#I blame it mostly on my parents obsessed with preservation of everything

[scorch-cake]

I should start actually sleeping with my plushies now that I’ve successfully convinced the dogs to stay off my bed at night

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Soulmate Shenanigans Five: The Order Of The Shenanigans

Hey! Guess who has returned? 

Me!

Just the March doing her prompt writing thing, as seen on previous episodes :)

Parts one, two, three, and four here!

Prompt #5

Any intense emotions your soulmate feels you will also experience

Warnings for kidnapping mention and gifted kid “potential” mention

Okay. Not going to lie, I kind of tweaked the concept, but I like how it turned out. The idea of the sides having sides in human AUs has been in my brain, and now it’s in yours!

World Building

At first, the symptoms of having a soulmate was seen as symptoms of witchcraft

It was a reasonable assumption to make, as seeing into someone’s head and emotions wasn’t really a thing that humans did. 

However, as the population grew and communication across the globe became a thing, the instances of people finding their soulmates grew as well, and not everyone could be a witch (or, if they were, being a witch was simply being human).

It took a while for the culture around soulmates to shift, but shift it did, and people eventually figured out “Oh, that person is my soulmate, not my eternal enemy that I need to destroy via my demonic powers, which I totally have”

But people’s minds are kind of a lot, and it’s hard to process it all.

So, in modern day, people have learned to separate the pieces of their soulmate’s personality that they get bombarded with into different pieces, or sides

The sides are Logic, Morality/Emotions, Creativity (with there sometimes being a divide between dark and light), Self-Preservation, and Anxiety.

Characters

Roman: Roman is looking forward to meeting his soulmate so much!

Just...later.

When he’s a famous writer and people know about him and he’s evened out his insecurities and he deserves them!

Being perfect for them is going to take work, but most people meet their soulmates over 30, so he’s got at least fifteen years to prepare.

Until then, he was working on his fantasy story and dreaming of the day he’d get published or get the lead in a school play.

The writing club had been his idea, so you could say that everything that happens in the story was his fault. He’d just wanted to be around people who liked the same things he liked!

Roman’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Note: Names are hard. Aaaagh.

Magnus, his creativity, romance, passion, etcetera. Magnus is really the one who calls the shots around here. He’s just as goofy of a fifteen year old (if not more) as Roman, but he has the unenviable position of running a mind palace and being the ego of someone who hates himself.

This guy just wants to listen to Hamilton, but noooo, he had to have an evil reflection of himself and self-worth issues.

The Count, his self-preservation and pretty much Roman’s inner Roxie Hart/Velma Kelly. Randomly suggests poisoning their mortal enemies a lot (note: they don’t have mortal enemies). 

The most like canon Janus out of any of the self preservations, except instead of “we live in a society” it’s more “fuck it, we’re going to be *famous*!”

The other sides will pay him to stop saying, “that’s showbiz”

The Medic, his morality and emotions. Sort of has a medieval healer thing going on (which means herbs in a satchel, not plague doctor mask).

A lovely person on his own, but when he and The Guard team up, it’s ✨Guilt time!✨

He has the question of “Am I a terrible person?” on his hands, so...good luck to him. He’s trying to hold the five of them into a cohesive unit, but it’s hard!

The Guard, his fears and anxious thoughts. He has a shield and a spear, and is kind of dressed like a (dark and stormy) knight.

No one particularly likes him, but it’s his job to recognize The Shadow, so they all need him.

He hangs around on the outskirts of the mindscape, ever vigilant.

The Alchemist, his logic. No one listens to the voice of reason in this house. Al isn’t really a fan of this, and being Roman’s logic, he thinks that if he can find a way to prove himself it’ll turn out okay.

The Shadow, everything Magnus discarded. You could call him dark creativity, but he’s a lot more. 

They used to call him Rex, when they were kids.

Patton: Patton isn’t thrilled with having to move to a new school, but he’s keeping a positive attitude

The new town is creepy and making friends is harder than he thought, and he just wants to right a sappy love story about ghosts without feeling sad.

But if he keeps his chin up, he knows it’ll all be fine!

And hey, maybe he’ll find people who like him in this writing club thing!

Patton’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have: 

Patrick, his morality and emotions. Patrick feels all of the loneliness and desperation that Patton feels daily, but pretends he doesn’t feel it, since he has to be there for them!

Them meaning his family, meaning the rest of Patton’s mind, as well as Patton, since he’s kind of an older brother/role model to the guy.

Covering the full scope of human emotions isn’t great when the other half of your job is enforcing the sense of right and wrong (and the general consensus in Patton’s head is showing negative emotions = burden = wrong).

None of them can cook, but that won’t stop him from trying!

The Canary, his fears and anxious thoughts. Constantly popping up to remind everyone that they’re failing. It’s kind of his job.

Stress plays the piano when things get to be too much.

The Gardener, his creativity, romance, and passion. Conjures flowers a lot. Projects wishes for a soulmate into the sappy ghost love story, which he’s mostly in charge of writing.

Hasn’t split yet, but that’s mostly because nearly all of Patton’s negative impulses that would be considered “dark creativity” already come from The Miser.

Dr. Picani, his logical side. Knows everything about cartoons, and tries to be professional, but a complete sweetheart.

Secretly knows his name is Emile, but is waiting for the best moment to tell everyone.

The Miser, his self-preservation and deceitful side. No one’s a fan of him. Patrick is kind of his mortal nemesis (in the sense that Patrick claimed the title and he just kind of went along with it?)

Everyone else in the Pattonsphere refuses to curse, but he says many a “fuck” with ease

Trying to protect The Gardener from splitting by taking responsibility for most of the things a dark creativity would do.

Virgil: Virgil just didn’t want to join the yearbook committee. 

It was irrational, maybe, to have a deep rooted hatred of the yearbook committee. 

They were just trying to categorize things, design pages-it wasn’t malicious! 

And yet, being in that classroom and seeing Amelia’s dead eyes and smile near rang every alarm bell in his system, so he needed a way out this year.

His parents weren’t going to let him not choose an activity, so he flipped a coin and ended up in some writing club.

He came into the club determined to fake some pretentious poetry about death. Just because they say the club’s about expression or whatever doesn’t mean that they can know anything about his comics.

Virgil’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have: 

Dante, his fears and anxious thoughts. Dante has too many eyes. Dante is lowkey a cryptid, but he’s sadly a cryptid in charge of life decisions.

There’s no way to dance around it. Dante’s a spider-human hybrid.

Dante would prefer they never be perceived by anyone for anything. He does not want to be seen, he does not want to be heard, he does not want to be perceived. Period. 

But he’s a very conspicuous spider-human hybrid. 

The Competent One, The One Who Can Actually Do Math, Steve, whatever you want to call him, he’s Virgil’s logical side.

His theories are just....

See that image? That kind of sums up his characterization.

Parker, his creativity, romance, and heroic side. He’s the one who got them obsessed with comic books, and is trying to write his own. If people don’t like the comics, he’ll probably just start screaming and never stop

He gets the purple eyeshadow!

Remy, his self-preservation. He mainly just wants Virgil to just...rest

Nap. Sleep. Take a self-care day. This is Remy’s goal.

Also to continue to have the most style out of anyone in the Virgilsphere

Remy has a talent for never being anywhere at the right time, and then popping up at the worst moments, caffeine in hand.

Tam, his morality and emotions. The most into the emo phase out of any of them, since he feels all angst!

Sometimes just hovers and screams. Everyone’s pretty used to this.

Logan: Logan was trying to ignore the things he’d seen

Logan was a scientific guy. He knew that magic wasn’t real, that the fae were just stories.

So, clearly, the nightmarish things he’d seen that night were just that: nightmares. Just nightmares caused by stress over his academic struggles.

That was the immediate problem at hand: academic struggles. Logan was always the top of his class his whole life, and words like “gifted” were thrown around. Lately, however, things have been harder to keep up with and pay attention to, and it’s a bit of a mess.

Logan joined the writing club because he thought it might help him with English class, and he did like speculative fiction.

But, more importantly, he joined it because he thought it would be a simple task he could easily ace, so he wouldn’t have to keep being told that he wasn’t trying.

Logan’s Sides, ranked in order of how much control they have:

Mimir, his logical side. Mimir is pushing himself to take care of all academic matters and keep Logan afloat.

Mimir is over his head, but doesn’t really have anyone to talk to (or so he thinks), so he’s just putting Warby Parkers over his panic and faking cold distance to make everyone think he’s doing okay.

Alastor, his moral side. Half of his job is repressing Logan’s emotions, which isn’t a great thing to be doing, but he think he’s doing it for a good reason.

Kinda strict and blaming Mimir for everything going wrong. He does care about the others, he’s just bad at showing it.

Cassandros, his fears and anxious thoughts. 

This dude-

He’s basically just [puts feet on coffee table] “Hey, did you know everyone hates us?? I made a PowerPoint that proves it!”

He’ll get character development, though.

The Chessmaster, his overdramatic self-preservation.

Tries to be clever, walks into walls.

The Detective, his creative and fanciful side. He wants to swashbuckle, but instead he’s restrained to geometry. 

But now he has a project in the writing club! He has something to do!

And The Mad Scientist is trying to ruin it!

The Mad Scientist, Logan’s dark creativity.

They never used to care about the creative side one way or another. There was no need to make a dark side when it was already looked down upon.

Now, however, there are things in Logan’s mind that he’s trying not to think about, and so the Mad Scientist has joined the fray.

The Actual Plot

This is going to be an actual fic that I write. So, I’m not going to fill out the entire plot here.

I can, however say a few of the plot lines

Plot One: Everyone’s sides are in a state of constant screaming and must learn to communicate.

They also need to let their main guys figure out they have soulmates, because they’re all repressing that information for their own reasons.

Plot Two: LAMP in a writing club, falling in love and being disturbed by first drafts!

Plot Three: The fae are kidnapping people.

And everyone needs to get them to Stop.

I guess you could call this a trailer??

I JUST REALLY LIKE THIS IDEA

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Married at first sight AU part 4

A/N: I’m so sorry it took me so long to add another chapter! I’m thinking about applying for a writing course in college so i would really appreciate any honest opinion about my writing!

Summary: It’s time for Eddie’s part of the home-stays. Unfortunately, this also means that they’ll have to visit Sonia.

warning: there’s one sex joke in this (it’s Richie) and Sonia is in this so mental manipulation

@impalagurl67​  @juhavs​  @werenotinhawkinsanymore​ (sorry if you guys didn’t want to be tagged anymore) 

About five weeks into the experiment, Eddie is ready to call it quits. Not because Richie and him aren’t working as a couple, they are, really well actually, but because Eddie made a grave miscalculation.

He has long abandoned his own promise to leave the program as soon as possible, instead cherishing every date he and Richie go on that is paid by the production, spending more money on one date than Eddie has done in all his previous get-togethers ever.

It helps that for now they are in their own little world, away from every stress point of the daily life, in a place where they only have to focus on each other. He’s not ready yet to have to go back to work, or to move away from Richie, with him living in New York, and Richie residing in Chicago. Richie made him fall hard, and now he doesn’t think he ever wants to go to a house without him, for that house would not be a home.

As per consensus, Richie and him agreed on staying right until the week before the homestay at Eddie’s to avoid having to go and live with Sonia. The thing is, neither of them really kept track of what week they were on, for days in the same place blended together rather easily, or what the next would bring, not while they were having so much fun.

There’s no one else to blame but his own stupidity for that error, since they days before the commitment ceremony, they went to Richie’s homestay. It was only natural that Eddie’s followed. When that was revealed, Eddie and Richie looked at each other in shock, both of them cursing their obliviousness and forgetfulness, but by then, it was too late.

Suggesting that they forfeit anyway, Richie tried to help as best he could, but Eddie refused to do that, claiming it would portray them as a bad couple, and he wasn’t up for that; Richie deserved better than that. Not to mention his career. If they were to call it quits now, an explanation was obligatory, and that might result in reputation damage. For someone who worked in the business Richie did, that was not permissible.

That’s why they find themselves in a plane with destination New York, Eddie gripping Richie’s arm tightly, praying to whoever was up there to help them make it through the week. One might argue that Eddie isn’t forced to go see his mother, it’s only the home-stay, which means go to your own home, and Eddie wouldn’t have gone to her, if she didn’t live with him.

The last time they were on the plane, only days prior to this, their moods had been significantly better, Eddie full of anxious excitement at the prospect of meeting the people he had heard so much about.  

Maggie and Wentworth Tozier lived in a fairly small house, only 30 minutes away from where their son lived, with a medium sized garden filled with all sorts of flowers and herbs. It may not have been as big as Eddie’s house was growing up, nonetheless it exhibited a warmth and serenity, the flowers and spices creating scents that lingered every time they entered the backyard, a welcome aroma that greeted them.

Maggie loved to bake, roping Richie and Eddie into baking one with her and bonding, while Wentworth set the table, and showed them his collection of Richie’s comedy specials, disks all neatly combined in one folder.

Their support in everything their son did was heartwarming, but it also pushed Eddie out of his comfort zone, made him feel out of place. He didn’t have that sort of support system, and he was clueless on how to act around parents who did.

Richie assured him that his parents adored him, and Eddie believed him, mostly since he was completely amoured by them too, and he hoped that they deemed him good enough for their son.

Right after dropping by his parents, the two of them went to Richie’s home. His apartment was the same size as Eddie’s in New York, the only difference being that Eddie’s was much neater, not filled with so much unnecessary stuff and memories. There were a lot of pictures, most of them of Richie and his parents, and the friends he made during stand up, but also a few of a dog he once owned as a kid.

The pictures forced Eddie to think about his own apartment, bare of anything that made the place him. He only had one picture, and that was the photograph that was taken when he was thirteen with his mom coiling him in her grasp, scolding when he didn’t smile bright enough for her liking.

He listened to her, as he always did, the smile more manufactured than her figurines she bought from China, but he remembers how much he longed to be in his room so he had the change to cry in peace, helpless and stuck while she controlled him like a puppet. He swore to himself that day that he’d stick up for himself, and defy her, but his rebellion only lasted a month, before he realized that it did nothing but cause her claws to stick in deeper, and stealing the little freedom he had.

He’s ashamed of himself for living with his mother, and for allowing her to wring her way back into his daily life like he needed her to be there for every decision, but it’s hard to be brave when you have no one else to fall back on. He never had a reason to fight back, but with Richie, he has found one.

His idea was to talk to his mother after the show, keeping his foot down and demanding her to move out, but since the wedding, he ignored every single call his mom made, convincing himself that he needed a little bit of extra time to gain the courage.

Because he dropped of the grid and didn’t contact her in any way, he understood that he needed to call her, at the very least to let her know Richie and him were coming.

However, Richie and him hopped on a plane first thing after a meeting with the experts, leaving him with no time at all to warm his mother about their arrival, and without a proper conversation between the two of them.

He’s certain, that as soon as Richie walks over the threshold, she’ll chew him up, and then spit him out like he’s a filthy piece of dog shit. And god damnit Eddie is sick of her being allowed to do those things without any consequences. Someone should say something about it, and that someone should be him.

The whole trip, he divides his time between prepping Richie for the monster that his mother can be if she opts for it, thankful that the cameras are nowhere in sight, and assessing every possible outcome to prevent a huge blowout from occurring.

He will address her about her behavior, just not on television broad cast, so he’ll try the whole week to appease her, without throwing Richie under the bus. That’s a slippery slope to ride on.

His husband, for five weeks already yet the word still causes him to brighten up, is animatedly practicing for his next movie roll, and cracking jokes, attempting and achieving to mollify some of Eddie’s fears away.

‘Hey Eddie Spaghetti, how much you want to bet that I can indulge this whole sandwich in one bite?’

‘If you even try, I’ll leave you on this plane all by yourself.’

‘Auch, dully noted.’

His mother may be a horrible person, but this time he won’t have to face her alone. That also is reason for concern be as that may, because even despite the fact that Eddie told Richie all about his mother, there’s a whole lot of difference between hearing about it, and seeing it in the flesh.

Though he obsesses and over analyses every possible outcome of his sudden appearance with his mother, he is taking aback by her reaction none the less. Knocking on his front door, after ensuring Richie to take everything that comes out of her mouth with a grain of salt, the sight of her tight-lipped smile emerges.

She’s wearing the same dress she wore on the day of the wedding, the door clenched in her fists, glancing at them with glare she is careful to keep hidden from everyone who is unfamiliar with her. It’s one of her specialties, to mask how much hell she’s about to bestow upon Eddie towards other people.

Eddie immediately knows that she is livid, and by the hand that falls on his lower back, he can tell Richie understands it too.

‘Come in Eddie-bear’, she invites them in, as if the flat isn’t registered in Eddie name instead of hers. Eddie allows himself one more moment of hesitation, before faltering inside.

The minute he steps in, he wants to run back out. The walls metaphorically close in on him, like he is going to buried under the concerns and scrutiny of his mother, hiding him from every real love he could ever hope to get.

It’s torture, and he fights against every instinct in him to stay put. The place has been under his name for six years, and when he first bought it, he associated the place with new beginning and freedom, causing him to happily skip home after school every day. He discovered what kind of person he is here, what his personality entails, and he despises the fact that, just like with everything else, his mother took this away too.

His knees start to get a little weak, and Eddie thinks he might pass out any second, until Richie comes up beside him, his arm thrown over his waist and allowing Eddie to lean his weight on him, all his muscles relaxing after being cramped up in fight or flight mode.

A feather-light kiss is pressed to his forehead, Richie’s body shielding him from the camera and Sonia’s havoc eyes for barely a minute, but enough for Eddie to compose himself.

‘Hi miss K, I’m Richie.’ The greeting is one that is so unlike Richie that Eddie comes close to calling the whole thing off, his heart bleeding with the need to protect and preserve everything good about the man who is goofy and kind-hearted.

‘Richard,’ Sonia allows with a curt nod, inching her body away from Richie when he tries to hug her as a salutation. He doesn’t let it get to him, Richie’s polite smile remains on his face, determined to prove to her that he is above all that pettiness that she’s displaying.

The camera man shuffles closer, presumably zooming in on Richie’s face, gauging his reaction. Her attempt to conceal her distaste is not working effectively, but that is the opposite of a problem for the tv-show.

People eat drama up, and this will be no different, except that Eddie is now the one they’ll be gossiping about behind his back. A shiver rolls over his body, annoyance prickling the back of his neck. It’s easy to forget the cameras are rolling when he’s enjoying Richie’s company, but the reality that others observe them and every move they make is under scrutiny, is infuriating.

‘Oh Eddie-kins, it’s been so long since I’ve heard of you.’

She attempts to embrace him, but he only allows if for a second, detangling them to create more space between them. A mother touch should provoke a feeling of safeness, of care and love, but Sonia’s hugs always made it feel like tiny bugs crawled their way across his body, and no amount of whipping would ever get them off of him, and he avoided them at all costs.

Try as he might, he can’t fight the need to practically fall on his knees and apologies to her, his earlier determination about standing up for himself slipping away like water between his hands. He manages to shrug in lieu of it, but only by the skin of his teeth.

‘You look so skinny,’ she adds, true to form already doing her very best to poison his mind with the ideas of him being unwell. ‘I’ll bring you something to eat too.’

She spurns Richie, failing to ask him if he needs anything, marching to the kitchen.

Eddie grabs Richie’s hand, their finger interlocking while he catches the reassuring smile Richie gives him. ‘Wanna go see my room?’

‘Oh kinky Eds, and the first time I’m visiting too? I didn’t peg you for such a guy.’

With a gentle push of expiration and an accompanied eye-roll, he drags them over to his bedroom, the only space in the apartment that holds any worthwhile to him, or at least the a box hidden under his bed does. He guesses his mother will be busy with her tea , the one that Eddie has such a distaste for he almost dry heaves every time he takes a sip of, for a little while so they have a bit of time to spare.

The bedroom door remains open so the camera crew can pile in after them, their equipment enough to block the door from his mother’s prying eyes.

He crouches down on the floor in order to grab the box, pausing to really think things through, and then takes out just the picture, the lone one that was taking of both him and his father, previous to standing up, and joining Richie on the edge of the bed.

If he wants to relationship with Richie to work, he needs to reveal everything about him, including the parts that have yet to be healed, but he rules out that conversation until they’re alone.

There were more stuff in the box that belonged to his father, but those aren’t as important s the picture.

The photo gets muffled away out of sight of the camera, saved for a time when all the production crew has gone to bed.

His intent was to show Richie around the rest of the apartment, but the tea is prepared faster that he had foreseen, so he backlogs his plans, and they move to the living room.

His mother has, gracefully, packed a third mug, which she fills to the brim with her disgusting beverage, and offers up to them.

While Eddie and Richie choose the seat next to each other, his mother sits opposite to them, the tea sloshing on the table as she swirls it. Inwardly, Eddie cringes, the need to clean it up presenting itself with such a velocity that his hands shake.

‘So Eddie, talk to your mommy. How have you been?’ Eddie is muddled over her behavior. On the one hand, she is much calmer than he expected her to be, but on the other hand, he knows better than to let his guard down around her.

‘It’s been great mom, I’m really happy that I got paired with Richie’, he remarks. He’s being intentionally vague, as to not give her any ammo to verbally attack them with.

From the moment they stepped foot into the flat, she disdains Richie, never once addressing him, and it’s starting to get on Eddie’s nerves. He almost wishes she would scream, so sheltering himself and Richie is an option, whereas now it feels like he’s waiting for the punchline to drop.

‘Oh yes, Richard.’ The malicious sneer has resumed it’s place, her eyes squinted together as she leers at Richie. Richie’s posture shift, his body ridging but his mouth still firmly shut, biting his tong. The fact that Richie refrains from any sort of humor, or talking in general, leaves Eddie unsettled and on edge. He doesn’t like it, and the absence is an experience he’ll avoid as much as possible in the future.

‘What have they been feeding you Eddie-bear? You are so skinny. It’s not good for you you know, staying away from home for so long. Are you homesick? Is that why you’re barely eating?’

Embarrassment tints Eddie’s cheeks bright red, her treatment of him not unlike that five year old, condescending in the worst way.

The penny drops, and Eddie all at once understands what her game plan is. She’s trying to manipulate the situation so that it seems like Richie isn’t a good husband or partner, both for the tv show, and for Eddie.

She must have known that demanding Eddie to come home would have only resulted in him turning his back on her even more, so she ventured to do it in a different way.

‘Eddie is perfectly fine, misses K, his abs and frankly the rest of his body can vouch enough for that.’ Richie laughs, but the joke falls flat and dies out at the hard stare he receives. Tittering awkwardly, he clears his throat.

‘He isn’t homesick either, in fact, he told me that he loved to travel, he’s fine,’ Richie defends him, their legs locking under the table, not in view of the camera’s and his mother.

‘Even so, I’m very essential to my sons life, Richard. If you even consider being part of his, I come with the territory.’

‘Eddie is perfectly cable of being by himself, he doesn’t need anyone. Are you sure that it isn’t you that needs him?’

Sonia jumps up from her seat, her lukewarm drink spilling over the top and dripping of the side. She turns pale, her whole visage drained of any color, so utterly devoid of any other emotion other than enragement.

‘Do you hear that? Do you hear the way he speaks to me?’ She screeches to the lens-man, who blinks sheepishly at her, finding her outburst rather strange., as there was barely any provocation. The man glimpses at Eddie and Richie, who remain quite, and he follows their lead.

‘Eddie, force Richard out of here, he is no longer welcome. I won’t accept someone talking ill about me.’

‘He is mom’, Eddie states, his voice trembling somewhat, although the words don’t lack conviction.

‘Excuse me?’

‘This is my home, and you’re powerless to decide who comes through those doors.’ The camera is glaring right in his face and he is tempted to push it away, which is almost the perfect outlet for the anger he’s experiencing, but he’s better than that.

‘Eddie-bear’, she chuckles uncertain. ‘I’m just trying to look out for you. You’re delicate honey, and people like him,’ she spat at Richie, ‘will derail your mind.’

Scoffing, Eddie rises from his chair as well, establishing eye contact to assert dominance.

‘He won’t. But even if someone would try, they wouldn’t succeed.’ The picture in his pocket calls his attention, and his hand wonders into the pocket to touch it for a second, drawing strength from it.

‘Not anymore.’

Sonia gapes, her mouth opening and closing, unbelieving that her sweet, innocent boy said such a thing to her.

‘We’ll talk more when I get back, me and Richie are staying in a hotel tonight.’

He denies her the chance to reply and ruin the day even more, trudging outside with as much confidence he has. Richie says something to Sonia, out of hearing shot from Eddie, before he too, falls into step beside Eddie.

‘I’m sorry that this home-stay turned out to not be such a ‘home’-stay after all,’ Eddie apologizes, using air quotes on the word home.

‘Hey, Eds it’s fine. I don’t care where am I, as long as it’s with you.’

The blush returns, now for a whole different reason.

[razberryyum]

The Untamed/陈情令 Rewatch, Episode 11

(spoilers for everything MDZS/Untamed)

[covers MDZS chapters 51 and 52]

WangXian meter: 🐰🐰+🐰+ 🐰🐰+ 🐰🐰+🐰🐰+🐰🐰🐰

I’m frankly surprised Wuji didn’t start playing as soon as Wei Ying turned around and saw Lan Zhan walking towards him. They even slo-moed the scene to further stress the romanticism of the moment so it was rather odd that Team CQL would let this chance to WangXian things up get away from them, especially considering the fact that since Wei Ying spent most of the episode thinking about Lan Zhan, that would’ve been completely appropriate.  

Wei Ying insistently saying Lan Zhan’s name to get his attention, even though he was being totally ignored, always makes me think of an image, which I’m going to share now, despite the fact that I’m pretty much opening myself up to humiliation due to my shamefully lack of artistic talent:

I wish this was actually drawn by a right-handed 3 year old using their left-hand, but unfortunately that truly is the extent of my drawing abilities, which is obviously less than nonexistent. I hope the spirit of what I’m trying to convey still comes through since I think the dynamics between Wei Ying, Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng are applicable for pretty much the entire episode. 

Thinking from Jiang Cheng’s point of view, he’s probably both annoyed and befuddled by how obsessed Wei Ying seems to be with Lan Zhan. Of course he couldn’t understand the greater significance behind Wei Ying’s focus—how could he, when even Wei Ying didn’t understand at this point—but I can imagine him replaying these events years later, after all that’s happened, and only becoming even more angry and bitter at Wei Ying for already choosing Lan Zhan over his own family this early on. I mean, Wei Ying almost followed Lan Zhan to Cloud Recesses because he was concerned for his safety before he even spared a thought about his own sect and family’s safety. It's a good thing Jiang Cheng was still in his loving, brotherly phase during this time, otherwise Wei Ying would’ve more than deserved his ire. Actually, considering how much Jiang Cheng warned Wei Ying against acting out and doing something rash that would negatively impact their sect, I can’t blame him for the anger he felt later on when Wei Ying did exactly what he, and even his father, told him not to do.  

Even though we didn’t see Lan Zhan reciprocating Wei Ying’s obsessiveness in return, I did love the fact that he utilized Wei Ying’s talisman to get away from Wen Xu since that was yet another indication of how much he appreciated Wei Ying’s abilities. I guess he might have gotten the talisman when they were trying to subdue the dancing goddess in Dafan Mountain. This will be the first time he’s kept Wei Ying’s talisman, and even though he was forced to use it, I love that the second time he kept one, he actually treasured it like a precious keepsake and only used it because Wei Ying was once again by his side. It serves as a nice marker of progression of their relationship.  

Jiang Cheng Appreciation Time

It hurt my heart all over again that we will never get to see this kind of interaction between these two brothers any more, I actually got teary-eyed watching it tonight, especially with how adorable Wei Ying was being. I really love their brotherhood before everything went to hell because it’s just so...loving and unselfish, and I give Jiang Cheng a lot of credit for that. If he were a lesser person, he could have easily been an abusive brother to Wei Ying, taking full advantage of his status as the heir of Yunmeng Jiang sect to make Wei Ying’s life as difficult as possible. I know Shijie helped a lot in smoothing their relationship in the beginning, but it is also a testament to Jiang Cheng’s sweet nature that he could even be coaxed into opening his heart to this orphan his father brought home, especially when rumors of his true parentage started floating around...mostly thanks to his own mom.  

I still wince when I watch this scene where Madame Yu basically cuts down her own son out of vindictiveness towards Wei Ying. I love Madame Yu, I really do, but wow do I not admire her parenting skills. Wei Ying almost nonchalant attitude to her rant was a good indication of how common her dressing down was, that he was able to even develop an immunity towards it. Jiang Cheng’s reaction broke my heart though. So did Shijie‘s: her non-stop peeling of those lotus seeds were clearly an indication of just how stressed she was by the situation. But since Jiang Cheng bore the brunt of his mom’s criticism, my heart bled for him more. Yet, despite having lived his whole life being told he will never be as good as Wei Ying, he still loved him like a brother and even admired him, as exemplified by this scene:  

Instead of being jealous of Wei Ying being able to hit the target when he failed and the accolades he received from their sect disciples as a result, Jiang Cheng looked downright proud of his brother, as if Wei Wuxian’s success was his own. If I didn’t love Jiang Cheng before, I sure as hell loved him after this moment. It really showed how big of a heart Jiang Cheng has, how decent a person he is, and just how wonderful a brother he is (despite his constant nagging and disapproval), and it also made me so much sadder about what happened to their relationship and Jiang Cheng as a person later on. I really mourn the loss of his sweetness and magnanimity.

Madame Yu Appreciation Time

I’ve talked about how much I love Madame Yu before, and despite how brutal she is towards her family, I still love her. I loved her the moment she shot that glare of death at her husband. Him looking away and down like a properly whipped man just made me love and admire her even more. Again, I don’t approve of her parenting methods, I would not want her as my mom, but otherwise, she is just fucking awesome in my book. She is also beautiful. Makes me wish Jiang Fengmian was more of a match for her aesthetically-speaking, since he definitely was in the donghua. I wish they didn’t go older with him in the live action since the actress herself (Zhang Jingtong) is actually only a couple of years older than Xiao Zhan. I guess this version of JFM just hadn’t developed his cultivation level enough to retain his youthful appearance.  

Liu Haikuan Appreciation Time

Any opportunity I get to show Big Brother some love, I will take it, although in this instance I would actually like direct that love and appreciation towards actor Liu Haikuan specifically for his heart-wrenching performance in the scene where he begged Uncle Lan to leave Cloud Recesses to preserve his life. I totally felt his desperation and fear for his uncle, and how completely unwilling he was to leave him and Cloud Recesses behind. Some actors can’t even produce a single droplet of moisture even when a scene is calling for them to cry their eyes out, yet Liu Haikuan drops those tears even when he doesn’t need to since they were hardly noticeable. I just love his performance.  

Lan Zhan Appreciation Time

Technically I probably don’t need to set aside a specific section to appreciate Lan Zhan since I appreciate him all the time already, but since I wasn’t sure where to stick this moment, I decided to put it here. I don’t say it enough but I truly love the way he floats down to the ground; he looks like an angel descending upon the Earth.  

Ex-BFFs

I really cannot wait for The Fatal Journey’s release because I am dying to find out how Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao went from this to what they become sixteen years later. I know Nie Mingjue is the reason, but the journey to that point is what fascinates me, so although I love Wen Ning and Sizhui and I do look forward to their movie, I must confess that I am most excited about the Nie brothers and JGY’s saga. January cannot come soon enough.

A Questionable Picturesque Setting  

I love the way both Lotus Pier and Nightless City looked, so much so that I wish such places existed so I can go visit them one day. While I’m sure there are probably places in China that resemble Lotus Pier (or can be dressed up to look like it more or less), I doubt anything like Nightless City exists because it doesn’t even really make sense as a residence. Who in their right mind would build their stronghold on a volcano? And I guess an active one at that considering the lava running down all the surrounding mountains. Maybe that’s why Wen Ruohan looks so sweaty all the time. Since this part of Nightless City is obviously different from the section we saw during the Sunshot Campaign and Wei Ying’s final stand later on, I have to wonder just how freaking big is this place. And where was Wen Chao appearing from since there’s no building nearby? Is there some underground tunnel where he popped up from? I didn’t see any openings during the long pan up those steps. And also, for a sect known for its sun motif, I didn’t see even ONE sun printed on any of those banners. I wish they kept the original design; Nightless City made more sense in the donghua’s version of the place.  

Overall Episode Rating: 8 Lil Apples out of 10

Disclaimer: The Untamed would not be possible without Mo Dao Zu Shi and Mo Xiang Tong Xiu-laozi.  I mean no disrespect whatsoever with my humble comparisons between the novel and the live action, even when I sometimes favor the changes in the show. All hail MDZS and MXTX-laozi always and forever!  

[stereksummerexchange]

Mind’s a Mess

@inatshej

by @septima-sum

“This is our new student,” Finstock tells the class. “Derek Hale! Go easy on him, you rabid monsters.”

Stiles gets a burst of anxiety from the new kid. For a moment, he hears Derek’s thoughts loud and clear. I hate First Days. I never get used to the staring. Play it cool, damn it. Play it cool.

Stiles winces in sympathy. Yeah, First Days suck.

To Derek’s credit, he looks as bored and disaffected as he possibly can while introducing himself to twenty new people who will mercilessly judge every single one of his moves. His tells them that his family moved here from New York, which sounds cool until he mentions the upstate part. He has three siblings. Two of them also go this school, while is older sister is off to college. He likes gaming, movies, and food, by which he means eating rather than preparing. He’s also a werewolf. “And that’s it, mostly,” he concludes.

Okay, the last part is probably not something that comes up in most introductions, but that sort of info is par for the course in Beacon Hills. Everybody is something in this town. When Derek is finished with the introduction, he scans the rows of chairs and – hurray! – ends up claiming the free place next to Stiles. He’s slumping into it as if he wishes he could disappear. Makes himself smaller than he is. Observes everything.

Stiles very much wants to read his thoughts, really read his thoughts, deliberately, but doesn’t. He had many a talk with Ms. Morell why privacy is sacrosanct. Being born a telepath, it was a tough thing to learn. He’s always caught snippets of thoughts here and there, even if he didn’t want to. As soon as he could talk, that got him in trouble big time. Like when he’d mentioned the divorce to Scott, who hadn’t known about it. (And neither had his dad, actually).

Great powers beget great fuck-ups.

Speaking of which, Finstock’s cell phone goes off and prompts him to argue with the poor person calling him. “Are you kidding me? That’s why it’s called an insurance – no – that’s the literal definition of the word!” He scowls at the class as if they are to blame for his predicament. “You do group work until I get back! No shenanigans! I’m looking at you, Greenberg.”

“Stop picking on Greenberg,” a girl in the last row yells.

“I’m not playing favorites! I hate all of you!” Finstock shouts and slams the door shut.

“Wow.” Derek seems bewildered, to put it mildly. “Is he always like that?”

Stiles grins. “My sweet summer child… that’s nothing. Wait until he recruits you into the Lacrosse team and gives one of his motivational pre-game speeches. Now that’s a spectacle.”

Derek processes that. “Can’t wait,” he says dubiously.

“What’s up with the whole Clark Kent thing?” Stiles asks him, motioning to Derek’s bulky black glasses and his whole… vibe.  Like the plaid button-down shirt that strains to fit around his athletic form, or the very neat hairstyle that makes him appear like an engineering student form the 1950s.  He seems like the world’s least convincing nerd. As an actual nerd, Stiles feels compelled to defend the honor of his brethren.

Derek corrects the position of his glasses. “Clark Kent?”

“You know, Superman?” Stiles asks in a tone of profound derision. Jesus. They don’t make ‘em any brighter these days, do they.

“I know Superman,” Derek says. He sounds insulted, which, fair point, he has every right to be. “Kal-El from Krypton, created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster in 1938. I’m just wondering if you’re talking about the Pre-Crisis or Post-Crisis versions? The Golden Age? Silver Age? Bronze? Or maybe you’re talking about Bizarro Superman.”

“Um,” Stiles utters eloquently. This is not going the way he imagined it would go.

“If you mean the 1930s version, you’re practically describing me as an aggressive vigilante, so thanks for that. Or maybe you think I’m the archetype of the brave-hearted hero with a strong sense of justice, morality and righteousness? Like the version from the 1940s onward? Maybe. But you could also mean that I resemble the recent DCEU version, where Superman is deeply distrustful, doesn’t give a crap about human lives and the entire heroic arc is all about his ego. That comparison I would find offensive, frankly.”

“Uhhh… well.” It’s possible that Stiles’ knees turn a little weak. “I just meant because of the glasses and your whole suppressed jock vibe,” he says. “Dude, I don’t know you well enough to even guess which moral belief system you ascribe to!”

Derek considers this. “If you have to make a comparison at all, compare me to the classic Post-Crisis version,” he says earnestly. “And I’m not a jock, suppressed or otherwise.”

“Ok,” Stiles says, bewildered. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind. Fine. But really, what’s up with the glasses? Wolves have perfect vision.”

Derek seems to deflate. “I know, and so do hunters. My family insist I tried to blend in as much as possible. I’ve worn glasses for years.”

That Stiles didn’t expect at all. “Really? Wow.” He’s been so used to living in the little bubble that is Beacon Hills that he forgot what it’s like out there. “This town is warded. We haven’t had hunter activity in, like, decades. You couldn’t find a safer place anywhere on this planet.”

Derek looks unconvinced but doesn’t voice his doubts.

-

Truth to be told, Stiles is envious.

Of Scott, who lives for the full moons, for the nights spent running through the Preserve, where he can unleash his powers and feel at peace with himself. Of Kira, whose mother instructed her in the ways of kitsunes since she was a little girl. Even a little bit of Jackson, lizard freak that he is, because even he can display his kanima self in this town whenever he wishes to.

In contrast, telepathic abilities are intrusive by their very nature. Not something to be cherished and celebrated – they’re a problem to be managed.

Which is why Stiles loved loved loved the family trip to Chicago last year. Just being in the city and opening himself up, listening to the hundreds of voices streaming past him. He figured he wouldn’t do any harm that way, not if he couldn’t tell whose thoughts he was emerging himself in… but really, in all likelihood that was probably a convenient lie he told himself.

-

Derek sits with them at lunch. He learns that Scott, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac are werewolves. He learns that Lydia is a banshee and Kira a kitsune.

It’s with the familiar nervousness that Stiles tells him he’s a telepath.

Oh shit, Derek’s mind yells. A telepath? Is he reading my thoughts now? Does he know I think he’s CUTE?

Stiles, under the greatest effort known to humankind up to this point, manages not to do a tap dance in the middle of the cafeteria. He closes his mind, but it’s too late to forget what he just learned. Cute. Derek thinks he’s cute!  

“You can read thoughts?” Derek asks out loud, an anxious edge to his oh-so casual question.

“Yeah,” Stiles confirms and fiddles with his napkin.

“Are you reading everyone’s thoughts here?”

“Absolutely not,” Stiles says and acts extra annoyed because of his latent guilt. “There are rules and guidelines. I have ethics to consider, man. Not that I’m interested in the dull inner workings of you unwashed furballs anyway.” The last part he says to all of the werewolves at the table.

“Like we’re interested in your inner workings either,” Erica says sweetly.

Yelping, Stiles ducks as Isaac throws a crumbled paper at him, but it still hits him right in the center of his face. Curse that scarf-wearing annoyance with his impeccable aim.

“You should really try out the Lacrosse team,” Scott tells Derek. “You look like you’d be a good fit!”

“He means that you’re built like a brick house,” Boys says. “And just for the record, I agree. Come to one of our open training sessions, check it out. There’s no harm in that.” 

Derek hesitates. He’s worried, that much Stiles can tell even without working his telepathic mojo.

“I haven’t really played sports yet,” Derek says. “At school, I mean. My mother was always worried I would be too good at it and would give my werewolf identity away.”

That earns him a few looks a pity, but Scott also slings his arm around his shoulders and tells him it’s all going to be fine.

And maybe for the first time that day, Derek believes them.

-

 Growing up, Stiles watched his parent interact with ease, often communicating mentally instead of verbally. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to him.

Sometimes Stiles will visit Claudia’s grave and the wind will ruffle his hair… almost with purpose, almost lovingly – and he’ll imagine it’s her. He’ll imagine that something of her is left behind; a fragment, a piece or her mind. In those moments, he allows himself to believe she watches over him still.

-

Stiles learns that Derek likes to run first thing in the morning, when the dawn is just breaking and the air is still chilly and damp.

He also collects graphic novels and studies for tests with a single-minded intensity that is nothing short of impressive.

Most of the time he’s so quiet that his deadpan humor all hits them a second too late, surprising them into fits of laughter.

And yes, Derek is great at Lacrosse – which irks Jackson to no end and delights everyone else.

-

They’re supposed to study together, but Stiles can’t focus on electrostatic charge right now.

Because: cute.

It’s unhealthy how often Stiles obsesses about that one word and ponders its many connotations. Why didn’t Derek ask him out yet? Why? It can’t be for the lack of puns about bisexuality, because Stiles didn’t spare him those. And yeah, it’s not like Derek is obligated to make a move, he hardly needs to ask out every person he found attractive for one split second, but… but.

“Stiles,” Derek sighs and closes the book he was reading with a thud. He looks at his friend with fond annoyance. “I feel like this would be so much simpler if you just read my damn mind.”

“You mean that?” Stiles asks, nearly breathlessly.

“I do.”

And that’s how it all begins.

For the lovely inatshej and their prompt: I love friends to lovers, preferebly high school, human, light angst with a fluffy ending, maybe nerd Derek.

[lydiawhinesaboutfanfiction]

Lords of the Sea

@tuxedo-rabbit is to thank/blame for this

Summary:  Hawke and Isabela are bored without a ship to sail, and the news from Ferelden is as ridiculous as always.

(modern AU, featuring Isabela/f!Hawke, and some minor Alistair/f!Tabris)

Read on AO3 here

The TV in their crappy motel room was turned on to a press conference the king of Ferelden was holding. Hawke, sitting on the floor in front of it, turned it up, half out of national pride, half because most of what came out of the guy's mouth was absolutely hilarious.

“For my latest decree, I, uh, decree, I guess, that all dogs are sovereign citizens of Ferelden,” he announced, looking straight at one random reporter, because he clearly still hadn't managed the art of talking to crowds.

Isabela, hanging upside down off the bed, squinted at the screen. “What?”

“When you say all dogs,” one reporter began, “do you mean just Fereldan dogs? And is there a segregation by, say, breed, because mabari are obviously very intelligent, but some others--”

“All dogs,” King Alistair said firmly.

“Even...dogs in other countries, your majesty?”

The king looked vaguely confused, and struggled to keep professionalism as he answered, “I don't understand what's so difficult about the phrase 'all dogs.’”

Isabela groaned and turned off the TV. “I'm not going to watch what's probably going to be those same questions over and over for the next fifteen minutes,” she told Hawke.

“Fair,” Hawke replied.

This motel was one of many they'd stopped at after leaving (leaving, NOT fleeing, because fleeing implied they weren't welcome, and that they couldn't come back whenever they wanted, both of which were obviously untrue) Kirkwall, and while sneaking around the Free Marches had been fun in the beginning, the monotony of it all was driving Hawke and Isabela insane. They'd already played FMK about their friends about six hundred times and come up with justifications for every choice in every combination and what was there to do after that? Nothing, was Isabela’s thought, except put their ideas into practice.

(“We're not going to kill Anders, Bela. At least not while he's still making us hangover potions.”

“Ugh, fine.”)

So here they were, so bored that not even the king of Ferelden’s ridiculous ideas about governing a country could faze them.

“That guy ever text you back about his boat?” Hawke asked, leaning back against the bed so her head was next to Isabela's.

Isabela scowled. “No. Back to square one, then!”

“We could…” But Hawke couldn't think of anything. “Shit.”

“Hmm.”

Hawke turned the TV back on.

“--does this mean human citizens can no longer own dogs, because they too will be citizens?”

“Will dogs get more or less rights than say, elves, or dwarves? Or mages?”

“Does this mean dogs will be able to vote in local elections? How will that work?”

“Okay! Press conference over,” said the king's press secretary, a man called Nathaniel Howe who had formerly been a soldier under the Queen's command. He ushered King Alistair, who was still trying to yell out things like “if all dogs go to heaven why can't they own themselves?”, back into the castle.

“Your country is a shitshow,” Isabela said dryly.

“Guess Champion of Kirkwoof is a Fereldan citizen now. What a good boy.” The dog's original name was Hawke, because Hawke (the original) had never been good at names, but he had accepted the change with all the grace a mabari could muster.

(The combination of a lack of naming creativity and her childhood obsession with showing ownership over everything had led to her parents being Mom and Dad Hawke, Carver and Bethany being Little Brother and Sister Hawke, and various inanimate objects being things like Apple Tree Hawke, or Barn Hawke. Marian herself was, obviously, just Hawke.)

Champion, hearing his name, excitedly bounded over from the other side of the room and started licking his owner’s face enthusiastically. “Yes. Good boy. Down.” Champion sat back obediently.

“He looks like he wants a walk.”

“You're upside down, how can you tell?”

“Well, men and dogs--”

“Right, okay. I'll take him out. Back soon.” Hawke got up, leashed Champion, and headed out.

They couldn’t stray too far from the motel, in case they were recognized, but Champion made the most of it, spraying his scent on every car in the parking lot, and on most of the doors, too, for good measure. Hawke felt badly that he couldn’t spend more time outside, but mabari were pretty unusual out in the country, and all it would take was one curious idiot to have the templars on them to arrest them for killing Meredith--or worse, that Chantry thing Sister Nightingale was rumored to be running. They’d never be able to get out of it.

Hawke and Champion couldn’t have been gone more than twenty minutes. Half an hour, maybe. But of course, by the time they went back to the room, Isabela was gone.

Gone to see a man about a boat! her note said. Back in a few days ;P

Hawke sighed. “Not surprised. Well, boy, let’s see if there’s anything better on TV, then.”

She wasn’t surprised Isabela had left like that, leaving just a note. She would be surprised if she didn’t come back. Still, this was probably something they should talk about. Both of them hated talking about their feelings. “There’s only one time when you should ask someone how they feel about something,” Isabela said, “and that’s when you’re trying to make sure you’re not about to accidentally commit a felony through lack of communication. Assuming makes an ass out of you and me, after all. Besides, anything less than enthusiastic consent is no fun, anyway.”

Hawke just hoped this new boat wouldn’t fall through like the last dozen. It was like people didn’t want to sell their things to a known pirate. People were stupid.

After three days of catching up on Vael Abbey and Skyping Varric and Bethany about it for over two hours--Varric was doing something in Orlais, last Hawke had heard, and Bethany was following Anders around to random little villages to learn healing but to mostly make sure he didn’t commit any more acts of terrorism--Isabela returned.

“Get your boat?” Hawke asked.

Isabela closed the door behind her, and sighed. Hawke’s heart sank. Not another disappointment.

“I did!”

“You--were you trying to trick me just now?” Hawke jumped off the bed and hugged Isabela.

“The look on your face was hysterical. God, and I thought I hated being cooped up like this the most. I guess I was never alone for it.”

“It’s not so bad. You’ve missed quite an interesting news cycle.”

Isabela rolled her eyes. “Your king and the dogs?”

Hawke summed up the last few days of politics for Isabela.

(“This just in,” the FNN anchor said while Hawke did some stretches in front of the television, two days previous, “Prime Minister Anora Mac Tir has released a statement regarding the king’s decree yesterday granting all dogs citizenship. The statement reads: As of this time, our offices have received no documentation requesting such a decree. We would like to remind King Theirin that Ferelden is a constitutional monarchy, and as such he cannot just say things and have them magically become law.”

Then, the next day, just as Hawke’s pizza was arriving, an emergency press conference by the extremely elusive queen of Ferelden, an elf woman named Kallian, was held. “So, I bet Alistair he wouldn’t actually say the dog decree thing, and he said he totally would, and so I said, there’s no way you’ll make it through a full press conference about that with a straight face. So he said, okay but if I do, you have to take a week off work. It was a deal, so, I guess this is just me saying, no, dogs aren’t citizens, although I think they should be, and I guess starting tomorrow I’m taking a week off work. Alistair is very excited--he has a whole cheese tasting thing planned, and some other stuff. Anyway. Press conference over.” Later, the queen tweeted, “people have been asking what i was going to get if i won: it was the password to the official king of ferelden twitter account,” the idea of which quickly became a meme.)

“So how did you get the ship?”

“Well, while you were out, that guy texted me saying his last buyer fell through, so I should come look at it. It’s not the best I’ve ever seen, but it sails, and I’ve already started putting out feelers for a crew. I probably should have stayed to tell you where I was going, but I was just too excited.” She still looked more excited than sorry, but that was the closest to an apology Hawke was probably going to get, so she was forgiven.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go see it. I can check us out.”

It was a two hour drive to the coast, but it took them about an hour and ten minutes. Isabela’s new ship was docked at a small port, and she actually made Hawke close her eyes when they got there to preserve the surprise.

“Tada! Open them.” Hawke opened her eyes, and looked up at the ship.

It wasn’t as big as the one she’d taken with her mother, Carver, and Bethany when they were fleeing the Blight, and it was ugly as sin, but it was Isabela’s, so she smiled. “It’s--”

What the hell was that written on the side?

“Marian? Isabela!”

Isabela laughed so hard she doubled over. “God! I didn’t even know it was called that until I arrived, but isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

“You cannot have a ship named after me!”

“Who says it’s named after you? I think it’s named after the previous owner’s grandmother--ow! Okay, we’ll repaint it, it’ll be the Bethany-- OW! Hawke! Stop smacking my shoulder.”

“I am very happy for you,” Hawke said, through gritted teeth, “even if this is a stupid coincidence.”

“I would prefer to call it fate, but sure, that works too.”

“Well, come on then. Let’s go christen your captain’s quarters.”

And aboard the Marian Bethany Siren’s Call 2, the two of them lived happily ever after.

[aut-of-space]

Autism research in the past and ableism

When autism was first discovered as an actual mental condition, it was branded as “autistic childhood psychosis”. The main research in that time was conducted by Leo Kanner and the more famous Hans Asperger. Both of them didn’t really have contact with one another, they both just seperately developed interest for autistic children.  In this post, I’ll write a little about the differences in their research and how it still affects autistic people today. 

Leo Kanner - Kanner Syndrom/Early infantile autism 

Leo Kanner mainly  focused on the early infantile autism in his reasearch. All of his subjects had a drastically delayed development of speech and a noticeable reduction in intelligence. He was the first person to observe stimming behavior and echolalia in autistic children.  He described autism as:

Lack of affective contact with others  Children don’t react to social stimuli. They don’t smile back, they are more interested in things than in faces.

Obsessive desire for the preservation of the sameness A need for routines in regard to eating, sleeping, getting dressed, etc.

A fascination for objects with manipulative mechanisms  For example gyroscopes, etc.( Things that work simple.); these are mostly handled with fine motor skills. 

Mutism or a language that doesn’t serve communicational purposes  This is for example the echolalia mentioned above (repetition of words/phrases, etc.) or making noises which are “not approrpriate” (for example humming as a reply, or making animal noises, etc.) 

Intelligent and pensive physiognomy and good cognitive potential  Regardless of the reduction in intelligence, Kanner observed that the autistic boys he studied still had some very specific cognitive talents. 

Kanner has also been the first person to “blame” mothers for their autistic children. He concluded that mothers of autistic children were “cold, distanced” and “not loving enough”, naming this as the main reason for autism. He also observed that most parents of autistic children seemed to be very intelligent. 

Hans Asperger - Asperger Syndrom 

Hans Asperger was the first scientist who stopped seperating autistic people from their autism. He had the opinion that every human beigns character consists of unique traits that, as he put it “give each other meaning”. He saw every person as an individual and autism defined as a varrying set of “normal” traits. He concluded from his observations that the only way to identify an autistic individual was by looking at their traits and character as whole (something that nowadays many people don’t understand or get right. Which is even more devastating considering that this knowledge has been around for almost 90 years now).  His observation of autistic traits were pretty similiar to Kanner’s, even though he made some additional observations (which I will list here): 

Unusual speech  This includes echolalia, using noises and phrases for something other than communication and using words and phrases that some would rather expect from a grown-up from an early age on. This pattern of speech sounds unnatural, causing others to make fun of it or not taking the autistic individuals seriously 

Different way of learning  While allistic children tend to take advices from others, autistic children mainly base what they know and are able to do on their own observations and conclusions. Autistic children are basically self-taught in all regards. 

Mature perspective on their surroundings  Asperger describes the perspective of autistic children as just as mature as their speech. Autistic children are interested in topics that are (far) ahead of their age and have unique perspectives on the matter. 

Different relation to their surroundings  Asperger describes autistic children as “more conscious about their surroundings” in comparison to allistic children. He describes autistic children as hyper aware of everything and yet oddly distanced. He concludes that autistic children have this conciousness because of their distance, concluding that it gives them the chance to “observe from the outside”. 

Odd social behavior  As previously described, Asperger observes that autistic children have a distanced relationship to their surrondings. He sees the cause for these issues in the way that autistic people see social interaction, describing it as an inability to process social interaction other than cognitive. Autistic children also tend to have different instinctive reactions to social stimuli than allistic children. 

Last but not least, Asperger concludes that there is a lot of potential in autistic children. He says that “not everything that is different has to be inferior” and that instead, people should see autistic individuals as valuable for their unique talents and skills. 

My Conclusion 

Kanner- and Asperger-Syndrom have been viewed as parts of “different ends of the spectrum” for a long time. Kanner-Syndrom was always branded as early-infantile/low functioning autism while Asperger was perceived as something “even better” than high functioning autism. (yuck yuck yuck).  However, if you observe the points made by both Kanner and Asperger, you’ll notice that there are a lot of similarities. And that the only real difference lies in how much in-depth the analysis of both “professionals” were. 

I think it’s also obvious how Kanner’s theories are more ableist than Aspergers. 

Psychology today still focuses on Kanner’s description of autism more than on Asperger’s. Many people are still convinced that both of them described different types of autism. 

In my opinion, it’s important to know how similar both theories are. And how the only real difference is in the observed intelligence level which, frankly, is a kind of difference that also occurs in neurotypical people all the time (because variations in intelligence are a general thing! Who would’ve guessed!? [sarcasm]). 

So please, autistic and allistic people who read this… bear in mind that the differentiation auf autistic people based on intelligence and “functioning” is higly ableist and has its roots in the begining of research on autism. If you’ve got the spoons, try to educate people about it or, if you liked this overview, link them to my post! 

[topicprinter]

I originally posted this as a blog on medium - for some context, I'm the founder/ceo of a social media app for making plans with your friends. Odds are, you haven't read my first blog post detailing the story of my startup inception-launch. If you have a few extra minutes, the link will be in the comments - it provides some useful context for the things I’m about to write about. That said, reading it is not required to be able to learn something from this post.1: Discipline and focus are muscles.Until I started working on my app, I was not a disciplined person by any stretch of the imagination. I was diagnosed with ADD in 10th grade, but I view it more as a label more than a diagnosis — it’s not a label I’ve resigned to, but instead is something I recognize and actively work on. One my ADD tendencies is needing near instant gratification in order to preserve my interest. It doesn’t help that we live in a world where attention is currency and companies profit from manipulating your brain into releasing as much dopamine as possible.The best benchmark for my ability to focus is how much I rely on music. Before I began working on my app, I needed to listen to music in order to focus on a task. The fundamental part of ADD is being easily distracted — my prefrontal cortex is simply worse at filtering out external stimuli than the average person (which I’m honestly grateful for, but I’ll get into that more in a future blog post). If I wasn’t listening to music I knew well enough to predict what came next, I would become distracted by novel stimuli (especially sounds) without consciously realizing I was now thinking about something else.Now, a year and a half later, I rely on music much less. I have a coding playlist that started off being mostly instrumental music (shoutout Ratatat), but grew to include more music with words as I became better at ignoring the words to focus. I still prefer to listen to music while I work, but it’s not a necessity to prevent myself from being distracted. This is mostly a product of habitual meditation.I set hourly reminders to do some quick meditation by focusing on 10 breaths — this means turn your music off, close your eyes, sit up straight, and take deep, slow breaths. This should take at least a minute.It took me less than a week to notice a dramatic difference in my general mental state: I was more aware and present with my tasks, which is one of the parts of ADD I struggle with most. I also felt generally more at ease throughout the day, and I could calm my mind more easily and fall asleep faster at night.Another ADD tendency is hyperfocus — when I’m in the middle of something (especially coding) it’s hard to tear myself away and do nothing except focus on breathing. This is because the less conscious part of my mind (the one that makes impulsive decisions) views meditation as high effort and low reward. I’d rather continue programming because when I finish a task, I get a dopamine release. Meditating is not only hard, it’s boring — and there’s no real immediate reward. However, any work I’d get done in the minute break doesn’t compare to the higher quality work I produce over the next hour because I took the time to step back and become more present with everything I’m doing.​2: Be honest with yourself.This requires removing your ego from most things. If you can’t admit your shortcomings or learn from your mistakes, you’ll stagnate, and to stagnate is to fail. Attempting to preserve my ego by deluding myself into believing I can focus just as well as everyone else with the same level of effort is only going to hurt me in the long run.When I had the idea of an app that helped you make plans with your friends my freshman year of college (Spring 2016), I didn’t get very far. Despite having a strong background in tech/comp sci — I’d only written two lines of code in a project folder called munchr before giving up.Why did I give up? It was easier to blame the fact that another app for making plans (DownToLunch) was blowing up than to admit I wasn’t disciplined/motivated enough to get to a point where I could make progress.My motivation to build the app (at least, in that stage of my life) primarily revolved around the end goal of me being a famous CEO worth hundreds of millions of dollars. As it turns out, the fantasy of the view from the summit of CEO Mountain was not a powerful enough motivator to keep me climbing — nor would it have ended up fulfilling me as much as I expected anyway. You have to work on something because you love the process, and I did not yet love the process of creating, because —and this may come as a surprise — it’s pretty fucking hard.​3: You are your best asset. Invest in yourself.I read somewhere that as a founder, you should value your time at $500 an hour. If you break it down, it’s not all that outlandish a theory — if it takes you 4 years at 50 hours a week to make a startup worth $10m, each of those hours were worth almost $1k.You should do everything in your power to make your time as productive as possible. This means sleeping at least 8 hours, eating healthy, and exercising. Get up and walk around at least once an hour. Your success is not measured by time spent, but by your output. Your output has diminishing returns with how much time you spend working.Invest in your developing environment. In terms of your output, there are two types of friction — mental (how fast you can move ideas from your head to the real world) and physical (how fast your computer reflects those ideas). There’s a lot I do in my developing environment to cut out both types of friction, but I’ll get more into that in a future blog post.On my 2015 MacBook Pro, saving a file and having the iPhone simulator recompile my changes took about 5 seconds. I was lucky enough to land some investment money from family and friends in January of 2018, and my first purchase was a 2017 MacBook Pro with pretty beefy specs. My shiny new MacBook Pro refreshes changes in less than 2.5 seconds. On average, I save and recompile 5 times a minute. Over the course of an 8 hour day, that’s over an hour just waiting for my changes to be reflected. At $500/hour, the cost of my new MacBook was made up in less than a week.I am very privileged to be in a position where I can afford expensive toys like that, and I recognize not everyone else shares that privilege. However, the point still stands — your first priority should be to cut out all the friction involved in your output that you can.​4. Do things that make you extremely uncomfortable.I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it many times — starting up is by far the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done. In the 1.5 years I’ve been working on my app, I’d estimate I’ve grown to be a new version of myself four times. It did not happen easily — growth is more often painful than not. There are three major things I’ve done that serve as benchmarks for personal growth.4.1: I raised money from family and friendsThe very nature of creativity is to be vulnerable — taking an idea and putting it out into the world is to open yourself to all forms of rejection. Pitching my app to raise money from family and friends was the first significantly uncomfortable thing I did. Most said no — this is where being able to remove your ego becomes so important. To take rejection personally and believe you were rejected becauseyour idea is badwhoever you pitched to doesn’t think you’re smart enough to see it throughis more than enough to make most people give up. Instead, view their rejection for what it actually is — humans are very irrational and resistant to change.​4.2.0: I started taking ice cold showersAll my life, I’ve despised cold water. It was a running joke in my family — I’d take my sweet time getting into a pool inch by inch, and wouldn’t go into the ocean until August. When I first told my parents I’d been taking cold showers, they laughed hysterically because they thought I was kidding. After months of insults directed at my willpower, my co-founder Alden finally got me into taking ice cold showers. When I say ice cold showers, I mean the coldest possible setting. If it doesn’t make you involuntarily gasp when you get in, and if you don’t hate it the whole time, it’s not cold enough.I’ve been taking cold showers since September 2018, and it hasn’t gotten much easier — as winter set in and the coldest setting on the shower became colder and colder, the only way I’m willing to subject myself to them is by sitting in the sauna at the gym until my consciousness starts dissolving. At the same time, the benefits haven’t gone away either (as someone who is very driven by the ratio of effort to reward, this is important) — if anything, the benefits have become more profound. After the first few seconds of severe discomfort, I literally feel unstoppable. You’ll never feel more alive than the first few seconds of cold shock as your body freaks out and produces an adrenal response in an effort to maintain homeostasis. Why do PCP when you can achieve the same feeling with some cold water?There are countless health benefits of cold immersion therapy that people obsess over, but the benefit people usually fail to mention is what it does to your willpower. The energy required to eat healthy and focus throughout the day pales in comparison to the energy I expend in forcing myself to endure freezing cold water until I’m covered in goosebumps and shivering. I didn’t start out that way — like I said earlier, discipline is a muscle. Unless you’re Drake, it’s hard to go from 0 to 100 real quick (or in this case, 100° to 40°): start by ending your showers cold, or toggling between hot and cold. The more you exercise your body’s ability to maintain homeostasis, the more comfortable you will be in the cold, and in general.4.3: I got rejected, oftenAfter we launched in April of 2017, I ordered a couple thousand stickers. My teammates and I would spend 30 seconds explaining the app while handing them out to people in dining halls/dorms on campus. People would say “I’m not really interested, sorry” straight to my face, or leave the stickers behind wherever they were sitting. I won’t lie to you, that really fucking hurt.Saying “take your ego out of things, don’t take things personally” is a lot easier than actually doing it. As much as it hurt to be told that whoever I’d just pitched to didn’t care, it motivated me 10x more. I became immune to the fear of rejection — if the worst case scenario of putting yourself out there is getting rejected and ending up in the same place you started, fuck it, send it bröther. Odds are, you’ll learn something.5. Learn to say “Fuck It, Send”.I am probably the biggest perfectionist I know. I used to make memes/write jokes on twitter (I'll link a collection of them in the comments). This was before the limit was 280 characters, which was a blessing as much as it was a curse— when I had a tweet idea, I’d sit on it for days or even weeks until I was certain it was written the best way it could be delivered.​Here's the joke I'm most proud of, which currently stands at 48k likes and 4.5 million impressions (all organic):Her: when you said "magical in bed" this isn't exactly what I was exp-Me: *holds up 8 of hearts* is this your cardHer: *softly* holy shit At 139 out of the former 140 character limit, I tweeted/deleted 5 different versions of it over two weeks before I was finally satisfied it was in the best format it could be.5.1: MVPMinimum Viable Product is an art as much as it is a science — for example, my app didn’t launch until users had the ability to peek other college’s feeds. In hindsight, we shouldn’t have built that functionality until people started actually downloading it at other schools. It’s hard to have that kind of foresight — I was utterly convinced it was going to blow up immediately and I didn’t want to launch before we were prepared for scale. The only way I found out otherwise was by putting it out into the world, something I would’ve done sooner if I didn’t fall into the One More Feature trap. Having your app/servers crash because they’re not properly equipped for scale is one of the best problems you can have.5.2: One More FeatureIt’s not hard to fall into the trap of thinking that this One More Feature is going to be the difference between success or not. It’s much easier to sit behind a screen and develop more functionality than to put your ideas out into the world where they face rejection. This is where being honest with yourself is so important — is this one thing really what will make or break you? Or are you working on that feature because you’re more comfortable developing than going out into the world and trying to get people to use your product?5.3: Push NotificationsIn the early stages of launch, we sent very few push notifications. I was scared to annoy people — if I sent too many, they’d delete the app, and we’d never get anywhere. However, you have to understand that you don’t owe the people who aren’t using your product anything: the people that are one or two push notifications away from deleting your app are not the people that will be responsible for its success anyway. Obviously, don’t overdo it, but it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.Besides investing in yourself, learning to say “Fuck It, Send” is the best thing you can do for your product — the sooner you get it out into people’s hands, the sooner you figure out why it sucks (which it inevitably will) and what you actually need to focus on to get it going.It also helps you prioritize the right things. Being the CEO, sole frontend developer, lead marketer, and literally every other role besides backend leaves me with much more on my plate every day than I can ever hope to get done. If I don’t focus on what actually matters, I’ll fail. This ultimatum is more a blessing than a curse, and the reason startups are even successful to begin with.​These are just five of the innumerable lessons I’ve learned on this adventure, and I will be writing about more of them in the future. If you enjoyed this or learned something and want to keep up with my future blog posts, let me know and I'll drop you a link to my twitter/mailing list.

[squibblins]

the longest talk ever about my warden under the cut i’m sorry

mahariel’s really just following orders from marethari. if she hadn’t told him that being a grey warden was his duty then he would have just stayed the fuck home and probably died

that’s the only thing that keeps him going at first. duty is the most important thing to him, and the only thing he has left after losing everything he’s ever known and loved. but he hates humans for killing and separating his parents and just being dicks in general, now he has to go work for them? fuck this. he hadn’t even wanted to be a hunter, let alone a darkspawn hunter. (he’d wanted to be a halla keeper. he took the vallaslin of ghilan’nain, who happens to be the patron of hunters trying to find their way home. i love tragic symbolism).

then the mirror thing happened and he lost his sweetheart, his family, and his livelihood all in less than a week. at ostagar he’s snappish and irritable and the taint feels like fire in his veins. disappointingly, but perhaps unsurprisingly, he makes it through the joining.

for some reason the humans choose him to lead their growing group. most of the humans he’d met are either frightened of him or condescending towards him (and most of the time they want him dead). he expects them to question his leadership. that drives him to be a bit more blunt, to leave no room for doubt. mahariel is dalish; they’ve learned to make their own space, establish their own authority. the blight threatens the whole world, and to end it they must be swift and decisive in their actions. the hunter points the arrow and the rest fall in line. vir assan: fly straight and do not waver.

there are times when mahariel feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and his alone. he travels with strangers, humans and flat-ears and giants and one obnoxious drunken dwarf. no matter how many places their travels take them, no matter how many lives they save or tasks they complete, he can’t seem to shake the feeling that he’s just wandering, hopelessly lost. his sleep is constantly being interrupted by the archdemon. its song echoes in his dreams, as beautiful as it is terrifying. he is exhausted, paranoid, terrified, and trying desperately not to show it.

on the worst nights he thinks of his clanmates. their faces are fading from his memory, but their words never will. you are dalish, whispers marethari. vir bor’assan: bend, but never break.

the others eventually break through his shell. alistair is the first to do so (and he won’t let on, he promises); their shared experience as the last two surviving grey wardens brought them closer together than either of them expected to be.

wynne scrutinizes his actions, questions his motivations, and is happily surprised to find that her unsolicited advice is taken to heart. (wynne is a mage and an elder, and mahariel has been taught his whole life to respect their wisdom, even though she’s a shemlen.)

he has a very hard time getting along with leliana at first. she seems obsessed with the maker and her naïve attitude towards the second-class status of elves grates at him. eventually (grudgingly), the two of them begin to share small pieces of each other, and find that they share a love of stories and songs. (mahariel was raised on hahren paivel’s tales, and the dalish sing at every occasion.) at first mahariel would only listen to her tales, and as they became friendlier, he began to share stories of his own. (his clan was not here. they sent him away. they would not know he was telling dalish tales to shemlen.) when mahariel asks about bards, leliana offers to teach mahariel their ways. mahariel finds he has no patience for the politics of the empire, but he and leliana make a beautiful duet. their songs fill the camp at night and raise the spirits of those around them, though some would never admit it.

(i also like to think that mahariel had an influence on leliana’s strong support of elves in inquisition, and her reintegration of shartan’s verses into the chant of light when she becomes divine.)

to mahariel, sten is a walking talking puzzle. much like himself, sten is a fish out of water, an outsider thrust into a world that shows no love for their kind. and when they first meet sten is locked in a cage like an animal, waiting to starve or to be torn apart by the coming darkspawn. knowing the potential risks of releasing a murderer and asking him to follow, mahariel does so anyway because at this point he is purposefully ignoring all self-preservation instincts (at the time, mahariel saw death as a coming blessing). sten rivals mahariel in his obstinacy and general prickliness. they end up communicating mostly through grunts, looks, and sarcasm. they are perhaps the most alike out of all of mahariel’s companions. the (LEGENDARY) friendship they develop is heartwarming but troublesome in that sten seems to think that they might one day meet on opposite sides of a battlefield. honestly, they love each other (not like that but if he was a romance option then they would have TOTALLY boned), though they would never fucking say it to each other in a language they can both understand, except in looks and with action.

mahariel and shale have a healthy respect for each other. he immediately gets on shale’s good side for not trying to order the golem around. at first mahariel doesn’t quite trust the golem not to stomp on him if he gave them the chance. and shale doesn’t trust that mahariel seems to know exactly where to put an arrow in a golem so that it dies quickly. shale has always thought of strength as being a physical trait, so when mahariel finds clever ways to navigate a situation, it throws them completely off guard. they end up admiring mahariel for this, and the two build a strange and tentative friendship.

mahariel and morrigan often find themselves at odds when mahariel expresses any kind of compassion, except for when he expresses compassion to her. she falters, stutters, her icy composure drops. mahariel thinks sometimes that she seems... guilty about it.

he is as wary of morrigan as he is of flemeth at first. still, they admire each other’s cunning and skill in battle. she’s also one of the first people in camp to make mahariel laugh. they are very close by the time she presents the ultimatum. morrigan even approaches him once about becoming more than friends (or was that part of her plan all along?). whatever her motivations were, there’s no way they’d ever be together because mahariel is fucking gay.

he does not like oghren, and he honestly can’t tell if oghren likes him because most of the time he’s drunk and he seems to forget about anything he said the night before in the morning. they share booze on quiet nights and mahariel doesn’t hold back when they brawl. (mahariel and brawling is just a headcanon of mine, born from a throwaway tamlen line.)

then there’s zevran. mahariel spared zevran’s life because he’d pitied zevran, an elf bought on the slave market and trained to become a killer, raised without a family to keep him safe and loved. he told himself he kept zevran close to keep an eye on him, but at times it seemed that it was the other way around. i am your man without reservation, zevran had told him. this, i swear.

mahariel had a tendency to wallow in the past. he’s dalish, after all. remembering what his clan had taught him kept him from falling off the deep end, at least for a while. but zevran was all about moving on, about leaving the past behind him. while mahariel picked at old wounds, zevran opted to ignore them and hope they went away. neither of them liked to talk about their hurts, but found themselves opening up anyway.

they found they had these things in common: each lost a loved one (and blamed themselves), each sought a home they could not return to, and each sought death in duty.

zevran had never known the kind of trust he placed in mahariel (which scared him). mahariel helped him unlearn a lot of the training that made him cold and unwilling to love. and it was mostly from zevran that mahariel learned how to move the fuck on and seize joy in the present. they’re stupid in love and stuff. they admit to it in the worst way possible because they both act like expressing feelings is like pulling teeth. and even though they never say those exact words, they’re engaged by the time they go to fight the archdemon.

mahariel never thought he would see his family again. he certainly never thought that a group of mostly shemlen would replace them. of course they never truly could, but they helped soothe the ache that began the day this chaos began. as time went on, as they came to understand one another, mahariel felt less like he was carrying all of this responsibility on his own. vir adahlen: together we are stronger than the one.

morrigan gives him a choice, in the end. it would be the first time - and perhaps the last - that mahariel would forsake his duty.

mahariel at ostagar would have never agreed to do the dark ritual. killing the archdemon would be halam’shivanas: the sweet sacrifice of duty, the very thing he sought the day he left his clan. but since then he’d consorted with (even loved) shemlen and flat-ears and golems and qunari, played the politics of humans and dwarves, touched the lives of people young and old. he’d alleviated suffering and enacted justice. the people of ferelden came to see him as the Warden. he had become the personification of his duty. and mahariel was more sure than ever that he did not want it.

it was a huge, poorly calculated risk, to give the soul of an archdemon to a witch who he knew to often be selfish and cruel.

but he had already lost one family, only to gain another. and, as morrigan viciously reminded him, he could not bear to leave the people (especially the one) who taught him that this was a world worth living in.

it was, in the end, an act of selfish love that he would spend the rest of his life dreading the consequences of.

mahariel began his journey with only his duty to sustain him, and in the end found that he couldn’t commit to it because he ended up with too much to live for.