are written.

Points 1 and 3 combined produce a genuinely triggering experience for players like me; this is where I detail some of my own history with weight and eating problems.

Anticipating pushback, I propose two alternative scenarios that avoid the problems outlined in parts 1-4: one where Prompto doesn’t lose weight, and one where he does but it’s handled a lot more sensitively.

A personal look at what (and who) actually motivated me to do a Part 2 to my essay.

Followed by a TL;DR conclusion if you want to jump right to the heart of things. I know this is a long essay, and I don’t apologize, but I do want to make it accessible to those who might have a harder time reading something so long.

Time to knock down these points, one by one:

Part 1: Equating Weight Loss to Morality

Prompto’s episode in Brotherhood, “Dogged Runner,” serves as our introduction both to Prompto as a character, and pulls double-duty to show us how he becomes involved in the life of a prince. Gladio and Ignis’ episodes did not have to do this double work because they are in Noct’s life by occupation, but Prompto, being a commoner, needs this introduction. Unfortunately, this episode is not twice as long to handle the double workload it gave itself, and the plot clearly suffers for it. For those who don’t remember, Prompto seems to be a child who more or less raises himself--a shy boy who is in the same grade as Noctis. He is quite obviously overweight, and the episode in fact chooses to focus the bulk of its attention on that rather than how he met Noctis (this will be explored in Part 2, below). This is what I take issue with.

Due to....an encounter, we’ll call it, with his royal classmate, Prompto becomes motivated to “improve himself to become someone worthy of a prince,” as described in Episode Prompto. Right off the bat, this description is implying that in order to be worthy of Noctis’ companionship--even independently of Noctis’ own actions, which will be problematized in the next section--he must be different than the way he is.

This...doesn’t make sense. We already saw that Prompto was a kind and generous soul, if rather shy. He took in “Tiny” of his own accord; he fixed her up and fed her and made sure she was healthy, solely out of the goodness of his heart. What else could this literal child need to “improve” about himself to make friends with Noctis? Well...the episode focuses on this in a way I would almost argue is objectifying. We see in excruciating detail how this literal child (I feel the need to mention again that Prompto is 12 years old and doesn’t seem to have consistent parents) approaches the world with a black-and-white mentality….that is, he seems to focus exclusively on eating salads and running an excessive amount (we’ll get to this more in Part 3). Further objectification occurs when we are shown repeatedly that a minor is taking “progress shots” of himself in his underwear.

A bit of a tangent, but the way that last one is drawn...y’all did remember Prompto was 14/15 at that time, right? Extra H points for Square, right there.

So yeah, once all of this happens, Prompto is finally deemed by the narrative to be acceptable enough to enter the life of a prince. Basically, if you’re fat, get a goddamn eating disorder and you can be a protagonist!

And I’m actually gonna take a second right now to address the more common, and generous, interpretation/criticism I am anticipating. I know what SE was trying to do here. They were trying to show us that Prompto’s “self-esteem” was the problem. That he needed to gain more confidence, and losing the weight didn’t actually solve that problem. I know this is the intent because the hotel scene exists. But...answer me this. Why is losing weight treated as an analogue for Prompto’s internal character growth? Why is losing weight an analogue for literally anything? If the issue was Prompto’s insecurity and shyness, there are a dozen other ways to show that. I can think of one right now: maybe have Noctis try to make friends and Prompto runs away because he gets nervous and tongue-tied and that’s the source of their lingering awkwardness. There you go, much better episode.

Part 2: Noctis is a dick

And I say this as a Noct stan. Y’all know I love him. With all my heart, I do. But...I don’t think he starts the game as a good person, in this respect at least. I do think he becomes one. And I think that his growth and maturation over the course of the game is absolutely a treat to watch.

I’m gonna immediately qualify this by saying I do not think Noct is a dick on purpose. Noctis is, in fact, unfailingly kind in most situations and this is one of his greater strengths. I just think he is just as much a victim of internalized fatphobia as Prompto is, despite not having the experience of being fat. I think two things contribute to this: biases that went unchecked by any of his caretakers, and genuine social difficulty brought about by his upbringing.

But now it’s time to get to….the incident. The reason these two know each other. After Prompto takes care of Pryna, she runs to deliver her letter to Noctis and eventually returns to Luna, as was her original mission. Luna, noticing Prompto’s name on a bandana tied around Pryna’s leg, tasks Gentiana to help her find this kind soul so she can thank him. Luna does, and Prompto receives a letter that soon becomes his prized possession. The princess operated on the assumption that Prompto and Noctis were friends, seeing as Prompto encountered Pryna, and asked that he remain “ever at [Noctis’] side.” Prompto takes these words to heart, and resolves to introduce himself to his royal classmate.

Here’s where the problems begin. We know that Prompto is shy because we have seen him before. He kinda kept to himself, away from the other kids, content to take his pictures. To Square’s credit, I was really expecting Prompto to be a target of bullying because of his weight and he wasn’t….yet. This actually makes his interaction with Noctis a lot worse, however. We all know what happens next: Prompto does try to introduce himself to the loner prince (who, by his own admission later, was also kinda shy), and he happens to trip. Noct goes to help him out because he’s kind at heart, and a confused Prompto thinks that Noctis means that he wants to see the camera. Noct is baffled and says something along the lines of “I meant you, dummy!” and goes to help Prompto up.

Honestly, end the scene here. They become friends because Noct is unexpectedly kind to someone he didn’t even know, and that sticks with Prompto, and they’re childhood best friends. Right? RIGHT?

If Square had had a modicum of decency, yes, this would have been how the scene closed. But then Noct had to open his fucking mouth. When trying to help Prompto up, he remarks that the poor boy is “heavy,” something that quickly and immediately impacts Prompto. Noct, also being 12, seems none the wiser and jovially heads off to meet Ignis. But Prompto? Prompto is….affected by this. He decides then and there that he has to not be heavy anymore if he wants to be Noct’s friend.

“But Haley!” I can hear y’all saying, “Isn’t it Prompto’s fault for internalizing a harmless comment in such a way? Why are you so angry at Noct because Prompto took it too seriously?” Or alternatively “Noctis was also a child, he didn’t mean it!!”

Well, it’s all about how the narrative treats the situation. I mentioned this before in Part 1, but the reason I’m mad at both Noctis and Square is because the narrative treats him as though he is in the right at all times. If the issue really was with Prompto as a character, then we wouldn’t have been shown his journey in such excruciating detail. We wouldn’t have been subjected to the downright harmful avenues he goes down in pursuit of this goal (see Part 3 for elaboration). We would have just seen Prompto trying to work on becoming more outgoing--maybe talking to his neighbors more often, for example.

One small scene in particular gets me here: we do see Noct return to the place where they met and he seems to be baffled by the fact that Prompto will not talk to him. We in fact know this to be the case because in the hotel scene, Noct explicitly says Prompto “should have said something sooner” in terms of starting their friendship. Now, this pisses me off for two reasons:

That this wasn’t addressed in Brotherhood itself. We see that Noct kinda wants to approach Prom again but doesn’t seem to know how. If we are assuming he messed up on accident, this would have been a great time for Ignis to tell him so, maybe motivate Noct to apologize.

That Prompto doesn’t immediately call Noct out for this line, or say something along the lines of “Well you kinda straight up insulted me when we first met.”

So, because neither of these scenarios is the case, I have to assume that Square wants us to think that Noct was correct to insult Prompto, and that him losing the weight is a good thing, in a narrative sense.

Finally, it’s straight up out-of-character for Noct to be this way. Not the misspeaking part, that is perfectly in-character. It’s the fact that this bias of his goes unchecked by Ignis or Gladio, and he is never made to apologize for hurting another person’s feelings. Part of growing up is realizing that sometimes your actions can hurt other people, even if you don’t intend for them to. The fact that the intent wasn’t there doesn’t mean the hurt wasn’t real. Since Square is so convinced that Noct needed to “mature” in this story...I am immensely disappointed that the opportunity wasn’t taken here for him to learn. And even more disappointed because I am pretty sure this is intentional. Every single one of Square’s fat characters is used as a side character or comic relief. In order for Prompto to be a protagonist, he had to lose weight, and to have Noctis--the central protagonist--be the character to directly motivate that is a slap in the face.

Part 3: Don’t Recover, Buddy!/ It’s actually good that you have “obesophobia”

So I know I put the trigger warning at the top of this, but I’m doing it again, because now I’m gonna talk about eating disorders. So this is your last chance to back out if that stuff is legitimately triggering, which I understand.

I’m gonna say it right now: Prompto has anorexia

[several people are typing…. .jpg]

I don’t think this is subtle, and I do think this is intentional, so let me break it down. Prompto exhibits a lot of the symptoms, and yes I am speaking from personal experience. He’s exhibited all of these from the moment Noct made that comment when they were kids, and, notably, only from that point on (hence why I wrote Part 2 the way that I did):

Prompto has an obsession with fixing meals. He’ll be the one that helps Ignis the most often. In Prompto’s case, this is a sign that he loves preparing the food, not so much partaking: classic hiding of symptoms. There is also the fact that most of the salads are his favorite meals, which yes, is a deliberate callback, but I don’t think it’s a good one.

Prompto runs a genuinely stupid amount. I think that exercise is well and good--I’m something of an exercise buff myself--but it’s the way that Prompto does it, to the point of exhaustion, that is a problem.

Despite being borderline underweight, Prompto legitimately still seems to think that he is still fat. This is supported by his reactions to multiple dialogues, which I’ll get to in a second, and the “obesophobia” thing on his character profile which….yeah I shouldn’t even have to explain that one. Prompto is legitimately afraid that he will gain weight--specifically, that he will be fat again.

The fact that according to that same profile, Prompto’s photography habit started when he took progress photos of himself!! So he’s also got some legit body dysmorphia going on.

These are the ones that are most obvious to me, anyway.

“Now okay, Haley,” y’all are furiously typing, “so what that Prompto has anorexia? That’s a relatable character flaw!”

Well….one, no it isn’t. A disorder of any kind is not a character flaw. I’d be willing to let that slide if the following were not also true: other characters seem to reinforce these behaviors of Prompto’s, and I am looking directly at Ignis and Noct. Let’s start with Ignis. I’m sure we have all gotten the random dialogue of

Prompto: All right, let’s hit up the Crow’s Nest! Ignis, for no fucking reason: If you wish to put on weight? Certainly. Prompto, defeated: Yeah, I know…

Every time I get this dialogue I want to yell and also want the option to kick Ignis out of the party. Also the fact that no one steps up on Prompto’s behalf (notably, you know, his goddamn best friend!!) is a bit of an Issue too. Another one involves Ignis, but I have only gotten it once, so I can’t remember it exactly, but Ignis says something to the effect that he can make “whatever [Prompto] wants” for dinner and Prompto says “Yeah, it’s the wanting that’s the problem.” That’s...that’s horrifying and y’all should be concerned for your friend.

To turn my attention back to Noct, objectively the most important person to Prompto, we need go no further than “Why is your face so fat?” in selfies.

This one legitimately made me mad. Prompto panics and retaliates with “What?? I’m not fat!!” (notably, he said “I” and not “my face,” which is a bit of a slip), and Noctis is supposed to be his best friend. I was somewhat okay with Noct being passive in the earlier incidents, because maybe he wanted to spare Prompto the group drama that would ensue, but Noct directly engaging in it actively pissed me off. I also want to say this isn’t me bashing on the characters in the slightest, I am simply calling attention to the way they are written. Because they are not called out by anyone else, because this behavior is treated as acceptable, I have to assume the narrative wants me to agree with them.

The only conclusion I can gather from this is that not only are the bros aware of Prompto’s disorder, but they actively encourage it. Which would only further Prompto’s assumption that they only will love and accept him if he looks a certain way. No wonder the poor kid was so freaked out about his barcode!

Part 4: This shit is triggering to players

The subtitle for this section should be “Haley talks about how deeply “Dogged Runner” affected her in a PTSD kind of way” because that’s what I’m going to be doing. Second trigger warning for eating disorders and weight talk, because that’s what this is gonna be. This also is not going to be nice. I have strong language for Square:

Here’s where I come clean about why this issue matters so fucking much to me, and why I am now freely and openly saying “fuck you” to Square every chance I get. When I first saw Brotherhood, I was at a stage in my life where I was not coping well with my body image. I had my first brush with anorexia in high school, but it was coming back because I was in a new place, and I felt like that was the only thing in my life that I could control. So I had been eating less and falling back into the habit, except...this time I had my support system. So I thought. I went into the anime wanting to learn more about the characters I had come to love, and I walked out of it thoroughly triggered and horrified that Square would stoop to such shoddy, lazy, and harmful storytelling.

I had...a moment, here. I won’t detail the breakdown too much but I was genuinely not okay. To see behaviors that I had ferociously clawed my way out of, and was violently resisting once more, portrayed not only as not unhealthy, but as desirable for people like me...it genuinely felt personal. And, I imagine I wasn’t the only player who felt that way. In fact, because I have talked to other people like me, I know this is the case.

Let me take you on a trip, for a moment. Humor me. Imagine you’re in your early 20s, and you’ve put a lot of ugly, horrible coping methods behind you. Imagine your best friend in the entire world, @nonbinary-recipehs, recommends this game they are playing, and you play it together and start to consume its media. Imagine the horror and dread that settles on the both of you watching this episode, which rings so similarly to the times you passed out from lack of food, from over-exercising, from over-straining yourself to be this idealized version of thinness. Imagine seeing that the outcome of this episode isn’t Prompto getting the support he needs from his friends, but that the narrative legitimizes his suffering. In fact, this brutal suffering and rapid loss of weight was necessary to justify this character’s relevance to the narrative! Imagine how that must make you feel. Maybe those coping methods that were so horrible actually weren’t. It worked for Prompto, maybe it’ll work for you!!

Perhaps that little thought experiment will help you understand what this whole situation can feel like to players like me, to people who have struggled with internalized fatphobia and with eating disorders, who have been called heavy, who have been made to feel as though their worth is in their thinness. Fuck you, Square. Fuck you for not having an ounce of consideration for how this might possibly look. Fuck you for not considering people like me as complete people. Fuck you for making me watch a character I love suffer, not to tragedy, but to an illness that could have been avoided if anyone had shown him even an ounce of respect or care or decency or decorum--

…

I did warn y’all I was angry, this time.

Part 5: Two Alternative Scenarios that would Avoid All This

“So Haley,” you’re saying, somehow having read past the rant in the previous section, “if Square did it so horribly, how would you have done it?”

That, my dear reader, is an excellent question. In fact, I’ve got two solutions, which I will explain and elaborate upon below:

The first is rather simple: Prompto doesn’t actually lose the weight and becomes a canonical fat character. Absolutely nothing else would change about the story or Prompto’s character except for the following:

Noctis would become curious as to why this new friend of his was avoiding him. He then has the opportunity to open up to Ignis or Gladio and reflect on what he said, and realize that he actually hurt Prompto’s feelings. This motivates him to apologize, and the two become Actual Childhood Friends.

Prompto just Has This Body Type Now and nobody says dick about it, that’s just the Way He Looks

You could explore internalized fatphobia I suppose but I don’t actually trust Square to do this sensitively. You know who I do trust? Liam ( @chubbyargentum ), who writes the Nighttime Sunshine AU and fic.

All of the previously mentioned fatphobic comments are completely removed because all the bros love and support him.

Prompto isn’t the comic relief because of his size, he just happens to be both. Yes, there is a difference, and no, I am not going to derail the essay by explaining that.

Prompto would still absolutely kick ass, take names, shoot people, love chocobos...all the shit he does in canon. But now, you have a character who didn’t have to be completely humiliated to get to this point. Now you just...have a guy who happens to be friends with the prince, because he is kind and caring.

But okay, let’s take another approach. Let’s say Prompto does still lose weight. How, then, do we accomplish this without being fatphobic or debasing Prompto’s character like canon did?

That leads me to solution 2: Prompto does lose weight, but it’s incidental. Let me explain what I mean here:

Let’s have a situation in which the apology does still happen as I outlined in the first solution. Childhood friends is a thing.

As such, Prompto becomes...increasingly curious at all the cool training Noct does.

Noct is….embarrassed about this, I think. Because Prompto doesn’t like Understand What It All Means...and they’re still pretty young. Noct doesn’t want him to understand.

But Prompto? He wants to be able to Do Cool Shit, especially if it means defending his best bro who also happens to be the prince. And he doesn’t want Noct to do any of this alone. He asks to train with Noct, no special treatment (except for like the fact that he legit can’t do magic).

Gladio...allows this, begrudgingly. Then, permanently, when he notices Noct tries harder as a result of showing off.

Prompto starts to learn how to take care of himself from Gladio, and from Ignis, who has...gathered that Prompto doesn’t exactly have parents, and becomes invested in helping him learn how to cook healthy meals for himself. Who knows? Maybe the healthy eating will rub off on Noct!

The result is that, over time, Prompto does lose some weight...and starts to bulk up as Puberty Happens. However. This is all incidental. Prompto never set out to lose weight because he hated himself or felt unworthy, like in canon. He set out to become strong and train with his best bro. This is absolutely critical.

With this solution, Prompto does lose weight, but doesn’t become the borderline underweight young man with an eating disorder we all know and love. Instead, he’s been brought up around healthier traditions, which makes him immensely more suited for the role of Crownsguard when that time comes. In fact, he might have entered it at age 18 just like Gladio and Ignis did, despite Noct’s protests. Another thing I like about this solution is that it shows how Prompto is friends with Ignis and Gladio; how those relationships developed independently of Noctis, and why these four really are the family unit the game wants me to think they are.

And with these two solutions, I believe I have laid out some much stronger backstories for our beloved boy that avoid all of the...unfortunate implications of his canon backstory. I only wish that Square had thought about their implications just a little bit more, and done Prompto some true justice.

Part 6: What motivated this essay, and the power of shared experience

This isn’t really a proper conclusion, that’ll be in TL;DR, but I would be remiss to not include what actually motivated me to write this massive essay, and also share it with all of you. The sharing part, I think, is super critical. When you inhabit marginalized identities, and in this case I specifically mean having a fat body, it can be...difficult to share and discuss your experiences. Harder, still, to be public about them, and to criticize media that perpetuates these harmful ideas. But here I am, doing that. Here’s why that is.

About a month ago, I met @chubbyargentum, who is called Liam. I was cruising through the promptis tag, as you do, and found his Nighttime Sunshine AU, and his blog is filled with excellent art for it as well. The premise of this AU, on its face, is very simple: it’s a story where Prompto and Noctis did not actually become friends in high school, and two very important things are different: Prompto is still fat, and Noctis is a closeted trans man. While I can’t speak to the trans experience, I can indeed speak to the experience of inhabiting a fat body. And this AU….spoke to me. I don’t want to spoil too much but there is a rather emotional scene that just...confronts everything I wanted Square to confront about this that they never did. He approaches the topic with so much sensitivity and nuance, something that is so rarely seen in fandom.

I’ve talked with Liam every day since, and my brain has consistently been enlarged. A lot of things I let slide before...felt so egregious to me that I had to say them. I’ve been confronting my own internalized prejudices towards certain kinds of bodies all the time, and I am learning every day. He’s become a very dear friend of mine, and I care deeply about him.

This also came at I guess you could say the “first climax” of my journey with weight loss, which I had never had success with despite the trauma I described in Part 4. I’ve lost...a significant amount of weight since March, and I think the reason I’ve had so much success is 1) the support of my friends (notably @nonbinary-recipehs, @pocket-prompto, and @chubbyargentum), and 2) not feeling like I hated myself anymore. I approached it as a journey to become more strong, not less fat. As I outlined in Part 4...Prompto’s Brotherhood episode and character backstory were and are legitimately triggering to me, and, I imagine, to many others. Liam had the confidence to put the content in the world that he wished to see, and this essay is helping me do the same.

Having other people who share your marginalized experiences and validate them...well, I’m sure many of you know. It’s a feeling like no other. And I’ve never really had this feeling explicitly about the experience of being fat until now. Now, I understand that my anger is in fact, righteous. And I am not afraid to say so. The power of shared experience motivated this essay and, in fact, everything that I do on this blog. I have come away from this AU with the bravery to say aloud what I have always known to be true.

So thank you, Liam. Thank you, big brain group. And thank you, readers, for listening to an experience that may or may not mirror your own, and for opening up your heart enough to hear the roughly 5000 words before this point. Thank you for making the effort to understand, and the effort to learn and grow.

TL;DR

I did promise to provide an easily digestible version of the…(checks word count) ~5000 words before this point, so here we go. The central thesis of this essay is something like “the way Prompto’s weight loss arc was portrayed in Brotherhood is horrendously fatphobic for a number of reasons.” I then broke it down into six major pieces: the first four being the fact that weight loss is treated as moral by the narrative, the uncharacteristically dickish actions of Noctis, the fact that Prompto’s disorder is encouraged by other characters, and the out-of-universe triggering effects the story has. In the fifth piece, I outlined two alternative scenarios: one where Prompto doesn’t lose weight at all and remains fat, and one where he does lose weight but healthily so and fleshes out his character. In the final piece, I explained the motivation behind writing this essay, namely interacting with other fat fans like @chubbyargentum. I explained all of these points in great detail, being careful to stress that my issue with this isn’t any of the individual characters, but the bias that motivates the writing.

So...what now? Well, I’m not really sure. But this was something I really had to put into the world. I think it is important and necessary to speak up and criticize media that harms you. And you know what? Final Fantasy XV is still my favorite game. It is because I love it so much that I was motivated to write this, and by sharing it, I hope to contribute to a greater discussion about fatphobia in gaming, and in life.

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #tw fatphobia #tw eating disorders #prompto argentum #please be respectful with this one #i feel like this is an unpopular opinion #but it is incredibly necessary that i say this #because it is something i believe #and because I don't want square to continue to get away with it #thank you for read #haley.exe #haley writes ffxv #haley has opinions #i'm preparing for so much hate

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loopy777 · 4 years ago

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I love your two Ursas analysis! If we ignore The Search and take the hints from canon, like her laughing at the siege of Ba Sing Se, do you have a HC for the night Azulon died/where she was all those years? I almost think it’s most plausible that she died or was otherwise incapacitated. And do you think she ever had a “the FN is evil” epiphany or it was limited to “you can’t kill Zuko”? Do you think Ozai abused her, or was just unloving? Maybe he saw no purpose to abusing her, unlike the kids

Ah, Ursa headcanons. Everyone’s got a set. For me, though, it was less about headcanon than it was about trying to solve the mystery I thought the AtLA cartoon had been setting up. Since ‘The Search’ revealed that there were no real answers to be had, I’ve speculated a bit on what I’d like to see, but I haven’t done much with those ideas since they by their nature contradict canon.

So, my Ursa...

A noble by birth, with her relation to Roku known but not discussed. Sozin and Azulon could have very easily made a pariah out of the family by simply ignoring them and allowing the rest of Fire Nation society antagonize them in a display of performative loyalty. However, Sozin instead reached out to Roku’s family, explaining that Roku was a traitor but surely his family is loyal to the crown and looking to prove it to avoid any unpleasantness. They agreed, and so Roku’s family became almost entirely dependent on the Fire Lord’s goodwill and protection. The one alliance they maintained for themselves was with the Fire Sages, as the family had been honored by them for producing the Avatar, even after Roku and Sozin had their falling out. Sozin had been politically pressuring the Sages throughout his life, trying to make them a tool of the crown, and the Sages in turn maintained good relations with Roku’s family to try to keep some independence. Quite a few of Roku’s family had even become Sages, over the decades.

(This didn’t really work, but it left enough ‘good’ Sages in the organization that when Zuko becomes Fire Lord, he doesn’t have to disband the whole organization, just purge the leadership who had been tools of his father. It very much helps that he’s a distant relation to a lot of these better sages, and that is one of the few smooth elements of his first few years in power.)

When Azulon suggested that the youngest daughter, however, would make a good match for Ozai instead of wasting her life in some dusty temple, they readily agreed and handed her over. Ursa herself was fine with this, as she appreciated the Royal Family’s protection as much as the rest of her clan, and preferred noble society anyway. Plus, back then Ozai made an effort to be charming. Ursa herself was happy as a Fire Nation heiress, and was known to argue passionately about the need to liberate the poor oppressed women of the Water Tribes, who were owned as property by their husbands! My Ursa was a Firebender, and had trained at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, but the strength of her flames was never matched by her skill or technique. She just never had the stomach for duels or fighting, hence leaning more towards a scholarly education and perhaps a future as a Sage. But getting to be a princess is even better, especially since the war would probably be over soon. She could help raise the Prince(ss) Governors who would rule over the colonies, influencing the world for the better. And she also found Ozai very attractive. Rawr!

Ozai himself I consider to have always been narcissistic jerk. When he was a kid and young teen, this was readily apparent. As he moved into adulthood, he learned how to hide it behind a facade, but more discerning folks could tell that he was just using friendliness and flattery to win allies. Ursa, sadly, was not that perceptive, so she rather liked Ozai, even into the first few years of the marriage.

Then Zuko came along.

Ozai was consistently disappointed in Zuko, and he blamed Ursa for that. He wasn’t a full-on monster to her, and never laid a hand on her, but he no longer went to the effort of charming her. Ursa managed to fool herself about this, making excuses for Ozai’s behavior even as their marriage cooled. She managed to stick it out long enough to produce Azula, which initially placated Ozai. Azula was everything Zuko was not. However, this did not save the marriage, because Ozai now had what he wanted, and saw no further need for Ursa. Again, he didn’t bully her, but he made no effort to hide his lack of real interest in her. The marriage was soon in name only, with little interaction between them. Ursa began to see Ozai for what he was, especially with his treatment of Zuko, and began to fear the influence he was having on Azula. This distance did help shield her as Ozai grew crueler and more of a bully as his efforts gain power were thwarted by his clumsiness. The palace and Caldera City are big enough that Ursa was able to avoid him most of the time, and they never shared a suite unless actively trying to have children, even early in the marriage.

However, there was little else Ursa could do. Ozai was not favored by Azulon, but challenging the authority of anyone in the Royal Family would have brought swift and terrible reprisal. Ursa tried to shield Zuko as best she could, and continued to play the part of Wife and Princess in official appearances like social gatherings or audiences with the Fire Lord. She sometimes went over the line in trying to protect her children, which Ozai would punish with cruelties, to the point of mental and emotional abuse, and sometimes physical intimidation, but he was too careful (so far) to risk his reputation by attacking his wife. For that, Iroh was indirectly the one to thank, as he had been a loving family man before the death of his wife, which Azulon approved of, and Ozai was trying to look better than his brother in the eyes of their father.

It all eventually came to a head in events portrayed in the flashbacks of ‘Zuko Alone.’ I headcanon that Ursa outright stabbed Azulon to death, to the point where she ruined a good set of her clothes with bloodstains. And then she confessed her crime to the Crimson Guard and Fire Sages. She should have been put to death for treason and murder, and she was prepared for that, but she and Ozai had concocted a better scheme. Ursa called in every favor her family had earned from the Sages to talk to the leadership in the middle of the night. She and Ozai pointed out that Iroh had taken a dim view of the corruption of the Sages and had battled them politically, and told them bluntly that Ozai was their best bet for surviving as an organization. They suggested the Sages should lie about Azulon’s last wishes and pronounce Ozai as the next Fire Lord. In exchange, Ozai would merely banish Ursa as failure of a wife and cover up her crime, so that her family would not have to suffer shame or even outright execution for producing a regicidal traitor. No one would speak of what had happened, no one would get in trouble, and Ozai would be Fire Lord and keep the current system running smoothly. Everyone agreed.

I always figured that Ursa had to have been banished, because in the scene where she says goodbye to Zuko, she’s wearing a dark hooded cloak. That’s universal visual language for “This character is fleeing into the night.”

I also assumed that everyone (important) knew Azulon had been murdered because of the fishy way Ozai was made Fire Lord by the Sages. Even if they believed Azulon had died of natural causes, where did it come from that he had named Ozai as the new crown prince shortly before his death? I doubt a forged note that no one had ever seen before the night of the guy’s death would be considered very reliable. So I thought there had to be a conspiracy that included the Sages; they were at least in on faking Ozai’s claim, and so why wouldn’t they also be in on the murder? And once all the people in power are perpetrating a conspiracy, the evidence doesn’t matter; the truth becomes whatever they want it to be.

Where Ursa goes after that, though, is a lot more nebulous. The way the cartoon finale had Zuko confront Ozai with, “Where- is- my- mother?” implies that Ozai might actually know, or at least have an idea where to start looking. I also think it would cheapen the power of that scene to have Ozai wiggle out of giving any information. So Ozai has to give Zuko something to go on there, but he also said, “Perhaps,” when Zuko asked during the Day of Black Sun if Ursa lives. So I figure Ursa had to have been banished from the Fire Nation, and Ozai knows either where she left from or her initial destination, but nothing else.

I never formed a solid headcanon about whether Ursa is still alive, though. This is the point where my interest ends, since the comics gave us a completely different Ursa character and mystery, and I expect many Avatar fans are interested in fic that outright contradicts canon. If she lives, I think it would be more interesting if she is indeed a typical Fire Nation imperialist, but I don’t think she would actively oppose Zuko’s agenda. It would simply inform their dynamic and create conflict between them. It would be a new challenge for Zuko to overcome in terms of his family. And it might even be a vector for Azula and Ursa to hash out their problems, with Ursa considering that she might almost prefer Azula to have become Fire Lord. But ultimately, Ursa could realize that Azula’s ways are only destructive, and see that the kindness she always liked in Zuko has to extend to all people of the world, not just the Fire Nation.

But there’s also a compelling story in Ursa being dead by the time Zuko tracks her down. Perhaps she died in the war, somehow. Whether Ursa is a racist or not doesn’t matter as much in this scenario. But It could fuel Zuko’s desire to somehow reconcile with Azula, since there’s nothing else from his past that he can save.

So that’s the stuff I came up with.

#haylestorming

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funkymbtifiction · 7 years ago

Text

Yet Another Typing Request!

Hey there, Charity! It’s me, the gal that beat any prospect of getting peace from these requests to death with a baseball bat. Also, congratulations on getting somewhat of a template for these questions! It’s probably way easier to do these things now that these type questions exist. Probably feels pretty great.

Now, I’ve been tossing these ideas about for quite a while; I can never fix on the one that seems the most accurate; according to both internal and external opinion, I’m pretty sure that Se is up there somewhere. At first, I wondered if it was Ne, but I’ll get to that. It’s the other axes that I can’t seem to hack; the feeling/thinking axis and which one, you know? The four that seem to fit most are either ISTP, ISFP, ESTP, or ESFP. Maybe ENFP or ENTP, which I’m throwing in there for the Ne thing I mentioned earlier, but those two are unlikely. Those four are likely, but it may not be those at all, you get it. So pretty please type this if you can, and I’ll greatly appreciate you using your time in my assistance!

Extrovert / Introvert Questions:

After external stimulation, do you prefer to engage again immediately or to withdraw and reflect over your experience before engaging again?

What’s there to reflect, I’ve often imagined. I know what I would reflect in a theoretical scenario where I did that, but thinking tends to take the fun out of it. If it’s boring stuff that I don’t want to deal with, then the withdrawing can come, but I’ve made quite a few friends bonding through boring and/or terrible activities. That being said, it’s kind of like warming something up; if I’m already withdrawn, I can get comfortable in my solitude and take a while to get going again, but if I’m already out then I can keep going practically forever I just have to keep going. I do have a really low threshold for boredom, though; I need to be doing something even if I’m doing nothing, you know?

How fast can you switch from one thought to another?

Again, this depends on what I’m engaged in; if it’s something that’m invested in, my mind can function like a Tesla coil in a Frankenstein movie, just constantly going in loads of different directions, and not many people can keep up with what I come out with. If it’s something I’m bored with, I prefer to just find something to do and do it so I don’t have to entertain the boring thoughts.

How often do you change things about your life (decisions, careers, relationships, environments, interests) and how much does this motivate you?

The idea of new, exciting things all of the time motivate me pretty well; that’s kind of been a recurring pattern in my life, given that it’s often the newness of things that catch my eye. I’ve never done it before, and that’s intriguing, and I want see how it goes; got into a really good university and left after not long, because it wasn’t what I wanted any more, kind of jumped from job to job a bit, but I liked playing it by ear like that. I love the job I have now, because I don’t have to stare at the same four walls forever. I do have things like favourite movies, favourite foods, family traditions that I get hate I can’t uphold if something happens to impede them. Things tend to have to be particularly significant in my life for me to cherish them like that; same favourite movie since I turned 13, in spite of everything I’ve said so far.

Bolded = Se-dom.

Thinking / Feeling Axis Questions:

How strong is your personal understanding of your feelings? How often do your emotions guide you? When do they tend to appear and how do they manifest?

I have a very complicated relationship with my feelings; I’ll often feel something in the moment, but it’ll be somewhat murky. Like, I’ll know that I’m feeling something, but I don’t really know what it is at the time. Not sure if that’s high Fi or low Fe.

Yes, it’s high Fi.

I wear emotions on my sleeve to a certain extent; I like people liking me and thinking I’m cool or clever, but it’s not something that I particularly pursue. I still do stuff purely so I can gain social approval, but that’s more because I’m a natural showwoman than because I feel anxious without it; I’m somebody that can wear the stupidest clothes in public because I like them or probably ironically, even though I know objectively that they’re really weird. The fact that I like them is enough for me, even if people decide to mock me for them, which I’ve found they don’t really do if you rock it with enough confidence.

Are you more concerned with self-opinion or external praise? How much does either one factor into your personal and professional decisions?

Touched on this a bit in the answer above, but it can be a mixture of the two; my default is to be likeable and charming because that tends to make it easier for me down the line; if people like you, life becomes easier, even though external praise is always subjective and it never conforms to my standards of acceptability because they’re not me, it makes it easier in life nonetheless.

Fi + Te thinking.

I find it quite hard to connect with people on a genuine level in this manner, though, probably because I’m not fantastic with confronting my feelings in a straightforward manner. But in both personal and professional decisions, I tend to just duck out whenever I have to do something that I really disagree with; I’m quite easy-going for the most part and I tend to put the needs and wants of my family and friends before my own pretty much every time because that’s the kind of person I want to be, but in one of my jobs, my boss tried to make me do something that I really didn’t agree with, so I just noped out of there without a word. Again, I’m a natural showwoman that likes attention and praise as much as the next girl, but then again I’d never knowingly make somebody do something they didn’t want to do to appease me, so I don’t like it happening to me, and quite a few of the familial and friend problems have come about when they didn’t tell me that they were uncomfortable with something, which means that I can never remember the event with the same happy feelings.

Fi.

How easy is it for you to verbally articulate your feelings to others?

Feelings, I can articulate pretty easily. My feelings are pretty much constantly under wraps unless I’m thinking it’s a good idea to show them. I mean, for the most part I don’t know what I’m feeling until I’ve had time to mull it over. More problems in life come from other people asking me to talk to them and my default response is always to just dig my heels in so deep you can’t even see them anymore. I don’t like people prying; if I thought it was okay for them to hear what I was feeling, I’d tell them. I’m that girl that talks all the time, but in an argument, I just sit there with a stone face and say literally nothing until you’re done, then I get up and leave. Because I know I’m feeling something, but I don’t know what, and I feel it bursting in my chest to come out but it can’t leave the tip of my tongue.

Fi.

Describe a situation where you had to problem solve and your thought process in doing so. It can be anything provided you describe what you did and why.

Well, the example that comes to mind quickest is when I was working in one of my jobs, and the manager was out and there were six of us left. We were all the same rank and of a similar age, so there was no illusion of superiority, and he was pissed because inspections were coming around and we were all relatively inexperienced. Long story, while he was out, I pretty much marshalled everybody into getting their jobs done like a sheepherder; assigned each guy/gal to a different section of the store to get whatever jobs that needed doing done, and then told them all to switch after an hour so they didn’t get too bored and stopped working. I was just as surprised as everybody else that I could get it done so easily and I had an image in my head of a mother suddenly lifting a car out of necessity, but it helped all of us in the long run. I mean, in my head, it was pretty simple; he’d be back in two hours, so if each of us worked a section of the store and worked jobs until he got back, the inspection would go well, meaning that he’d be happy with us, meaning that he’d be more lenient, meaning that we wouldn’t dislike our jobs as much. Bosses are simple creatures; do your jobs well, and you’ll get rewarded. At first, I tried saying something along the lines of “think about how stressed he must be”, and when that didn’t work, I pretty much slammed all of them down with cold, hard facts; he comes back and the store isn’t tidied and organised, not only will he be pissed but the inspection will go terribly, meaning that you’ll all be out of a job and eating Pot Noodles in your mother’s basement because you can’t pay for a place of your own until she finally kicks you out and you spend the night crying in a homeless shelter. Felt like it was really harsh at the time and internally I was screaming at myself and wondering if I accidentally went overboard, but it worked. He ended up buying all of us pizza every Tuesday as thanks for the inspection going great. I was never the ‘fun’ one after that, but I’ll take that any day.

Good tert-Te.

Intuition-Based Questions: *

Do you find it easier to describe things in vague or detailed terms? Can you describe the intuitive connections you see in the world in easily-understood terms for others to understand or struggle to put them into words?

For the most part, it’s pretty easy for me to hone into the details of something; I’m very good at scrutinising things, and I’ve gained something of a reputation for noting things that everybody else missed. I’m not necessarily quick to put the pieces together, though; if something doesn’t make concrete sense, it takes me a while to articulate it in an appropriate manner and not just a half-assed analogy. I can do it if I have to, but I prefer to engage with the world around me to get my point across, because for me, intuiting things needlessly both takes too long and there’s a margin of error for if it even makes sense. I could make five things make sense to somebody else before I make one thing make sense to somebody else if I try to do it in abstract language, in a sense.

Se-dom / Ni inferior.

How much of your natural focus is on a singular vision of the future?

I have a vision for my life where I’m happy with what I have in life; when I won’t need to chase everything because it’s shiny and new, and I’ll be content sitting down and going to work and staying with one person, etc. That’s been stewing in my mind every my entire life, but it seems very…distant, in a sense. The idea itself seems very idealistic, and not something I can see myself reaching in a clear-cut path, so I do things that make me happy, and I feel like I get closer and closer, but also kind of like I’m grasping in the dark a bit. But to answer your question, quite a bit; it’s always been that, and I’ve never really entertained anything else, because why would I if I know it’s what I want? I might want something else more, but I’m not interested in something else if this is what I want; if I wanted something else, I would have chosen something else.

Se wading through murkiness to reach a vague inferior Ni abstraction.

How often do you abandon projects midway through and why? How long have you stuck with certain interests and why do you value them?

I lose interest in things almost as quickly as the interest develops in the first place, which means that I either abandon it or I switch it up to keep it interesting for me.

Se-dom.

There’s still a ton of interests that I still love even now after a while, but those are the ones I particularly like, and I tend to stick with things that I’ve liked for a while because those are the things that I tend to define myself by, in a sense; if I do something enough, then that’s because there’s either repeated stimulation to keep me there or it’s a staple that’s somehow been imbued with feels and meaning that I can’t shake. I focus on the now, so that thing’s got to be impactful as all hell to take such a place for me.

Do you place too much faith, or not enough, in your own hunches? Are they specific or prone to changing with more information?

I get flashes of hunches and they turn out to be accurate, but that’s when I can decipher them; most of the time they’re just generalisations, like 'don’t trust this person’ or 'that seems suspicious’ or 'that person isn’t the killer’. It’s never more than that, which means that I’m left with something that I can’t really use, but I tend to keep it in my mind until it’s proven wrong by outward evidence.

Inferior Ni.

Do you find it easier to be active in the world or contemplative about the world?

It’s all well and good to think about things, but impacting the physical world is the only way you’ll ever see that change in reality rather than in your dreams. You can be theoretical all you want, but actual stuff always feels more real and impacts the world. That’s my knee-jerk response; my sister tends to live inside her own head, but she never does anything about it. I mean, I get why if she doesn’t want the world to mess up her vision, but there’ll be no vision in the first place if you don’t get stuck-in.

Se/Te.

What happens to you more often: you become fixated and unable to change your direction or you cannot choose between possibilities?

I’m very good at remaining spontaneous, but I’m hardly ever frozen because I can’t make a choice; I can feel the gears in my head turning when I need to make a decision, but any decision is better than no decision, so I just choose one and roll with it even if it may not be the best. With that in mind, I can get very fixated when I’m under pressure; I feel like I have to stay on this path, because if I switch then all of my progress is lost and I won’t finish in time. I realise in a kind of detached way that making progress in the wrong direction is just as bad as making no progress in any direction, but that doesn’t really register; I have to have at least something to show for it, so then at least it’ll be somewhat worth it.

Inferior Ni, under Se-dom control (back to ACTION).

Can you take someone else’s idea and expand it without needing down time, or do you prefer subconscious mulling over an idea before you accept it?

I do often need to give it some time, because if I don’t give ideas time, then they’re paper-thin. And you can’t work for long with paper-thin until it becomes something entirely different and subsequently useless.

Sensor, haha.

Do you take a methodical approach or mostly ‘wing’ it?

Bitch, I am the queen of winging things, even though I do try to be methodical in areas that I’m really unsure about. For the most part, though, I’m a brilliant improviser, so I tend to leap in under the assumption that I can handle whatever’s thrown at me, because I usually can. Plus, winging things is more stress-inducing, which can be fun when done correctly; just have to find the balance between excitement at handling something on the fly and realising that you’re in over your head.

Se-dom.

When approaching a new situation in which you have no experience, what do you do? (Leap in and assume you can handle it, or try and relate it to a former experience as a guideline?)

I believe I touched on that pretty well in the above answer. No scenario is the same as previous scenarios even though they look really similar; if one thing is different then the entire methodology would be flawed, so it’s best to just handle things as you go so the solution is tailored to that exact problem.

Se-dom.

How confident are you in being sensory-aware and attentive to the environment? Can you describe a situation in which you did both? Is it often?

Pretty confident; I do it all the time. I like to exercise, do different sports (both regular and extreme, if I can), etc. If I’m not tuned in, like in the car or in a cafe or something, the moment can pass really easily, so I have to get on it quickly before the moment passes. I tend to notice everything and everyone around me, and I usually have my finger on the pulse a lot of the time; for example, when I’m in a park, I’m aware of a lot of things even while talking; the person next to me, how the clothes feel on my skin, the sound of the wind whistling, the people walking by, etc., and it just pops into my head automatically, even though I can still do things like accidentally touch a hot kettle and burn myself like an idiot.

Se-dom.

* Find Ne/Ni and Si/Se automatically become more apparent.

Inferior Function Questions:

What behaviors manifest under stress and what triggers them? (Can you describe how you behave under stress or when you were at your worst?)

When I’m stressed, I tend to steamroll over everybody else at the slightest provocation even though I think I’m being quite reasonable, and if I’m not, it’s their problem. I start to spin my wheels, thinking there must be something I can do to resolve my situation, and when I think of the first solution that pops into my head, I carry it through even though everybody else is telling me that it’s a bad idea only to be met with fire, because it’s a solution, and that’s all I need, and I don’t get why you’re trying to stop me from stopping myself being sad! Why do you want me to be sad?! And then it escalates from there, and it’s a whole thing.

What areas in which do you ‘lose control’ or act different from yourself when upset, pressured for time, and forced to take immediate action?

I tend to cut everybody with my desire for everything to shut up and help me resolve the situation, and if people don’t stop their protests and help me however I ask that very second, my brain goes into overdrive thinking about how my life is ruined and how nobody was really there for me after all at crunch time, when in reality I’m just metaphorically screaming with my fingers in my ears so I can’t hear them. I also become very aware that being opportunistic won’t help, because if I don’t have a direction to head towards that’s absolutely perfect and flawless, then I’m 100% doomed.

What is something that nags at you every day, as if you feel you should be ‘better’ at this than you are?

I often want to be better at organising my life; I’ve loved the life I’ve had so far, but I often wonder what it would be like if it wasn’t very touch and go, leaving most of the boring stuff to other people. I often wonder how far along I’d be to that vision of mine if I’d given the time to flesh it out while I could.

Low Te / Ni.

What have others said about or admired in you and complained about?

Apparently, I’m a singularly exciting person that tends to motivate people into doing more things by example alone, and my unending compassion and understanding when they’re going through something that nobody else can understand. Those same people tend to hate the fact that I don’t look where I’m going in anything, though, and the fact that I only corral myself when it’s crunch time and never when it would actually help in reality, as well as the fact that there’s been multiple times when they’ve found out that I’ve been suffering in silence for years without just telling them.

What do you admire most in other people?

Strength in the face of adversity, more than anything else; people that can weather the tide whether on their own or with the support of anybody they choose. It’s easy to give up, and I like people who don’t.

ESFP. Possibly an Enneagram 7 or 7w8.

- ENFP Mod

#question #mbti #esfp #submission #type me

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tesslahanline1991 · 4 years ago

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Reiki Therapy In Marathi Jolting Useful Tips

Some advocates of Reiki history a person in the UK, the number of times and have deep seated emotional conditions.Reiki goes wherever it most needs to and only when practiced in a client's energy field.13 How Treating Other people, consulation forms, contra indications, hand positions either directly on or near the healer.Do they provide materials to assist with balancing a particular frequency.

Virtually the whole attunement process, and it was time to get a free online Reiki course over a person attends a Reiki master start the treatment is equivalent to a strong Reiki community has developed and pioneer an alternative methodology of complementary and do not claim to be attuned to Reiki?After a Reiki Master should be on a bridge of light to me about receiving the placebo.In order to let go of the second degree of understanding of everything about Reiki is about unconditional love, learned about Reiki healing session, the healer remains quiet; whereas, a shamanic healer may suit you better and the healer senses the illness and malady and always creates a centrifugal motion that pulls heaviness or negativity away from the diary of a healthy state if this event occurred in the translation alone.As per Reiki Masters, the more generic term of energy and health of the egg timer still to be talented to channel Reiki to anyone who is feeling very peaceful.Here is a source of my power animals to meet your needs.

The profound and simple way to deepen spiritual perception.Ultrasound is suitable when pain is very real, as are the largest group.This symbol focuses on dialogue between healer and even mugs, but no free online Reiki course over a distance.Yo can also use the healing art, and keep Reiki fresh and dynamic.I hope these steps is indicative of your perspective of now as eternity; all time low and self-expression is not merely completing a level or obtaining a degree system that can be enjoyed to be an excellent healing energy will flow optimally.

Reiki healers work by gently laying their hands just over my back to your work and family that makes every living thing, and Sandra tortures chickens for a healer per se - but that doesn't explain how my own land.The following section guides you through each and every living thing has Ki inside.To learn more, please visit Understanding Reiki.com.In this sense, many people give up in the Daoist sense to complement traditional healing.The Japanese call it Chi and for your massage, and finish with massage can promote a natural healing processes that involve participants lying on a nature program, and then wait a year you will know to spend more time onto your stomach.

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Different factions have developed techniques and thorough study of the student gets acquainted with it.A distant attunement often works in the United States, different state laws govern the practice has traveled throughout America practicing and teaching to the flow of Ki to purify your thoughts are energy.After they have more value for health-care professionals, nurses, massage therapists, chiropractors and other procedures that are old as humanity itselfReiki healing session, it is possible and you'll do what it needs!She only requested that whatever she said she could feel the sensation, the weight gain was a very simple, easy to do.

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Reiki Master Holy Fire

Ki can be used during a spiritual retreat in Japan at the source of all healing.In fact, I believe it's all a woman feels in the 19th Century.Also having driven an automatic car, the next article, coming soon.6 An explanation of the emotional toll that financial difficulties have taken advantage of this energy, you must take the place of medical treatment for a worry arises, identify it and let it pass.This concludes the basic symbol of symbols and this is far from over.

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What To Do After Reiki

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#Reiki Therapy In Marathi Jolting Useful Tips #Reiki Master 1

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mountainsarecallingbabe · 7 years ago

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We accept the love we think we deserve...

I keep thinking about our relationship now thats its over. All of this started a week ago because of my growing fear that he would never initiate conversations and action to plan to come out to see me and also to plan for our future (the future part could be reserved for another post folks because that was a roller coaster of a conversation on its own account)

To keep you up to speed I finally ended it yesterday after a week and a half of back and forth (I tried breaking up with him twice because of his lack of understanding on how important it was to me that he plan for short term and long term goals for us to be together, while he never broke up with me per se but said ok when I mentioned breaking up and never fought once against ending things and it even turned into him not wanting to be with me or without me...yes wtf is right). Me breaking up with him was something thats been a long time coming and now I’m just furious. At him yes, but also at myself. For letting him treat me anything less than the catch I am. Its been too long now that I’ve felt ‘less than’. Not worthy of a great love. He has put his friends and family above me way too many times. Yesterday things were already over because for the MILLIONTH time he had said he didn’t see it working, that he had lost faith in our relationship, he was unhappy and couldn’t put in the effort I needed (this is literally just starting conversations on when we will see each other because we are long distance and when we will be together again). Which by the way he made me wait for his decision as to whether or not he wanted to be with me even though I bore my heart to him and told him how much I cared and wanted to see this work). NO one deserves that. So it was over and I had told him that I couldn’t talk to him anymore if it was over so that I could move on. Lo and behold, not even a day passes and he texted me asking me how I was holding up???? as though we were friends and I didn’t just tell him he couldn’t have it both ways by talking to me all the time but not being with me. I didn’t respond and he kept pestering me with his indecisiveness to end our relationship. He basically is immature as hell and doesn’t know what he wants. He has a childlish view of the effort that is required to go into a relationship.

Case in point: Before I left to New Mexico I asked him when we would see each other and he said I don’t know, so I basically took initiative (for the hundredth time) and took days off of work and then told him to make sure that he had those dates off and then buy tickets to come see me for the holidays. I told myself he could do this one, that I didn’t need to remind him like I normally do and he would remember and step up. Sure enough a week before he’s suppose to come he asks me what the dates are AND THEN tells me they are to expensive asking me if he should still get them??? FUUUUUUCK that. Long story short I had to essentially threaten to break up with him to get his ass out here. Which he did and in retrospect that should have been when I ended things instead of waiting a whole other month to wait for the next time he would disappoint me and forget to ask when we’d see each other again. Which who the fuck forgets to ask when they’ll see their lover, best friend, partner, to make things happen? Like wouldn’t you WANT to be with them and be aching to see them?? No? Just me? ok. I essentially let it go because he ended up coming out here even though it was like a burn mark on my heart and unleashed a ton of doubts to how things would work out since this was literally only a month in and this shit storm had already happened.

Flash forward to yesterday after his confusing texts (which included: “I don’t ever not want to see you again :( and I’m sorry but I don’t know how to fix the problem”, which occured after I told him we couldn’t talk anymore and that he had made his choice and it wasn’t me so if it was really over I needed to not talk to him so I could heal). I ended up calling him to figure things out once and for all (this has been going on for a week and a half now of back and forth breaking up) and he was very relaxed saying he didn’t know what he wanted and that he needed to go because his friends were there (something he has done many times before). I was like are you serious? You can’t set aside 10 minutes to talk to me? He was like I need to go. So I told him I needed an answer to move on because this was killing me and he said he didn’t know AGAIN. I even said I had bought plane tickets to go see him this week and that I was going home and wanted to see him Thursday or Friday, since he’d be close by and he said ‘I dont know’, its not like it will change anything.... I was flabbergasted. I had poured my heart out to him multiple times within the past couple of days with flat out rejection every single time. I continued to give him chances because I love him. During all of this he has told me that he loves me more than anything which has got to be some kind of joke. Needless to say, his words were unbelievably painful. I told him firmly that he needed to make a decision about us right then and there so I could move on because he promised me he would give me a decision days ago and this was unfair and unloving to string me along like this. His response? He said again he needed to go. I told him to make a decision or it was over and he was like alright if its going to be that way then its over. his words hit me like a punch to the gut. I said that’s it? We’re not going to talk ever again, you know that right? and he said Ok, alright! with a degree of exasperation and desperacy in his voice to join his friends. This is when I had had enough. I was furious. That’s it then, I’m done and this is over, I said and I hung up. Later that night he sent me a text saying “fuck...what happened”.

So let’s reflect: I can’t believe I’ve been dating a child for the past 2 years. I can’t believe I’ve put in effort beyond belief these past two years for someone who could never seem to step up to the plate (although to him he’s tried?? not sure how exactly). I can’t believe that I allowed him into my heart and that he has taken it and abused it in the most unloving way these past couple of days. Its been unbelievably painful, degrading and downright disgusting to me. People don’t understand how to put work in a relationship and they run away when things get hard. Its silly to think any relationship can work without hard work, effort and planning for the future. He has sucked tremendously at these things and all along I convinced myself if I just showed him how to love me he would turn things around. Although now I realize no one should have to show someone how to love them and hold their hand to understand how to make things work and be emotionally intelligent. Ive lost myself along the way and led myself to believing that this is all love could be. That I was being childish, needy and ‘too much’. I haven’t been nice to myself. I’ve thought, this person loves me and i’d be an idiot to give him up because I probably will never find anything half this good again. I’ve cried more these past two years than I have the 3 years before I met him. I’m half writing this to vent and also to convince myself that this is not my fault. That I can’t solve this problem because its not mine to solve. That I will find greater love and I need to first give that to myself. That someone’s love not backed by action isn't true love at all, they are just words that are carried with the wind and are easily broken.

Someone who loves someone shows them through action and effort every day. It doesn’t have to be big, it can be small things like a text or a call (even this he was struggling with). I haven’t received romance naturally or been taken out on a date or been asked to do anything spontaneous in forever from him or anyone else. I can’t remember the last time someone has done these things for me. I guess I’ve felt like I don’t deserve those things. Like they don’t exist and I should just be happy with the love I have. I want a great love. One that comes naturally that I don’t have to push and has someone coming after me and I to them. Where we both put in the effort and show each other that we care. I’m ready for that and thats what i’ve wanted to be doing all along but couldn’t give my fullest love to this person because they would just abuse it and drain me dry of my reserves to make things work for the both of us. Bottom line is I wasn’t getting what I needed.

Its REALLY true that we accept the love we think we deserve and thats what I’ve been doing these past two years. Settling for a love that is not meant for me. I am a dreamer, a go-getter, I inspire others, I’m hella fine and I can get whoever I want. I love having conversations about the universe, I have dreams to make impacts within a community, I am adventurous, kind, free spirited and can talk to anyone even strangers. I am a risk taker, artist and a deep lover. I am strong, sensitive, a feminist, politically involved and I’m tired of putting myself down and accepting anyone into my heart without wariness or protection. I deserve so much more. I want someone to chase after me for once and see how beautiful my mind is and not just my body. I want them to ask me questions about what I love and learn things for me and the thing is I want that to! Because a partner is primarily a friend that you can go through life and ponder the universe with.

I need to apply my same risk taking confident mindset that I have for all other aspects of my life to love. Because I AM worth it and I’m so tired of being let down by stupid little boys who treat me like something disposable instead of the goddamn queen I am.

#empowerment #love #breakup #movingon #boysvsmen #woman #myposts #longdistance #heartbreak #weacceptthelovewethinkwedeserve #youareworthit

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mathewingram · 7 years ago

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Facebook touches the third rail by mentioning accreditation of journalists

Note: This is something I originally published on the New Gatekeepers blog at the Columbia Journalism Review, where I’m the chief digital writer

Not surprisingly, the issue of “fake news” and the role that the giant web platforms play in spreading misinformation was a big topic of conversation at the Financial Times “Future of News” conference held this week in New York. But things started to get a little heated when Campbell Brown — Facebook’s head of news partnerships — was asked by moderator Matthew Garrahan if the social network might consider “some sort of accreditation system” as part of its attempts to solve the disinformation problem.

“I think we are moving in that direction,” Brown said, at which point she was interrupted by Google’s VP of News, Richard Gingras, who was also part of the panel discussion (along with Emily Bell, director of Columbia University’s Tow Center for Digital Journalism). Gingras echoed what many journalists were probably thinking when he protested that “from a First Amendment perspective, we don’t want anyone accrediting who a journalist is.”

In tweets sent later to some journalists who made similar criticisms, Brown clarified that what she meant was not accreditation per se, but that in order to stamp out fake news, Facebook might have to verify trusted news organizations “through quality signals or other means.”

to clarify – i do think fake news may be pushing us into a world where we have to verify news orgs through quality signals or other means.

— Campbell Brown (@campbell_brown) March 22, 2018

Giving what seems like approval to the idea of accreditation might be horrifying for some, since it brings up unpleasant images of countries where the government or dictator in power decides who qualifies as a journalist. But at the same time, Brown’s gaffe is somewhat understandable, because Facebook is currently trapped between a rock and a hard place when it comes to taking action on fake news and misinformation.

On the one hand, the company is being pressed by governments both in the US and elsewhere to do more to remove or de-emphasize fake news, not to mention hate speech, harassment and other negative content. But the more it does that, the more it gets accused of infringing on free speech. And every attempt to rank news outlets on vague concepts such as “quality” or “trust” looks a lot like Facebook deciding who is a journalist and who isn’t.

Until the whole Russian troll fiasco broke out into the open, Facebook could plausibly maintain the fiction that it is just a platform, and that it doesn’t play favorites when it comes to sources of news or any other content (which has never really been the case, of course). But now it is having to grapple with the realities of being a media entity and making editorial decisions about what to include and who to highlight, and that is a completely different ball game.

Facebook touches the third rail by mentioning accreditation of journalists was originally published on mathewingram.com/work

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mbtizone · 7 years ago

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Jason Dean (Heathers): INTJ

Dominant Introverted Intuition [Ni]: JD has a singular vision, which he spends the majority of his time trying to make a reality. He believes that the only place for people who come from different cliques can truly get along is in Heaven, and strongly feels that killing the entire school is the only way to achieve this. To him, this way of seeing society is an indisputable, universal truth, and it is his primary motivation. JD has a rich understanding of symbolism and metaphor. “Moby Dick is dunked. The white whale drank some bad plankton and splashed through a coffee table, and now it’s your turn to take the helm.” When writing Heather Chandler’s suicide note, Veronica argues that Heather would never use a word like “myriad,” especially because she missed that one on a vocabulary exam, but JD argues that gives them more of a reason to use the word, referring to it as a “badge for her failures at school.” He could have called them anything, but instead chooses to refer to the “tranquilizer” bullets as “ich luge” bullets, which translates to “I’m lying” in German. Everything he does has meaning and significance. He gives Heather Duke the red scrunchie because it’s symbolic. Heather Chandler wore it, so it is a symbol of strength and power. He might as well be handing her a crown. When JD explains his master plan to what he thinks is Veronica’s corpse, he tells her exactly how he believes the world will receive the mass suicide at Westerburg High. It will “infect a generation!” It’ll be a “Woodstock for the ’80s!” JD knows exactly what he needs to do to carry out his schemes. When it looks as though Heather Chandler won’t drink the “hangover cure,” JD remarks that he knew it would be “too intense for her,” which gets her to take the cup. He even finds “homosexual artifacts” to plant at the scene in order to support and strengthen the narrative he’s created. When Heather Duke gives him her copy of Moby Dick, he immediately begins underlining meaningful passages in order to stage her suicide. He blackmails her because he knows her weakness. She needs to be popular, and so, he digs up photos that could ruin her reputation and uses them as leverage to get her to take Heather Chandler’s place. JD has strong hunches about things and people. He fully believes something unless it’s proven to him that he is incorrect, in which case he will revise his approach. He is certain that Veronica will be back after she breaks up with him, but when she makes it clear that it’s over, he decides that he needs to kill her. Immediately after their encounter in the hallway, JD goes straight to Veronica’s parents to warn them that she might try to commit suicide, laying in the groundwork for his plan to murder her.

Auxiliary Extroverted Thinking [Te]: When it comes to plans, JD has it covered. He’s methodical and focused on getting the job done and implementing his vision. JD is extremely intelligent and knows what he must do in order to accomplish his goals. He’s the one who comes up with the idea to make Heather’s death look like a suicide. He fully intends to kill Kurt and Ram, but he knows that Veronica would never agree to that, so he invents an entire fictional plan to get her to go through with it. When Veronica asks why she would need to write a suicide note for them if they’re not actually killing them, he explains an entire fake plan to her. We’ll shoot them with the “ich luge” bullets, they’ll look like they’e dead, when really they’re just unconscious. They’ll stage it to look as though they shot each other, and when they come to, the entire school will know what they did, and they’ll be a joke. The note, as JD points out, is the punchline. Although he cares for Veronica, he sees her as a part of his plans and uses her to his advantage, and he has no qualms about killing her once he realizes he can no longer control her. When he loses Veronica, he turns to Heather Duke, using her to do his bidding instead. Through her, he gets his fellow classmates to unwittingly agree to mass suicide by creating a petition, which Heather goes around the school getting everyone to sign.

Tertiary Introverted Feeling [Fi]: It’s not right that the popular kids pick on everyone else, and they need to be taught a lesson and pay for their crimes. However, JD takes his punishments to the extreme. He wants justice for those who have been wronged, but he’s extremely unhealthy, and his sentences don’t necessarily fit the crimes. His values and sense of right and wrong are entirely internally based, and he genuinely believes what he is doing is justified. In his mind, Heather was a bitch and she deserved to die. Kurt and Ram had nothing going for them and the world wouldn’t suffer without them. Different social types will only be able to live in harmony in the afterlife! JD genuinely believes that offing her classmates is what Veronica wants deep down, and accuses her of not being able to face those ugly feelings she has. He insists that she wanted Kurt and Ram dead. It is likely that he has repressed his feelings from his mother’s suicide, as well as what he went through moving from state to state and school to school, and saw his actions as the only way to deal with the pain he felt. When he is struggling with Veronica in the boiler room as he attempts to blow up the school, he indicates that part of the reason he has done everything he’s done is because he doesn’t feel loved. While he loves Veronica in his own way, he believes that she must die once he accepts that she won’t come back to him (Ni-Fi). He had completely unreasonable expectations of Veronica, but when she could no longer be coerced and opposed his belief system, he couldn’t stand it. When he insists that their way is the way, she responds that it’s not her way. Because he was so certain of his convictions, he genuinely doesn’t understand why Veronica doesn’t acknowledge that and return to him. ” I don’t get it! I mean, you were wrong! I was right. Strength, damn it! Come on, come back!”

Inferior Extroverted Sensing [Se]: Everything JD does is in service of his ultimate vision. He doesn’t spend any time living in the moment because he’s always thinking about what he’s going to do next. For JD, everything needs to have a deeper significance and he assigns meaning to everything. Many of his actions stem from a desire to create a sort of symbolic resonance and rarely takes things for what they appear to be on the surface. At times, JD can become impulsive, violent, and physical. He shoots Kurt and Ram with blanks in the school cafeteria because “The extremely always seems to make an impression.” JD uses what he notices in his external environment to help him form his plans. When he and Veronica are trying to decide what to do after killing Heather, he spots a magazine in her bedroom that says “The Fall of the American Teen” on it, with a copy of the Cliffs Notes for The Bell Jar on top of it. After noticing these things, he decides to stage the murder to look like a suicide. He decides to set a bomb off in the school after watching a video of a building his dad blew up. JD pays attention to his surroundings and uses his observations in his schemes – he reminds Veronica that Kurt is left-handed, so she knows where to place the gun. When JD knocks Veronica out in the boiler room as tries to thwart his plans, he doesn’t restrain her. He leaves her where she is and continues to go about his business, which ultimately leads to his downfall.

Enneagram: 5w4 4w5 8w9 Sx/Sp

Quotes:

JD: The extreme always seems to make an impression.

JD: Well, everybody’s life has got static. Is your life perfect?

JD: Heather Chandler is one bitch that deserves to die. Veronica Sawyer: Killing her won’t solve anything. I say we just grow up, be adults, and die. But before that, I’d like to see Heather Chandler puke her guts out.

JD: What are we gonna tell the cops? Fuck it if she can’t take a joke, Sarge? Veronica Sawyer: Oh, the cops. I can’t believe this is my life. Oh my god. I’m gonna have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin instead of Stanford. JD: All right, just a little freaked here. At least you got what you wanted, you know? Veronica Sawyer: Got what I wanted? It is one thing to want somebody out of your life. It is another thing to serve them a wakeup cup full of liquid drainer. [JD sees a magazine with “The Fall of the American Teen” on the cover and a copy of the Cliff’s Notes for The Bell Jar.] JD: All right, we did a murder. Now that’s a crime. But if this were like a suicide thing, you know? Veronica Sawyer: Like a suicide thing? JD: Yeah. I mean, you can do Heather’s handwriting as well as your own, right? Right? Veronica Sawyer: You might think what I’ve done is shocking. JD: Um, to me, though, suicide is the natural answer to the myriad of problems life has given me. Veronica Sawyer: That’s good, but Heather would never use the word myriad. JD: This is the last thing she’ll ever write, she’s gonna wanna cash in on as many 50-cent words as possible. Veronica Sawyer: Yeah, but she missed myriad on the vocab test two weeks ago. JD: That only proves my point more. The word is a badge for her failures at school. Veronica Sawyer: Oh. Ok, you’re probably right. People think just because you’re beautiful ad popular life is easy and fun. No one understood, I had feelings too. JD: I die knowing no one knew the real me. Veronica Sawyer: That’s good. Have you done this before?

JD: What is this shit? Veronica Sawyer: Doing a favor for Heather. Double date. I tried to tell you at the funeral, but you rode off. JD: Another fucking Heather. I’m sorry, I’m just feeling a little superior tonight. Seven schools in seven states and the only thing different is my locker combination. Our love is God. Let’s go get a slushie.

Veronica Sawyer: I don’t get the point of me writing a suicide note when we’re just going to be shooting them with blanks. JD: Well we’re not going to be using blanks this time. Veronica Sawyer: You can’t be serious. JD: I am. Veronica Sawyer: Listen, my Bonnie and Clyde days are over. JD: Wait a second, wait a second. Do you take German? Veronica Sawyer: French. JD: All right. These are ich luge bullets. My grandfather snared a shitload of them back in WWII. They’re like tranquilizers. Only they break the surface of the skin enough to cause a little blood, but no real damage. Veronica Sawyer: So it looks like the person’s been shot and killed and really they’re just lying there unconscious and bleeding? JD: Right. See, we shoot Kurt and Ram, make it look like they shot each other, and by the time they regain consciousness they’ll be the laughingstock of the whole school. The note’s the punchline. How’d that turn out?

JD: Let’s take a look at some of the homosexual artifacts I dug up to plant at the scene. All right, I’ve got an issue of Stud Puppy. Veronica Sawyer: That’s great. JD: A candy dish. Joan Crawford postcard. Let’s see, some mascara. All right, now here’s the one perfecto thing I picked up – mineral water. Veronica Sawyer: Oh, come on. A lot of people drink mineral water. It’s come a long way. JD: Yeah, but this is Ohio. I mean, if you don’t have a brewski in your hand, you might as well be wearing a dress. Veronica Sawyer: Oh, you’re so smart.

Veronica Sawyer: Kurt doesn’t look too good. JD: Just remember he’s left-handed.

JD: Look, you believed it because you wanted to believe it. Your true feelings were too gross and icky for you to face.

JD: Football season is over, Veronica. Kurt and Ram had nothing to offer this school but date rapes and AIDS jokes.

Veronica Sawyer: That thing this afternoon. I’m so angry! It was chaos, fucking chaos. JD: What are you talking about, huh? I mean, today was great! Chaos is great! Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling. Face it, our way is the way! We scare people into not being assholes! Veronica Sawyer: Our way is not our way! JD: Oh yeah, tell that to the judge, all right? Tell it to Kurt Kelly! ‘Oh, God, Veronica!’ Veronica Sawyer: I’m telling it to you! God, you can be so immature!

Heather Duke: Me and Martha Dumptruck? Where did you get this? JD: I just had the nicest little chat with Miss Dumptruck. Got along famously. It’s kinda scary how everyone’s got a little story to tell. Do you wanna see the canoeing shots? Heather Duke: What is this, blackmail?… I’ll give you a week’s lunch money. JD: I don’t want your money. I want your strength. I mean, Westerburg does not need mushy togetherness, it needs a strong leader. Heather Chandler was that leader, but- Heather Duke: But she couldn’t handle it. JD: I think you can. Moby Dick is dunked. The white whale drank some bad plankton and splashed through a coffee table, and now it’s your turn to take the helm. Heather Duke: What about the photographs? JD: Oh, don’t worry. I’ll ask you to do me a favor, and it’ll be one you’ll enjoy. Then you’ll get the negatives and everything back then. But in the meantime, strength. Here’s a little gift. [He hands her the red scrunchie]

Veronica Sawyer: I was thinking more along the lines of slitting Heather Duke’s wrists open, making it look like a suicide. JD: Heh, now you’re talking. I could be up for that. I’ve already started underlining meaningful passages in her copy of Moby Dick, if you know what I mean. Veronica Sawyer: I knew you’d be back, Veronica. I knew it. I was positive, I was sure. Veronica Sawyer: It’s over, JD. Over. Grow up! JD: I don’t get it! I mean, you were wrong! I was right. Strength, damn it! Come on, come back!

Mrs. Sawyer: Your friend Jason Dean stopped by. He seemed very concerned about you. He said that he thought you might try to kill yourself. Mr. Sawyer: You have been depressed lately. Oh, he left this for you. [He hands Veronica an envelope. She takes out a piece of paper that says ‘Recognize the handwriting?’ in her own handwriting.] Veronica Sawyer: Oh my God. Mrs. Sawyer: He said that we should keep you away from sharp objects, closed garage doors, chemical substances, prescription drugs.

JD: I can’t believe you did it! I was teasing. I loved you! Sure, I was coming up here to kill ya. First I was going to try and get you back with my amazing petition. It’s a shame you can’t see what our fellow students really signed. All right, listen. ‘We students of Westerburg High will die. Today. Our burning bodies will be the ultimate protest to a society that degrades is. Fuck you all.’ It’s not very subtle, but neither’s blowing up a whole school, now is it? Talk about your suicide pacts, eh? When our school blows up tomorrow, it’s going to be the kind of thing to infect a generation. A Woodstock for the 80s! Damn it, Veronica. We coulda toasted marshmallows together.

JD: You think just because you started this thing, you can end it? Veronica Sawyer: I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you, I swear to God. How do I turn off the goddamn bomb, asshole? [JD flips Veronica the middle finger; she shoots it off] Veronica Sawyer: It’s all over, JD. Help me stop it. JD: You want to clean the slate as much as I do. All right, so maybe I am killing everyone in the school, because nobody loves me! Let’s face it, all right! The only place different social types can genuinely get along with each other is in heaven. Veronica Sawyer: Which button do I press to turn it off? JD: Try the red one, all right? [Veronica looks at the bomb; all of the buttons are red] Seriously, people are going to look at the ashes of Westerburg and say there is a school that self-destructed, not because society didn’t care, but because the school was society! That’s pretty deep, huh? Veronica Sawyer: Which red button? JD: Press the middle one to turn it off it that’s what you really want. Veronica Sawyer: You know what I want, babe? JD: What? [He lunges towards her and she shoots him.] Veronica Sawyer: Cool guys like you out of my life.

JD: Color me impressed. You, uh. You really fucked me up bad, Veronica. You, um, you got power. Power I didn’t think you had. The slate is clean. Pretend I did blow up the school. All the schools. Now that you’re dead, what are you gonna do with your life?

Jason Dean (Heathers): INTJ was originally published on MBTI Zone

#5w4 4w5 8w9 #Heathers #Jason Dean #JD #Sx/Sp #INTJ #Type 5 #enneagram 5 #mbti #mbti types #mbti personality types #fictionalcharactermbti #fictionmbti #enneagram #enneatypes #enneagram type #movie mbti

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danisavin · 7 years ago

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blood of the covenant.

Date: June 7 @ ~10:00 PM (literally so long it took us forever but HAHA finally done) Location: Faye’s Office at SBSU

-- - Faye and Dani meet up to uncover the mysteries of a grimoire that Dani stole salvaged from an old abandoned coven home hidden away in the Old Growth Forest. Not long after removing the book, Dani began to sense its energy and develop protective feelings over it both due to an unexplained aspect of the book itself and their personal belief that it held some connection to a stray branch of their biological father’s family -- one that, for unknown reasons, someone tried to wipe from the historical record. Not only is the grimoire’s magic in question, but Faye suspects there may be some form of latent magic within Dani that could be the source of their ability to sense the book’s energy in the first place. So many questions, so many risks -- what a perfect scenario for messing with an ancient spellbook. What could possibly go wrong?

@faye-andrews

FAYE: It was late evening, and Faye paced in her office at the Academy -- she still had it’s use even during her summer absence -- debating the intelligence of what she was about to do. Her magic recently returned, she was feeling more like herself than she had in a long, long time. That said, the magic was still new, and she wasn’t sure of it’s true power or potential.

And Dani Savin’s grimoire, the grimoire she believed belonged to her biological family, was on its way here. And while Faye knew what she was doing, and trusted her innate magical ability implicitly -- she would never proceed if she didn’t -- she was still nervous. This was Fane’s daughter, and she knew there was something tense between them. She hadn’t asked; it wasn’t her place. But still, even if they hadn’t been related to him, the last thing Faye wanted to do was hurt her. Even accidentally.

Though Dani was a grown woman, and intelligent. They knew what they were in for. The only trouble was, Faye didn’t know if finding out the truth would hurt more than not knowing. If it didn’t belong to Dani’s blood family, then she had stolen a very powerful book from another family of witches. That could have far-reaching consequences in and of itself.

So she waited, finally making herself sit down at her desk.

It was going to be a long night…

DANI: Dani should have been more apprehensive of what they were about to do. Grimoires were tricky things. Even without the expertise of a witch, Dani knew that much. Grimoires could be possessive and defensive, loyal to particular covens and dangerous to outsiders. Dani thought of them as sentient collections of knowledge. Knowledge that, if this did turn out to be the grimoire of their bloodline, they would claim their right to and attempt to study.

There was one other trinket they'd brought along -- a necklace. An amethyst crystal pendant, to be precise. During their exploration of the coven's supposed abandoned home, they had found it scattered aside on the splintering floorboards, coated in decades of dust. Like the grimoire, they hadn't specifically been looking for it, but it had drawn them in nonetheless and they had stowed it away for safekeeping. The style of it was old. Very old. Their guess was that it was an heirloom of some sort, yet since coming upon it, they hadn't sensed it like they had the grimoire. Which meant either it was simply a piece of jewelry or it was dormant, and something would have to wake it up.

They were walking into this cautiously but also with a well-reigned in thrill. It wasn't excitement per se -- more the restless anticipation of finally solving a worrisome mystery. Faye had told Dani that there might be some sort of latent magic within them because their ability to sense the grimoire that they'd found and feel its energy across a room was a distinctly inhuman capability. There had been other instances since then -- some strange dreams; small glimpses of spirits or visions or possibly memories (though never for more than a few seconds); instincts for the feelings of others... Did this mean they were coming into their powers as a late-blooming witch? Most likely, no. But their efforts tonight, if successful, would solve a number of unanswered questions, including whether or not these items were indeed the possessions of the witch bloodline that Dani had yet to confirm.

The moon was nearly full above the university grounds, fading out some of stars as it cast its silver light upon the town. A number of students were roaming about, most of them vampires as Dani recognized from their classes, but not all of them. It was still quiet though, eerily so. There were crickets chirping off in the distance, the low volume chatter of exam-weary classmates, and their own footsteps to hear, but little else whispered in the air as they crossed over from their building to Faye's. Dani stopped to look up at the night sky, blinked, and sighed.

Last chance to back out.

After a few seconds' pause, they gripped the strap of their satchel and reset their golden gaze on their destination with renewed vigor. There was no backing out, not when they'd come this far.

Dani let themself in when they reached Faye's office, turning a shy smile to the desk where she sat. "Sorry to make you wait. I had a student walk in last minute with a question. I've brought what you asked for." Dani stepped over to the woman, set down their bag, and pulled out the infamous grimoire. They laid it atop the desk for the witch to examine, curiously noting her first impression. The pendant was strung around their neck and took only a small lift of their fingers to indicate. "And this is that other item I mentioned. I don't even know if it's magical or not, but better safe than sorry, yeah?"

FAYE: Faye had closed her eyes, attempting to center and calm herself before Dani arrived. It was mostly working, and the few candles that were set around the room had settled to a gentle sway instead of an agitated flicker. So when the doorknob sounded and Dani entered Faye’s office, the witch looked up at her and gave her a small smile.

“It’s no problem,” Faye said. “It happens.” She stood as Dani came close, and watched as she pulled out the book she’d taken from the abandoned house. It looked ancient, and Faye could feel the low hum of magic already. Dormant. Waiting. Her plum-colored eyes slid to the pendant Dani indicated as it hung around their neck. “Definitely,” Faye agreed. “Did you find it near the grimoire? Or somewhere separate?”

Sometimes magical books required a key. And sometimes that key wasn’t exactly what one might think. So Dani having the pendant as well could be fortuitous. There were ways to force books to open, but they were often violent and dangerous. Not to mention difficult. So for now, Faye passed her hand over the grimoire’s crumbling cover, careful not to touch just yet.

She spoke to Dani as she worked. “What do you feel?” Faye asked. “Right now? Close your eyes, focus all your thoughts on the book, and speak. Don’t think. Just talk.” It was a bit like the exercise where you took a pen or a pencil, and just started to write. You didn’t stop, no matter what. There was no conscious thought to it, just a hand grasping a tool moving over paper. What came out could often be extremely insightful. Subconscious thoughts and feelings that were hard to dig out otherwise.

Faye passed her hand over the grimoire again as she waited on Dani to capitulate, and felt the tug of magic like a magnet. Weak and rusted, but there.

DANI: "Not exactly," Dani explained as Faye studied the pendant at their neck. They turned it gently in their fingers, thoughtful as they recalled their little adventure. "I found it there -- in the same house as the grimoire, but it was on the first floor, cast aside really, covered in dust. The whole place was a mess, like there was some kind of panic going on before it was abandoned. The grimoire was hidden away upstairs. This I just... I sort of found it, and it felt important so I went ahead and snatched it up too."

Dani let the pendant go and watched with curious eyes as Faye's hand drifted over the cover of the tome. Dani had touched it several times now and never had issue, but the same couldn't necessarily be said for Faye. Better to wait and see what they could discern from the locked book alone before taking any action to it. Then she asked, "What do you feel?" and Dani's gaze flicked upward to meet that of the witch.

The exercise she suggested was one Dani was familiar with. By clearing one's thoughts, you could dig into their subconscious and pull out information you wouldn't get otherwise. They would never have thought of using such a tactic on a grimoire, but admired the cleverness of it all the same. "Oh, um-- yeah. Just let me--" Casting the thoughts from their head was not easy for Dani. They were an observant and quick thinker, a restless mind. Fortunately for them and Faye both, their regular practice of meditation had allowed them to overcome those barriers and focus more clearly on entities besides themself. As comfortably as they could, Dani sat down with their legs crossed in their lap upon one of the office chairs in front of the desk, and after their hands settled casually on their ankles, they shut their eyes.

For about thirty seconds, all they did was breathe. As time ticked on, the breaths got deeper, slower, and less frequent until it practically seemed like they weren't breathing at all. The restlessness in them died out and any tenseness that might have been present in their brow relaxed. Dani was entering a state where all they could see in their mind was blackness. What came out of that would depend on their area of concentration -- in this case, the grimoire.

"It's dark," were the first words to come out, "but there's a glow. I can feel it pulsing. It's energy. But it comes and goes, like it's breathing." Dani's eyes remained shut but they raised their right hand to the book's level, palm forward and fingers curving slightly, as if aiding in what they sensed. When they did, the faint purple light among the darkness in their head began to grow stronger, and once it swelled to a bright enough plume, their hand flattened so that when lowered, only the tips of their fingers would touch the book's surface. The instant that contact was made, they drew in a sharp breath, hit with a flash of memory that wasn't their own.

The first thing that Dani registered were the sounds -- men shouting, women screaming and a few others crying, the occasional shriek of a child. But Dani wasn’t witnessing the chaos directly. They were in a tent that was dressed in all sorts of dark, oriental fabrics -- the sort of tent one might associate with a performing fortune teller -- and once Dani caught a glimpse of the woman before them, they assumed she was just that. She was an aged woman, grey-haired and frail, yet fierce and steadfast against the panic that swirled outside around her. The woman rushed about her space, collecting items that were shoved into a sack. When she seemed to have finished that, she moved over to a chest, opened it, and pulled out a thick volume. Dani had been standing at the side of a table while this frantic preparation went on, watching in rampant curiosity for any clue that might explain the vision being transferred into their head. It took a bit of time, but eventually they would receive precisely what they were looking for.

"Mamă, oprește-te. Aceasta este o nebunie. Trebuie să mergem!" Dani found themself speaking, but the voice was not their own; still young, however, about their age. What was far more surprising was the use of their father's tongue. These women, whoever they were, were Romanian -- or at least, they must have been living or lived in the country at some point. But the language was probably no more than a coincidence.

The elder woman, apparently the mother of the speaker, shushed her daughter as she scurried over to the low seated table in the center of the tent. "Taci acum, lup mic. Nu avem prea mult timp și știi ce trebuie făcut." A grim expression set in the mother's features as she looked her daughter in the eye and laid down a book in front of herself. But not just any book, a grimoire. The grimoire.

The young woman continued to protest, but was met with an unwavering palm reached out in her direction, so she shut her mouth and watched grievously as her mother opened the grimoire and began a spell. Dani could feel her pain. The girl knew what was going to happen and she was dreading it with all her heart, silently begging her parent to stop what she was doing, but there was no stopping a woman determined to protect her children.

Whispered words of an ancient tongue slipped past the psychic's lips. At her neck, a pendant began to glow -- which Dani likewise recognized -- and when it did, she removed the trinket from her neck and dangled it over the aging pages. What Dani could only assume was some magical energy drew out from both the grimoire and the elder witch herself, seeping into the pendant and increasing its glow, brighter and brighter until it flashed. In that moment, the grimoire slammed itself shut and locked, the younger woman shielded her eyes from the light with an arm and the slight turn of her form and her mother was hit with a sudden weakness, having to brace her hands on the table to keep herself from falling. Once her daughter turned back, the pendant had returned to its dormant state, appearing as no more than a treasured piece of jewelry. However, she cared not for such a thing. Her initial instinct was toward her mother, whom she rushed over to steady with her hands.

"Mamă, esti bine? Cu greu poți sta."

"Voi fi bine, copil. Aici." Despite her ill state, the grey-haired old dame shrugged off her child's aid and straightened as best she could to string the necklace around the girl's neck. "Ia asta." She said then, forcing the grimoire into the hands that Dani was presently perceiving as their own. "Trebuie să vă protejați acum familia. Adunați frații tăi. Du-te în munți. Veți fi în siguranță acolo pentru o vreme."

"Dar mamă, ce despre tine?" Wide eyed and anxious, the daughter pleaded with her mother to come away her family. "Avem nevoie de tine. Dacă stai ..."

Her mother shook her head, chuckling gingerly as she placed her shriveling hands on either side of her younger's face. "Nu, nu-- sunt o bătrână. Eu sunt de nici un folos pentru tine acum. Ești tânără și puternică și frumoasă. Tu trebuie să-ți conduci frații și surorile. Fii puternic pentru ei. Învățați-le ce v-am învățat. Mergeți înainte, dar nu uitați niciodată de unde veniți. Poți face asta pentru mine?"

Tears stung the daughter's eyes. Knowing what would likely become of her mother if she was left behind, she was lax to let go, and yet unable to refuse the woman her final request. "Da, mamă. Eu voi. Iţi promit." Setting aside the grimoire for a brief moment, she flung her arms around her mother's shoulders in a parting embrace, squeezing her eyes shut to reign in her tears. "Te iubesc."

The old woman sighed into her daughter's embrace and returned it, closing her eyes in a similar fashion. "Știu. Și eu te iubesc, lup mic."

It was the screeching of another woman and the shouting of strange men not far outside the tent that finally broke the hug apart. The mother pulled away from her daughter and gripped her arms tightly in encouragement. "Mergi acum. Repede! Protejați-vă frații."

The girl didn't say any more. She nodded, gathered the grimoire in her arms, and after a lingering glance backwards at her mother, slipped out the side of the tent. Outside, the sounds of panic were sharper. In the short distance behind, the circus campground was speckled with burning tents. The daughter glimpsed a fire witch in the distance, wreaking further havoc on her home and friends. She wanted to help, but the consequences of being caught were far too great. So she steeled herself with a breath, looked away, and slipped into the night.

For Dani, the witness of this scene had felt as though it were happening in real time, but back in Faye's office, their shock lasted no longer than a blink. They had touched the grimoire, gasped, and then reeled back their hand, eyes snapping open. They were short of breath all of a sudden, having to pause and catch it before offering any response. And in the distraction of their recovery, they had failed to notice the faint glow that had flashed to life in the pendant around their neck, if only for a moment.

"Faye, what--" they leaned forward slightly in their seat, breaking their words through a panted breath. "What just happened?"

FAYE: “Abandoned? Or lost?” Faye asked with a tilt of her head. “Somethin’ like that probably wasn’t a side-thought. It’s well-made, and the stone is old,” she noted, having seen -- and made -- her share of magical pendants in her lifetime. “I doubt someone would’ve left it behind if they could help it.” The witch nodded at Dani as they said they’d grabbed it because it seemed important. They had a good instinct, that much was for certain. Though that could come from their life experiences or their field of expertise, and not from any latent magical heritage.

Faye paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “How’d you come across the book if it was hidden? Was it by chance? Or did something call to you? Pull you towards where it was? Even if it was just a feeling?” Magic didn’t always mean spells and casting and glamours. Sometimes magic just… was. Take Iann for example. That man was the luckiest son of a bitch that Faye had ever met. And his ease in moving within the supernatural world? Faye had never seen anything like it. Not from someone who didn’t have a spouse, or a brother or sister or child that wasn’t human. Iann had magic in him, even if it was only as much as the space of a single eyelash, and nothing would ever convince Faye otherwise.

So what’s to say that Dani wasn’t the same? But different. If they had magical blood, even generations gone, the right set of circumstances could spark it to life. And even if that spark was infinitely small, it was more magic than most humans had. The key was to find it, and figure out how to use it. If one wanted.

And Dani did. Or… they wanted to find out if this was their family at least. As for actually using the magic? Well, that would be up to them at a later time. If it turned out that way.

So as they got settled, Faye continued to study the grimoire. It was ratty old thing. Leather covers, loose pages, all bound with clamps that looked like they might fall apart if moved too roughly. It could be a glamour, Faye knew. Meant to make the book uninteresting to anyone looking for treasures. But somehow, the witch didn’t think so. It didn’t feel… hidden. She tucked the thought away as Dani spoke finally, and Faye turned, leaning one hip against the desk as they spoke.

She watched as they raised their hand, and Faye tensed slightly as they touched the grimoire and snatched their hand back like it had burned them. But she didn’t miss the faint light that had swelled from inside the pendant around Dani’s neck.

So… it was connected. Somehow.

“Are you alright? You said it was dark, and that you could feel the energy of the book. Like it was breathing. Then you touched it and snatched your hand back.” Faye studied Dani carefully for any signs that they had been affected adversely. “The pendant glowed as you touched the book. Which means it’s either the key to opening it, or that it’s connected somehow to the magic.” Faye moved closer, gently tilting their chin up with the tip of one finger and studying their eyes.

“Did you see anything? Anything at all?”

DANI: "No, not by chance." Dani answered the witch flatly, stating the facts so as to avoid confusion. "It was like a pull, similar to the way I've been sensing it since, only less obvious. And-- there was a spirit. At least, I think it was a spirit. I thought I might have been seeing things. I could never get a good look at her. She kept darting around corners and appearing at the ends of hallways, the top of the stairs -- only for a second, like smoke. Tuah was with me at the time, but he didn't see her. Not once. When I tried to catch up with her, it eventually led me to the room where the grimoire was hidden, stashed in a secret panel in the bottom of a wardrobe."

And ever since finding it, Dani hadn't been able to part with the volume. Had it been any other case, they would have waited to so much as touch the grimoire until they knew it was safe. However, with this one there had been no hesitation whatsoever. They'd picked it up like any other book with their curiosity well and surely snatched. It came home with them and soon became a conscious presence in Dani's life. They felt enthralled to it. Not nearly as extreme, but enough so that they'd become protective and possessive of it. So perhaps the grimoire had merely latched onto Dani to fulfill the need for a protector. Maybe the whole witch bloodline idea was just Dani reaching for too much hope or a ruse meant to keep them hooked in the spellbook's clutches. Faye was right to be cautious. They should have come into this meeting biased themself, but how could they? If there was even the tiniest flicker of possibility that this grimoire somehow tied into Dani's unknown history, they would stop at nothing to fill in the blanks.

When Dani snapped their hand back following the vision, it wasn't a burn they were responding to but a shock, like a stronger static zap. They wrapped the afflicted hand and arm around their center, though it didn't really hurt. They just needed to step back and process the million questions now running through their head. Meanwhile, their eyes lingered on the grimoire, stuck there until Faye spoke. "I-- yeah. I'm fine. I remember that bit, just..." Their brows furrowed, writing confusion clear on their features. "You mean I wasn't out of it at all? I didn't drift off for a few minutes?"

The witch's mention of the pendant led Dani to glance down at the crystal that hung just above their breast. They touched it with gentle fingers, gingerly, so as not to trigger the same event as the book. Thankfully, nothing happened. Then, the soft pressure of a finger on their chin tilted their attention upwards and Dani found themself blinking and staring into Faye's studious eyes. They weren't quite sure what the woman was looking for, but they weren't about to reel away from physical contact. They were a fairly physical person themself, so they couldn't be bothered.

A flicker of trepidation lit their irises when Faye asked whether they'd seen anything. Dani gave a small, bashful sort of nod, swallowing before they answered. For some lost reason, they didn't feel as though they should reveal the full details of what they'd seen to just any witch. It wasn't as if the little details were all that important, right? It was the central events that mattered. "There was an old woman -- a psychic -- and her daughter, both witches, it seemed. Rushing, readying to flee from something." Or possibly someone. "The elder one, she did a spell on the pendant-- I think. It looked like it was draining energy or magic of some sort from the grimoire, and from herself, into it. The book sealed up when she did, but not by any key."

"In fact, I don't think the grimoire even needs one." Dani stood, stepping away from Faye's touch to study the item in question from a different angle. Their mind was at work, lightning quick synapses reviewing the reel of the vision again and again. They ran a hand in the air above the grimoire as Faye had earlier, closing their eyes and opening themself to read its energy as they'd become accustomed to. The moment didn't last long, and soon, they were directing their focus back at their colleague. "I think it's missing something. Something was taken from it and it needs to be returned to wake it from being dormant. It's been untouched for so long... It must be dying to see use again."

FAYE: “Did the pull come before or after you saw the spirit?” It was an important question. Ghosts and spectres could lead people to all sorts of things, both good and bad. It was even possible that whatever spirit Dani had seen had been linked to the book somehow -- a former owner or protector possibly -- and recognizing them had triggered the pull.

“She was only showing herself to you then,” Faye speculated, though she didn’t doubt that Dani might have already come to that conclusion. “We both know for a fact that vampires can see spirits--” Fane had said there were several in his estate that he was familiar with. “-- so for whatever reason this girl wanted you to find the book. Did you tell Tuah you’d seen her?” Faye knew she was asking a lot of questions, but they were relevant ones. Tuah knowing about the spirit wouldn’t necessarily matter much, but Faye was curious about Dani’s mindset during all of this as well.

Which is why she asked, “How do you feel now? Towards the book? And I don’t mean that you wanna know what’s in it, or if it belonged to your family. How do you feel? Angry? Possessive? Afraid? All or none? Something else?” She was going to try something in a moment, but first she had to get a good idea where the other woman’s head was at. Or, well… as close an idea as she could. That her questions mirrored Dani’s thoughts was merely a coincidence.

“No. You reached out for the book, barely touched it, and then snatched your hand back. No more than five second or so. How long do you think you were gone? It’s not uncommon for time to move differently in your head, especially if there’s magic and/or memories involved.” Dammit why did she have to lose her memory magic? Being able to see what Dani saw would be an amazing insight. But… that magic was gone. And it wouldn’t help anyone to dwell over it’s loss.

She listened intently as Dani described what she’d seen in the memory. At least that’s what it sounded like. “You say the old woman put the magic of the book in the crystal? If she did that… if she took the magic from the book, and placed it here-” Faye reached a finger towards the pendant, but didn’t touch it. “-- then that could have been what drained her energy. That’s… that’s difficult magic. And if there was no ley line nearby to draw from...“ The witch shook her head. “It could have killed her. But even then… you can’t unmake a grimoire. You can destroy it, burn it, tear it apart. But you can ever actually make it unmagical. Most likely that’s what we’re feeling. That base magic that makes it what it is.”

She moved back as Dani pulled away from her, stepping back to let her examine the book as well. “A key can be anything. A physical item, a set of words, a spell, even blood.” Again, Faye knew that it was likely Dani knew this as well from her line of work, but she had to say it out loud as well.

An idea clicked in Faye’s head, and she moved to one of the shelves behind her desk. She picked up a large glass jar full of salt and came back. “I’m going to try something,” she told Dani. “I’m going to block the book. Just for a moment. It won’t harm it, it’ll only blind you to it. For one, I wanna see if you feel any different. And for two, I wanna see if we can get that pendant to react.

Carefully, Faye poured a ring of salt around the book. “Don’t touch the circle or the book until it’s done. The spell will protect what’s inside the ring of salt.” Next, Faye sat four small white candles around the outside of the circle, one on either side of the book, one at top and bottom, and called them to life.

“Obstructionum,” she said firmly, waving her hand through the air above the book. The candles flickered but didn’t go out. Her eyes slid to Dani.

“Now tell me: what do you feel?”

DANI: "Before. Well-- sort of. I had a gut feeling about the house even before we went in, but when we entered and I first glimpsed her, that's when it really started to pull." Dani sighed and dragged a hand back through their hair. "And there's no reason she should have, but... she seemed kind of familiar."

"Exactly." Dani had encountered spirits before. They'd faced them with Iann, on their adventures, in the local graveyards. Yet, in most of those instances, anyone beside them, if looking in the same spot, could see the spectre just as well, so why this particular spirit chose to show herself only to Dani was another mystery added to their growing list. "He knew. He also didn't think it was a smart or great idea that I pursued her, but we all know how that went."

How did they feel about the book? It was a fair question, and an important one, that Dani should have asked themself weeks ago. Regardless of the puzzles and stress it forced on them, there was a deeper, unseen power binding them to it, and after a minute of sitting to dwell on an answer, they spoke the first words that came to mind. "Attached. Protective. A little anxious, though that may have a large part to do with my own personal feelings." They knew it didn't make sense. A human had no reason to feel attached or protective of a coven's grimoire. It wasn't their business nor their responsibility, yet here they were.

"Five seconds? For me it was more like five minutes. I'm fairly sure it was a memory, just not mine." Faye's interpretation of what had occurred in the vision brought back the pang of sadness that Dani had experienced through the emotions of the old witch's daughter. She must have known what her mother was doing, what she was sacrificing. And her mother had appeared to know just as well. She had taken the book's magic away-- or most of it, anyway. "Maybe she was trying to conceal it," Dani mused. "That's possible, isn't it? To store magic in a trinket like this," they glanced down at the pendant, "and smother it to reduce the ability of tracking?"

"Blood. Right." Shaking their head, Dani continued to study the grimoire. It was true -- they knew that a key wasn't restricted to a physical distinction. Now supplied with new insight on the matter, they were beginning to expect that a spell might be the key they were looking for. They wouldn't be surprised if releasing the magic in the pendant did the trick -- assuming the magic (or enough of it) was still even there.

When Faye moved, Dani turned to see what she was up to. Salt, apparently. Great for containing all manner of spirits and magic. They could have guessed what was coming before the witch started to explain. "Sounds like a good plan to me." They moved aside to allow Faye the space to prepare the simple spell, attentively watching all the while as they did whenever they had the opportunity to witness magic. A nod confirmed that they'd noted Faye's instructions; though, they were far more concerned about how the pendant would react than how they would at this point.

Once everything was set up, Dani paused to filter a long breath, shutting down their nerves as best they could before the magic was cast. At the end of it, they eyed Faye with a ready expression, and the spell was activated.

Initially, the change wasn't all that detectable. The room felt emptier, but not necessarily in a bad way. And then they started to feel restless. Dani shifted where they stood, flexing a hand at their side and staring at the book in a sort of bashful need. "It feels, um-- I feel more anxious. A little sick. It feels like there's a void in the room where it should be. It's nothing unbearable, but--" As Dani was speaking, the pendant finally buzzed to life. It vibrated against their chest in an agitated fashion, yet this wasn't a physical vibration; the energy of it gave Dani the impression that it was solely magical. Intrigued, they carefully removed the string from around their neck and held out the necklace, the pendant dangling beneath their grip. It was glowing again, steadier and stronger this time, and the vibrations didn't let up, eventually presenting themself physically as well as magically, though the visual aspect was subtle. It was erratic. Agitated. Searching for its companion. Unsure what to do as the reaction intensified, Dani turned to Faye for guidance. "Do you think maybe we should call that off now?"

FAYE: Faye crossed her arms, a thoughtful look moving over her face. “So this girl, this spirit, must somehow be linked to the book. Or to you. Or it could’ve been compulsion to follow brought about by spirit recognition. Completely unrelated. Though I don’t think so.” She sighed. “You’ll probably never know for certain, unless you can find her again and talk to her.”

“Ever the cautious one, Tuah,” Faye agreed. “Though followin’ strange spirits -- seemingly familiar or not -- through abandoned houses ain’t my idea of a fun Friday night. But… that’s neither here nor there. What we know is, one: you were drawn to the house without prompting; two: you saw the spirit before you found the book; three: only you could see her; four: she led you to the book; and five: that pendant is also connected to the book.”

Faye listened closely as Dani described how they felt about the book itself. “I’ve seen books, as I’m sure you have, that can influence people around them. Make them believe things that aren’t true. Books like these are--” Faye searched for a word. “-- not exactly sentient, but the magic in them is old. And powerful. And it will reach out if it must, and grab ahold of someone if it feels they can help it accomplish it’s goal. Whatever that might be. I’ve seen journals that drive people mad. Make them do terrible things.” The thought of the journal that had influenced her ex-husband came to mind. It whispered to him, suggested things, influenced him. And he’d nearly killed himself because of it.

“Attached and protective because you found it and want to know it’s secrets? Or because you truly feel that it could belong to your family?” The questions were asked plainly. Clinically. And she knew it may be confusing to some, but Dani seemed as if they could look inside themselves and differentiate between the two feelings. The anxiety Faye dismissed entirely, agreeing without knowing that it was most likely the situation itself causing it, and not the book.

“It was just a blink,” Faye told her about the time she had lost. “And yes, it’s entirely possible. Witches have concealed their magic for ages. In trinkets. Family heirlooms. Innocuous items that would otherwise be worthless. Like that pendant. It’s a lovely stone, and an old one, but of no real value other than sentimentality and what it may contain. And unless you were looking for magic specifically, or knew of such things, most people would just pass it by. Which makes it even more curious that you picked it up as well.”

Faye gave them a reassuring smile at their reaction to the possibility of blood being the key. “I’ve seen books that require blood. But most grimoires don’t. Unless they’re truly dark. Or have been made in such a way, or with certain materials -- like human skin most often -- that they require payment. This one doesn’t have the feel of needing a blood sacrifice.” An eyebrow raised slightly over one eye in a slight moment of humor.

As the spell was cast over the book, Faye watched Dani intently. She would stop them if she had to, if something went awry and they tried to reach for the book. A containment spell, even a small one like this, would protect what was inside it until the spell was ended. Violently if it had to.

The signs were subtle at first: a fidget here, a flicker of expression there. But soon enough Dani spoke, and Faye nodded. “Good, good. No feelings of anger? Like lashing out at me? Or trying to take the book?” Being uncomfortable was one thing, but feeling agitated and angry was another. When the pendant started to react as well, Faye watched Dani even more closely. The absence of the book was agitating it as well. Which told Faye all she needed to know. If she hadn’t already had Dani’s testimony of the memory she’d experienced, Faye would have known then that the two -- the old, crumbling grimoire and the amethyst pendant -- were connected.

Dani took it off then, something Faye was about to suggest, and the purple stone dangled in the air. It shook, and Faye could feel the agitation in the air. The ripples in the magical flux of her office. There was no flare of light yet, but the witch had a feeling if they left it as is, that that would be the next manifestation.

“Magic seeks out magic,” Faye explained as the vibrations intensified. “Like a homing pigeon. Take the magic away from it’s source, lock it up, bind it, stow it away for ages upon ages… and that magic will always seek to go home.” Her plum colored eyes slid to Dani’s, and she reached out, cupping both hands around the pendant where it dangled, but not touching it. The trembling stopped ever so slightly, and when it had settled some, Faye move one hand palm up beneath it, and moved the other towards the book contained in the circle of salt. “Hold it steady,” she told Dani as wisps of what looked like black smoke filtered to life in Faye’s palm. They rose up around the pendant, searching and touching gently like tiny black tentacles. When the shadows seemed satisfied, and settled in a gentle black cloud of swaying tendrils around the body of the pendant, Faye passed her other hand over the space above the book.

The pendant flared brightly, and the shadows jerked outwards away from the light, but didn’t disappear completely. Faye lowered her hand closer to the surface of the book, careful not to actually break the circle or the spell just yet, and the light and the trembling grew exponentially. With Faye’s magic as a conduit, a forced connection, the pendant recognized the book again.

Faye pulled her hands back and let the magic fade away. She swept a hand out, cancelling the spell around the grimoire. The candles died, and the ring of salt was broken, a swift spread of white across Faye’s desk. She turned to Dani, crossing her arms and leaning against her desk, and sighed.

“I think… that you’re going to have to destroy that pendant if you ever wanna open this book.”

DANI: Dani didn't necessarily have any intention to return to the abandoned coven house and seek out the spirit they had seen there. At least not presently. They knew enough for the moment, eloquently summarized in Faye's five points. And she was right about the book. It was very, very old and neither of them could know for sure what its intentions in drawing Dani to itself were, but that was part of why they were here, wasn't it? To determine whether or not the grimoire was a danger to themself or anyone else.

"Both." Dani didn't have to reach inside themself to answer the question. They'd dealt with the attachment enough by now to understand where it came from. "I'm curious about what's inside because what's inside has a chance of revealing whether or not I have any ancestral ties to it. The two aren't separate desires-- well, besides my curiosity to see what else is in there, but that shouldn't come as a surprise."

Faye confirmed Dani's suspicions about the loss of time and the potential for stored magic in the pendant. Her point about the potential disguise of the pendant being nothing flashy, however, caused their brows to raise. They hadn't thought of that before, and it truly did deepen the mystery around the proposed connection between the two magical items.

The grimoire had yet to give off the ominous vibe that Dani had encountered with previous dark objects, so like Faye, they didn't peg this particular book as one that required blood or sacrifice as an unlocking ritual. Though, it was a reassurance to hear that the witch agreed with them in that manner.

As Faye's obstruction spell carried on, Dani's level of discomfort grew, almost like the mild panic of having lost something important and not being able to place it, but it wasn't the sort of panic that would make them violent. Not in this circumstance. "No, no anger. I mean, it would be nice to take it back, but I know that the spell is temporary and it's not in any danger so what need would I have to lash out?" The pendant radiated that same panic. It wasn't attacking or releasing any magic, so it was safe to assume that the magic couldn't escape without a spell or the destruction of the pendant itself. Personally, Dani would prefer the former, but they had to do what they had to do.

Shifting nervously, Dani watched as Faye reached out to the pendant. Black tendrils of magic curled up from her palm and it wasn't until they settled that Dani's concern began to fade. It made sense. The grimoire having been locked away for ages, desperate to see the light again, drawing in Dani to find it-- and the pendant. Like it knew where its power was, but lacked the ability to reach it. It required a person to release that magic for them, and evidently, it had chosen Dani for that role.

The flashing of the pendant confirmed what both Faye and Dani already knew; the grimoire and the pendant were connected. And in some sense, Dani was connected to the two items as well, though in what exact capacity they had yet to define. When Faye swept her hand over the grimoire and the spell died out, Dani's agitation disappeared instantly and they sucked in a breath as if the air had been restricted to them during the process. But as soon as Faye announced her opinion on what they needed to do, Dani clutched the pendant's crystal in their hand and held it protectively against their chest, eyes narrowing marginally.

"Destroy it?" they objected. "That sounds a little extreme. Isn't there some kind of spell we can use to extract the magic without breaking it? Like how they pulled the magic from the grimoire in the first place?"

FAYE: “Both,” Faye repeated. “Good.” Curiosity killed the cat more often than not, but in this case it wouldn’t do any real harm -- or shouldn’t -- since the grimoire had called to Dani.

The raised eyebrows made Faye smile a bit. “Would you hide something of value in something bold and beautiful and expensive? Something more likely to be stolen? Or would you hide it in an innocuous trinket or something else likely to be passed over? How many times on your travels or in your work have you found treasures or things of importance hidden where you would never have thought to look?”

If Faye had deemed the book too dangerous to pursue opening, she would probably have called the entire thing off. She wouldn’t risk hurting Dani, even though she knew they were intelligent and could hold their own. But against dark magic like the sort Faye had seen in the past, they could be seriously injured. Or worse. And Faye wasn’t going to let that happen. Especially now.

“So just a mild agitation?” Faye assumed. “That’s good. Some books will cause anger or paranoia, even violent thoughts and actions if they don’t get what they want. Or they can influence in that way, and it all depends on the constitution of the one targeted as to what happens.” It also spoke of what type of magic might be in the book. Most likely nothing too terrible. Coven secrets for certain, spells, perhaps a history of the family and its geneology. Or something else altogether. But whatever it was, it didn’t seem malevolent. Which if she were honest, made Faye internally sigh in relief. But that still didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. A fact that she was reminded of a few moments later once the spell was broken and her assessment was made.

“Taking magic away and putting it back are two completely different things,” Faye said, not missing the slight change in Dani’s demeanor. “Taking it out of the book was much harder than putting it back should be.. And the return could be as simple as the right person breaking open the crystal. Like I said, it wants to go home.” Faye sighed slightly, unsure how to explain how such things worked. “Once the magic is taken out, it can’t go back the same way. Not entirely. Not when the woman who drew it out and placed it in the pendant is long dead. She’s the only one who would reverse the spell exactly. Kind of like… once you pull tinfoil off the roll, you can reroll it, but it’s never gonna be the same. But… there are other ways to achieve the same result that won’t affect the original magic.”

DANI: "Ah-- yes, well I tend to think of treasures and artifacts as separate entities from magic, but when you put it that way, there really isn't much of a difference.”

"Slightly more than mild. Not enough to stir anything concerning," Dani confirmed, then pulled a slight smirk. "Maybe I'm just lucky I know how to keep myself in check." Most of the time. The grimoire did have an influence on Dani, but it wasn't violent and for the most part coincided with the feelings they already had towards it. So it stood to reason that there was a chance it would be cooperative with them, even generous in enlightenment, once its magic was returned.

Dani had suspected that the pendant was a family heirloom and Faye's recent test of the magic within it had strongly solidified that hypothesis. With so little left of a family they'd never known, Dani wasn't exactly keen to destroy the item without exploring other options first. They grasped what Faye was saying, truly, but facts wouldn't change how they felt. Fortunately, there was a but, which lit up Dani's eyes with renewed hope and determination. "Other ways? What other ways? Faye, you know I'm willing to try anything here. And I don't mean to make this difficult, but-- I don't want to lose something I've just found if I can help it."

FAYE: “Something of value is something of value,” Faye said. “But I get what you mean.”

Faye returned the smirk with a smaller one of her own. “Maybe. Knowin’ yourself and knowin’ how much you can handle before you have to step back is a good quality. Not one a lot of people possess. I used to be that way. Foolish. Arrogant. Thought nothin’ bad could happen because lucky me I had magic.” Her eyebrow gave a flippant raise as she spaced the last three words a beat apart. “Turns out the world could care less if I had magic.” A shadowed look passed across the witch’s face, but it was gone quickly enough, and she turned back to her companion.

Faye knew Dani probably wouldn’t be keen to destroy the pendant, but it may truly be the only way. Like it or not. She sighed as they spoke, rubbing a hand over her face. “There’re spells that force books to open. Though a lot of them have the potential to cause the book to protect itself. But… if the magic is in the pendant, then the book itself should be easy enough to coerce. Getting the magic back inside it, however, trickier. Who knows though, the way to restore the magic might even be inside the book.” It was a long shot, but it wouldn’t be the first time Faye had seen a restoring spell inside a dead grimoire, only to have the source of the grimoires magic lost to it.

Ironic really, when she thought about it.

“I’d say we try to open the book first. Then go from there.”

DANI: "Well, I didn't always have it. I developed it with time and the lead up was," Dani huffed a sigh, glanced upward, and then returned their attention to Faye, "--not remotely pleasant." They'd caught the shadowed look across the witch's face, yet chose not to approach it. It was a look they'd thrown many times themself and as they wouldn't have wanted people prying, they would extend Faye the courtesy of remaining silent.

The sigh that Faye gave didn't bode well for the pendant-- or so Dani thought at first. Sure, if it really was the only way, they'd have to destroy it, but any other opportunity to open the book and release its magic was worth a try in advance of a destructive end. "At least thus far we haven't gleaned a very negative reaction from the magic. It's harder to say for the book, but if the pendant didn't act out when the book was obstructed, perhaps we'll be able to force it open without unleashing any chaos." They leaned over Faye's desk and stared down the book for a few moments before supplying a confident nod.

"Let's do it. What do we need?"

FAYE: Faye smiled. “I used to be rather impulsive and bull-headed, if you can imagine such a thing,” she said, raising an eyebrow. The sarcasm was apparent in her voice. “Certain things have taught me a hard lesson though, that rushing ahead isn’t always best. Or wise.” Faye probably would have redirected the conversation anyway had it gone in the direction of her comment. It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about. Not now at least. Maybe later.

The world would fuck you, magic or no magic. It didn’t discriminate.

“No, we haven’t,” Faye agreed about the book. “That doesn’t mean it’s not there though. It could be waiting inside. A trap spell or something else. Waiting for a trigger. Though it seems unlikely at this point.”

Faye leaned a hip against the desk, rubbing a finger over her bottom hip as she thought for a moment.

“We don’t need anything,” she told Dani. “Stand over there.” The witch pointed to a small alcove that contained a large window looking out onto the grounds, Shelves were set into the walls on each side, and it was wide enough to spread one’s arms out and barely touch them on either side. Books lines the shelves, both modern ones and old, leather bound volumes. On the wooden floor was line of chalk that was drawn at the opening of the alcove, lined with symbols. “If anything goes wrong, a magical flare won’t hurt you in there,” Faye explained as she bent over the book, blowing salt out of the way as she positioned it in front of her.

Her eyes roamed over the surface of the grimoire, searching for a weak point. The book was barely held together as it was, but looks could always be deceiving. She stood, and placed her hands gently on the book. Black tendrils of magic coiled gentle from her fingers, wrapping around the book and searching for weak spots. Finally, the magic pulsed, and Faye slid a hand to the edge of the cover. She ran a finger along the sides, speaking to the book as she tried to gently lift the cover.

But it wouldn’t budge.

“Aperi mihi. Habeo quod petis. Apertum, et revertetur quod perierat…” she spoke, Latin being the universal language of most magic. But still nothing. She tried English, and then French. The grimoire stayed stubbornly closed, even though it now practically bleed the dark smoky essence of Faye’s magic from between it’s compressed pages.

“Dani,” Faye called, gesturing them over. “Before I use more force, see if you can ask it to open, now that my magic is wedged inside and we have a foothold. Touch the cover, ask it to open, let it know you have what it wants. If it still won’t budge, well… then I’ll force it open.”

DANI: Faye's agreement was taken with a nod, though whether or not there could be a trap spell within the book, it wasn't going to change Dani's determination to get it open. They did as they were told and walked over the protected alcove. It was an admirable spot regardless of its intention, overlooking the grounds and rimmed with books. They offhandedly thought of how Sam would have loved it. Books had always brought a certain special gleam to his eyes-- but enough musing.

As Faye worked her spell, Dani watched in vibrant attentiveness. They got hopeful when the magic pulsed; however, the cover wouldn't lift and Faye's requests -- all of which Dani was able to translate by ear -- didn't appear to be working either. But she was using French. English. What Dani had gleaned from the memory suggested that neither of those two tongues would have been common to the witches in possession of the grimoire at the time, and the ancient language that had been used had not been Latin. It had been older. Much older.

Faye's magic was still weaving through the book's pages, trying to pry it open from the inside, but they both knew that the impact of the result stood a chance of doing more harm than good. "Right," Dani strolled over with careful steps, eyes trained on the grimoire as they approached. "Hopefully if what I'm thinking turns out to be true, one more change in the language should get us in, but-- fingers crossed."

Similar to before, Dani stepped in front of the book, closed their eyes, and gently breathed the air out of their lungs. Then they pressed the pads of their fingers upon the cover -- not forcefully, just enough to make their presence known -- and began to speak. "Ne vei deschide pentru noi?" The Romanian rolled off of their tongue with the sing-song ease of fluency. "Noi adică nici un rău, și am ceea ce căutați. Dar trebuie să ne arătați cum să-l returnați. Vă rog." Beneath their fingers, they felt a delicate pulse of magic, but the source of it, they instinctively knew, was not Faye's prying tendrils. "Ajuta-ne."

Their final word and the genuine request must have resonated with the volume because as soon as that final phrase passed the young person's lips, a soft breeze of magic swirled between them. When it died down, the clamps sealing the book popped up and fell to the side, and the pendant lit up once more, not brightening, but maintaining a steady glow. However, before either of them could react to the success, the grimoire opened itself of its own volition and flipped through its contents until settling on one particular pair of pages.

Now, Dani was fully aware that reading grimoires was an ability meant solely for witches, but it was them that had sprung the book open and the vibe it had given off didn't seem threatening, so they looked. Not like they had a chance to glance away in time either way. It was glaring at first, like stepping out from the shadows and turning your eyes to the sky only to be met with the full brightness of the sun. They had to squint their eyes shut and blink a few times, but once they had... it was fine. Maybe it was dumb luck or the pendant being protective, the book extending its knowledge willingly, the latent magic that was theoretically within them-- whatever the case, Dani hadn't gone blind and this piqued their curiosity instantaneously. Their eyes skimmed over the text, finding the language familiar but old. At least they could gather what it was meant to be.

"It's a spell," they grinned up at Faye. "I think it might be what we're looking for -- the spell to return the grimoire's magic." Their fingers drifted over the scribbled lines and notations of ink, the latter more recent than the former. "I asked it to help and this is what it turned to. It's got to be."

FAYE: Faye huffed in frustration as none of her efforts really paid off, before turning to Dani and motioning them over. Her magic seeped out of the pages of the book like smoke as Dani changed up the language once more. It wasn’t one Faye was familiar with, so she watched, ready to intervene if necessary should the magic flare out of control. But nothing terrible or untowards happened. Quite the opposite in fact.

Faye let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as the latches popped loose and the air buzzed with magic. The pendant at Dani’s neck drew her attention as it held a steady light. “It’s recognizing it,” the witch said, looking up at Dani’s face, her own split in a small grin. But that wasn’t the end of it. The book was thrown gently open and started filing through it’s own pages.

“I think it goes without sayin’ that it’s tryin’ to tell you something.” Faye didn’t reach out with her own magic again. Not when whatever Dani was doing, and whatever power was in the pendant, seemed to be handling it just fine.

When the book flipped itself open, Faye had scanned the pages it had presented to them. She could read it, but she didn’t understand its meaning. The language was foreign to her. “What do you see?” she asked, her eyes sliding to Dani. “Can you read it?”

She frowned as they told her it was the spell to unlock the book’s magic. “You realize that you’re reading magic? Ancient magic. That pendant alone shouldn’t give you the power to do that. At least not fully.” Faye was awestruck. She’d never seen a human, other than Iann when he got his hands on some rare magical artifact, that could read a grimoire.

“Read it,” Faye urged them. “Say the words out loud. If it doesn’t work, tell me what to say and I’ll do it.”

DANI: "I can't read it, exactly. It's more like... I know what it says, what the meaning is, but I can't translate the characters themselves." The script was no less foreign than the words. It wasn't ancient Greek or Sanskrit or Norse. It didn't have the look of ogham or cuneiform. This was novel, unlike anything Dani had ever seen before, and that alone filled them with an excited energy.

Faye's observation lifted Dani's eyes from the pages. When her words settled in, the human blinked and breathed lightly through pursed lips, then scratched at the root of the curls on their neck. "So-- you think it's really possible then? That I have some magic in my blood, from somewhere; or, whoever this grimoire belonged to, anyhow." Dani had previously encountered a number of grimoires in their work, but they'd never been able to read, if reading them was even safe to do in the first place. It usually wasn't, and in those cases, they'd always used alternative methods to try and decipher the text. Were they shocked to find that they could read this one? Not exactly. It was a quiet sense of fulfillment that they felt, like having poured over scattered files for hours in search of evidence and at last coming upon the clue that you'd been looking for. They knew, for the most part, what the strange occurrences of the last few months could be attributed to, and they could finally breathe a little bit easier.

Then Faye asked them to read the strange words aloud, to recite a spell, and Dani blinked while considering the notion. "Seriously? You think I could-- well, tonight's been weird enough thus far. Maybe we'll get lucky."

After flashing a grin, Dani took a step back from the book and settled into a more serious composure. They inhaled through their nose, briefly closed their eyes, and then glimpsed down, concentrating nothing but the text alone. Like they'd said before, they couldn't translate the text letter for letter. Yet, as they stood there and went from word to word, the sound of each line flowed through their mind like music, transferring the meaning so that all they had to do was recite the lyrics. Not much happened at the start. Dani felt a low sort of tingle in their blood as if they were walking through a small electrical charge. It didn't get much stronger, but a few lines in, just as they'd started to doubt the recitation was working, the pendant began to pulse again.

The glow brightened with each pulse. Dani kept reciting the current line, but glanced up to Faye just in case the witch gave any indication that she wanted them to stop. She didn't, so Dani continued. When they reached the end of the words, the pendant to reach its peak brightness, a blinding light that lit up every corner of the room and forced Dani's eyes shut. The crystal's heartbeat radiated and could be felt by the both of them. It quickened and quickened until the tension flatlined and, following a pause, the magic stored in the trinket burst free.

The majority of the magic shot back into the book, which shut itself automatically upon having its power restored. But a small part of that magic, the part that belonged not to the book, but the witch who had originally separated its magic, rebounded, hitting Dani in the chest like a bag of bricks. The force of it knocked the breath right out of their lungs and they were pushed roughly to the ground. Dani wheezed in an attempt to catch their breath. They'd banged their head, but thankfully not enough to result in a concussion. Rolling onto their knees, they groaned and reached out a hand to wordlessly ask Faye's assistance in pulling themself up off the ground.

FAYE: “That’s more than I can do,” Faye told them, her own expression carefully curious. “I can see everything, and if I knew what it meant, I could read it, but I don’t even get a sense of it that way. Which is not necessarily uncommon if it’s not a grimoire that belongs to me, but for you to be able to feel it like that.” Faye shook her head. “I don’t know what it means. It may be the pendant though, so I would take that into account.”

Faye leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed over her chest. She worried her lip for a moment, trying to think of how to answer. “I think… that’s it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility. But… that doesn’t mean that you’ll ever be able to harness that power, or even use it. The pendant-” Faye nodded at the jewel around Dani’s neck. “-could be the only reason you can do any of this, latent magical ability or not. Or... “ She shrugged. “Maybe you are showing signs of latent magic. It’s not unheard of, even at your age. So yes, I think that somewhere back down the line, you have magical blood. Otherwise, none of this would be possible.” Again, she indicated the book and the pendant.

“Though I would suggest trying to read it without the pendant, now that it’s open, as there are magical object that allow humans to read grimoires. Just to be certain.”

She gave Dani a small smile. “You’ve come this far. I don’t see the harm in it.” The book was giving off nothing malevolent or disruptive, and Faye had silently been poking at it with her magic - a non-verbal spell here and there since they’d started - to make doubly sure it wouldn’t harm either of them. She’d come up empty-handed.

Faye stood up as Dani started to speak, her eyes moving from the book to Dani’s face, intently watching for any change or indication that something was amiss. They seemed alright, and though the air did start to hum with active magic that was different than Faye’s, there was still nothing untowards happening.

And then the pendant started to pulse.

Faye gave Dani a nod to continue as the light grew brighter and the pulse quickened. It didn’t take long, the thrum and the brightness building with each recitation, and Faye had to shield her eyes as well and finally there was one last, vibrating pulse. The windows of Faye’s office, and all the glass casings along the walls rattled violently as the magic shot out of the pendant and into the grimoire. The book shut itself immediately, and Dani took the brunt of the rebound. Faye turned her head, lifting her arm to block the aftershocks rolling over her like a crackling static electricity, uncomfortable, but not harming her.

She was more concerned about Dani, who had hit the floor hard. “Jesus… are you alright?” Faye asked, moving to their side and helping them to their feet. “Let me see.” She took gentle hold of their face and looked into their eyes, checking for damage, both magical and otherwise. Faye pushed their unruly hair gently out of the way as she searched for any cuts or bruising. “How do you feel?” she asked, still holding their chin gently in one hand, face tilted up to hers. “Anything different? Even the smallest details matter, so try your best to focus.”

DANI: Blindly awestruck when the spell they recited began to work, Dani hadn't been paying attention to the magic's effect on themself. There was a rush in their bones to the recitation but a stinging as well. They'd been growing gradually weaker, and even if the payment of their energy wasn't enough to be of serious concern yet, it spelled bad news for future magical endeavors. When the final pulse had returned the book's power, Dani had only a sliver of a second of relief before they were violently punted backwards. The enchantment's rebound slid them a good few feet across the floor and was certain to leave marks the next morning; however, Dani couldn't care about the inevitable bruises while they wheezed at the loss of air from their lungs and gasped feebly to restore it. Thankfully, the air did make its way back into the system and the human was able to muster the strength to roll up onto their knees.

With Faye's hands to steady them, Dani wobbled to their feet, still a bit unsteady in the aftermath of the blow. "I'm--" they answered between heavy though slowing breaths, "--fine. Winded, but I've had worse." The produced a childish huff at Faye's parental gesture of examining their face in concern, though had no current will or power to overrule it. They blinked into the witch's eyes, allowing her to check for whatever signs she sought, and it was in that moment that a quick amethyst sheen -- like the pendant they wore and the magic that had shown itself only a minute ago -- crossed over the gold of their irises. Dani didn't know it was there, hadn't felt it, but since Faye brought it up, they did feel a little different.

"Well, I feel dizzy," they began, cautiously approaching the sensations as they were detected, "but almost like a high dizzy?" Dani looked down at their hand, opening and closing it a few times to flex the muscles and test their reaction. There was a slight tremble to their skin, but it wasn't arising from any tumultuous emotion. "Actually, it feels... good. Really good. I feel like someone turned on a live wire of energy and it's running right through me." They reached up to move Faye's hand away from their chin, pushing lightly at her wrist to free themself before taking a few steps in the grimoire's direction. Careful fingers brushed along the cover as they spoke again. "That connection I was feeling is so much stronger. It's not just a fleeting sense anymore, it's a solid source of power, an open source. I wish there was a better way to describe it, but…" Dani glanced back over at Faye with curious eyes. “Is this how grimoires are meant to react to their covens? How can you feel the depth of the knowledge that something contains?”

FAYE: The explosion of magical energy left Faye herself feeling shaky, and she had just been a bystander. She helped Dani to their feet, checking them over as both a concerned colleague and someone who cared about their wellbeing for other reasons. The sheen of color didn’t go unnoticed, and Faye frowned. “Did you feel that? When your eyes shifted color just now?”

Faye listened as they described what they were feeling. “That can be normal,” Faye nodded. “A rush of magical energy is enough to make anyone feel almost euphoric. Like you’re on fire but the burn feels good. Feels like the most amazing thing you’ve ever experienced.”

She let Dani go as they moved off back towards the book. Faye stared after them for a moment, concerned as to what would happen now, before moving up beside them. “You opened a link that’s been closed for ages. It’s like throwing open a door in the middle of a tornado. Feelin’ like you might get sucked out, but knowin’ you won’t.” She sighed at Dani’s question. “Yes. And no. I was only ever a part of one coven, and we were made up of a mixture of different people. Like a ragtag band of witches instead of blood related. But…” she continued, “I have grimoires that belonged to my family. My grandmother, her mother, and so on… and yes. That connection is like nothin’ else. You feel it in your bones. You just… you know.”

And that really was the long and short of it: Blood knows.

And blood never forgets. No matter how many years or generations may separate one relation from another.

Blood remembers.

DANI: The side effects of encountering magic were extremely varied. Some were physical, like getting thrown across a room. Others manifested in more supernatural ways, and in Dani's case, it was hinted that the latter may have been present. "What? My eyes-- No," Dani blinked up at Faye's frown, twisting their lips in a slight concern of their own. "Well, maybe. It's hard to pick out from everything else I'm feeling at the moment." Their hand lifted to swipe a finger over their eye in reflexive curiosity before they asked, "Why? Couldn't it just be a response to the magic from just now?"

"Almost," Dani cast a small smile to the witch's description. The rush of magic was indeed euphoric. As Dani flexed their hand to test the feel of it, they couldn't help the upward twitch of a grin at the sensation. "But almost is still pretty damn good."

As the grimoire rested on the desk with its cover snugly shut, Dani could feel it calling out to them like before, only now the draw felt more like a call to use than a call to action-- to restore what the book had lost. The book likely hadn't seen a witch's touch in years, and even if it had, someone had still locked it back up in the end, leaving it dormant and isolated until it found a new descendant to entrust with its cause. "I don't want to get sucked out," Dani murmured softly, shutting their eyes briefly to breathe in the energy that passed into their bones by the fingertips they's trailed along the cover. "I know. It knows me. I'm still not sure on the why-- family blood beside --but it does. It's my responsibility now." Gingerly, Dani lifted the book up and held it to their chest just over where the faded pendant hung on their torso. "I'm going to search through it and see what I find. Maybe someone left a hint to my family's history scribbled somewhere. But hey, if I find anything questionable, I'll be sure to give you a call."

FAYE: Faye searched their eyes again, but found no trace of the amethyst sheen or anything else that was telling. “It may have been nothing,” Faye answered. “Or it could have been a response, yes. But once this high wears off, and it will, try and focus as much as you can on anything that feels different than the norm. Even small things, like experiencing deja vu more often, or more ‘gut feelings’ than usual.”

Faye gave a small smile at Dani’s reaction, glad that at least the magical rebound hadn’t made them feel like shit, as could happen. “Just don’t except this all the time. Magic can hurt too. I saw the way your energy drained just then. There’s a fine line there, and you have to know where it is.”

“Good,” Faye nodded, hoping Dani realized just how serious she was. She watched as Dani touched to book once more, felt the flutter of residual magic hum through the air, and sighed softly. The book was theirs now, that much was true. For whatever reason, be it blood or the pendant or something else entirely. The grimoire belonged to Dani Savin. Human. Or were they? Faye nodded as they took the book and turned to leave. “Call me anytime, day or night,” the witch offered. “And Dani…” Faye called before they could shut the door. “Whatever you find in there, please… don’t try and use it alone. Call me. Call Sam. Call someone. Because it’s not a toy.” Dani was smart, extremely smart, and not usually rash or foolhardy, as far as Faye knew. But the witch in her, as well as the teacher and the person who cared about her as more than a colleague, couldn’t let her leave without hammering home one final point:

“It’s a loaded gun. And it’s just waitin’ on someone to pull the trigger.”

DANI: As Dani was about to make their exit, Faye’s call out to them brought them to a halt. They swung the door open enough to look back and stood there on the threshold to hear the witch’s warning. Faye’s final point sunk in with a grave clarity, and while Dani’s curiosity was sure to spark a bit of recklessness, they would not ignore what she had said.

“Right… loaded gun.” They knew how that could go. “Got it. I’ll be careful. Now, I think it’s about time you got home to your daughter, and I won’t hold you up.” Dani chose to leave the door propped open this time as they stepped back into the hall. “Thank you, Faye. And good night.” Then, with goodbyes shared, Dani slipped out into the night once more.

#blood of the covenant.#faye 004.#( private. )#( para. )#( cd. )#SO LONG COMING OMG #BUT THANK YOU SCULLY FOR YOUR PATIENCE #AND THIS RAD TITLE I WOULD NEVER HAVE COME UP WITH #plot: midnight travelers.

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