#I know this will probably be a controversial one

[infiniteglitterfall]

Incorrect.

Happy 50th anniversary to the first article that came up when I googled "'transsexual lesbian' 1974."

(I picked a year at random, and searched for transsexual instead of trans because nobody was using trans as shorthand back then.)

Gay Community News.

February 22, 1975

"The Lesbian/Transsexual Misunderstanding."

By Margo. (Illustrated by a large grayscale photo of a long-haired lesbian doing a sort of show-offy squat pose in a pleated floor-length maxi skirt. actually she might be sitting on a stool we can't see, idk my image processing skills are crap. The photo is captioned, "This is Margo!" I'm going to bold things here and there for emphasis and easier reading; the original just bolded the beginnings of some paragraphs for easier reading.)

Being both a radical Lesbian and a male-to-female transsexual, I find myself at a vortex of conflict between the Lesbian and transsexual communities. In my more pessimistic moments, I sometimes feel as if the whole Lesbian community is down on me for being transsexual, and vice versa; in my more optimistic moments, I feel like writing articles like this one.

Although a few people have made Lesbian/transsexual controversies an arena for sheer hatred and bigotry, my hope is that honest misunderstandings between the overlapping Lesbian and transsexual communities are at the root of most problems.

To begin with, I myself as a Lesbian feminist have observed a great deal of sexism and heterosexual chauvinism among male-to-female transsexuals which must be upsetting to any Lesbian or even any straight feminist.

For example, Jan Morris (on the Dick Cavett Show) spoke about the "tragic" case of a male-to-female transsexual who desired Lesbian relationships after surgery: Cavett commented that the idea of a transsexual choosing Lesbianism was just too confusing to discuss further. As a Lesbian who considers love between women to be simple and very natural, I was depressed and angry.

Yet often transsexuals on television and other media make Ms. Morris seem feminist. They extol home and family as the essence of femaleness, reject gayness as immoral or unnatural, and define themselves in relationship men. When I hear such interviews, I find myself virtually crawling up a wall; it does not surprise me that other Lesbian women react in the same way.

At the same time, I have experienced a great deal of pain from the conduct of some Lesbians toward me as a transsexual. The dilemmas I face are almost identical to those faced by Lesbians in the feminist movement a few years ago. If I proclaim my transsexualism, I will be perceived as separating myself from my natively female Lesbian sisters; if I say nothing unless and until I am asked, I will be judged as hiding some vile secret.

Last year I became involved with a group of Lesbian anarchists; I was immediately accepted as myself, a very freaky Lesbian. Then, at the beginning of the next meeting, everyone froze toward me; I had become a "problem" to them, as Lesbians were a problem for straight feminists not so long ago. "Was it true?", they asked in so many words, as if this were the Fifties and I was rumored to be a former Communist. In the end I won at least temporary acceptance; but I did so by apologizing for rather than celebrating my struggle of 22 years to become the woman I felt was me.

On another occasion I was at a feminist bar, where I met a woman who did not know me but who had put down Lesbian transsexuals in general. We got along well; she related to me simply as a Lesbian woman (which I am), and I discovered that she also was a sensitive human being. Yet I was haunted by the feeling that if she knew my past she would probably have rejected me, even at the same time as felt that my past should be irrelevant.

It is like being Gay in a job situation where the boss does not know. You are not hiding it, you are just being your natural self; but you wonder how the boss would react if she/he knew. There is a strange closety tension about it all. Can I feel comfortable among other Lesbians who accept me as the real person I am, but would reject me if they knew how I got there?

At this point in time there are many transsexuals who would throw Lesbians to the patriarchal wolves as long as they could live in their desired submissive "feminine" roles; there are some Lesbians who would ignore or even trample over transsexuals if this served their neat and rigid "revolutionary" plans. I would like to explore why it is that transsexuals ignore or even ridicule Lesbians and vice versa, but first we must deal with some aspects of human sexuality which are often confused.

In discussions of both gayness and transsexualism, there are three concepts which often get tangled or confused. First, there is one's overall feeling of being female or male, which I will refer to as gender identity. Secondly, there is one's preference in forming intense love relationships for one or both sexes (or even for a compatible human being regardless of sex), which I will call sexual preference, although I might prefer the term "amatory" preference in order to stress the element of love whether or not it is genitally expressed (more on this later). Finally, there is one's conformity or defiance (or simple ignoring) of sex roles, the arbitrary sexist definitions of what is supposed to be "feminine" or "masculine."

To begin with, many confuse gender identity with sex roles; and such confusion makes it impossible to understand transsexualisin. Perhaps I can make the distinction clear by considering a situation which many natively female Lesbians experience.

A radical feminist may challenge all sex roles: she may joyously celebrate her "masculine" strengths: she may repudiate all patriarchal definitions of what it means to be a woman; yet she still feels that she is female, and that all women are her sisters. Let us refer to this total affirmative feeling as femaleness.

In contrast, the patriarchal system speaks of femininity; this means being submissive, being a sex object, and above all being attractive to men rather than to oneself or one's sisters. Thus radical feminism means celebrating femaleness (sisterhood, women's culture, etc.) in our own terms while rejecting all sex role barriers (e.g. accepting both sensitivity and strength while rejecting both submission and domination).

I have found that living as a woman full-time for the past 16 months, celebrating my femaleness, has made me much stronger and more "masculine" in many ways. Musically, I find myself belting out some very gutsy Blues which border on screaming; I find this one of the heaviest expressions of my femaleness and Lesbianism. Recently a gay male at a coffeehouse called me a diesel dyke; I thanked him for letting me know that I have character!

In other words, as radical feminists we feel a deep sense of being women and sisters, but this feeling is beyond any definition or stereotype. This is true of us whether we are natively female or transsexual. We all face the same paradoxes and dilemmas. Once this is understood, a lot of Lesbian/transsexual tension may suddenly vanish.

Sometimes feminists have asked me why, if I consider sex roles both unjust and ridiculous, do I not just live as a man and express both my "feminine" and my "masculine" qualities in that way? In doing this they are assuming that somehow I have chosen to be a woman so that I can be "feminine."

In fact, I have chosen to live as a woman simply because that is what I am, and because only by affirming my femaleness and sisterhood with all women can I be myself, strong and filled with energy as well as sensitive. How would these feminists feel about living as men? Obviously they would consider it a masquerade, and would demand their right to celebrate their femaleness. So do I.

Moving to another confusion which many Gay people have battled against, gender identity must not be confused with sexual preference. Lesbians (as opposed to female-to-male transsexuals) are not biological females who have a male gender identity: they are simply women who love other women. Gay men (as opposed to male-to-female transsexuals) are not biological males who have female gender identities, but are men who love men.

People who are trapped in the het trip often find it contradictory for me to be transsexual and Lesbian, because they assume that to be a woman is to love men and vice versa. Thus my parents alternately would suggest that the main reason I wanted the change was to relate in straight ways to men; or, they would argue that if I were going to relate to women, why do I need to be a woman myself. My parents are two of the best meaning straights I have met, but I guess that they are still a bit confused.

However, there is no reason that my situation need be confusing to Gay people. Regardless of my native genitals, I feel myself to be a woman who loves women, or simply a Lesbian. As I wrote above, I consider love between women to be a natural thing, whether the women are native or transsexual. The problem is that sometimes even Gay people apply het logic to transsexuals: and I would say that a great majority of male-to-female transsexuals apply het logic to themselves and everyone else. For example, I read an interview in which a transsexual defined Lesbians as "women who want to be men. If I had been at that interview. I would have had some interesting comments to make!

Finally, of course, sexual preference is different from any stereotyped adherence to sex roles. We all know that gay and straight people cannot be separated in general on the basis of sex role behavior: even more importantly, we are struggling to get totally away from the butch/femme trip. For me, being a Lesbian woman means being both strong and sensitive, for love requires both qualities.

Unfortunately, my sister Lesbians sometimes hold anti-transsexual attitudes. By anti-transsexual attitudes, I mean prejudices which would exclude from the Lesbian movement those transsexuals who are living full-time as women, and would exclude them for any reason which would not equally exclude their native sisters. Opposition to sexism in any people, including both transsexuals and Lesbians, is of course necessary! Anti-transsexualism does not refer to this kind of opposition. Rather it refers to prejudice and exclusion directed against transsexuals as a category.

Before analyzing the reasons for anti-transsexualism among Lesbians, I feel it necessary to challenge one argument against even raising this issue: unfortunately, it is an argument which has gained currency in the Gay/feminist press in Boston.

According to this argument, the discussion of transsexualism causes disagreement in the Lesbian movement; and, after all, how many Lesbian transsexuals are there? The conclusion is that the suffering of a few strange people can and should be put safely aside until "after the revolution.

Further, it is sometimes even argued that transsexuals must take the responsibility for this dissension among their native Lesbian sisters; to use the favorite macho-radical phrase, transsexuals "are objectively counter-revolutionary" because they are distracting their native sisters from much more important things. I have been given this argument not only in print but in person.

In the year 1862, a number of Blacks met with President Lincoln to demand emancipation of the slaves. Lincoln replied that the important thing was preserving the Union, with or without slavery. Further, he argued that the slaves and Black people generally, were responsible for the Civil War, since without them there would be nothing for white people to fight about!

In the early 1960's, during a peace march in the American South, it was argued that segregation should not be raised as an issue, since that would alienate the white population of the region from joining in the struggle against nuclear war. After the world was saved, some people argued, then Jim Crow could be tackled.

Later in that decade, when women first demanded their rights in the male-dominated Left movements, they were put down: after all, women did not constitute a class or oppressed group, according to the going macho ideological definitions.

Little things like feminism could be dealt with after the working class (or Third World or whatever) was liberated. Further, women who demanded their own freedom were accused of being counter-revolutionary, since they were causing division and conflict among their male comrades.

At about the same time, Gay people were also accused of being "bourgeois decadents;" furthermore, they were obviously capitalist agents who would even stoop so low as to challenge the revolutionary government of Cuba for a few minor imprisonments of homosexual perverts.

Last but not least, around 1969 and 1970 straight feminists attacked Lesbians for "dividing the movement" and for raising issues "irrelevant to the majority of women, irrelevant to the main focus of our movement." Betty Friedan went so far as to call Lesbians "the Lavender Menace," and to suggest that Lesbians were CIA agents sent to disrupt the respectable feminist movement.

Thus it is not surprising that transsexuals should be treated in the same way that Blacks, women, gay people, and Lesbians specifically have been treated, and all in the name of "revolution." We also note that whites, men, and straights find it easier to postpone other people's liberation in the name of radicalism than to confront their own prejudices now. All Lesbians (transsexual and native) should reject this logic of slavery and hypocrisy, and all transsexuals who respect themselves should challenge it aggressively and without hesitation or apology.

At the Congress to Unite Women in 1970, the straight feminists in charge blocked a workshop on Lesbianism. About 20 Lesbians staged a nonviolent takeover of the Congress, in which they humorously and effectively presented the justice of their cause. They demanded that women be united by supporting Lesbian liberation rather than by ignoring or denouncing it. The time has come to unite women regardless of native genitals, and to unite them by all nonviolent means necessary.

Now we come to the specific reasons for anti-transsexualism in the Lesbian community. Of course, one reason is the very genuine mood of anti-Lesbianism among many transsexuals. It is important that we as Lesbians, avoid the classic prejudicial practice of judging all the members of a group by the actions of some.

However, coming to the other reasons. we find that misinformation and outdated sexist attitudes are crucial. The causes are basically: 1. Misinformation about transsexualism; 2. Overly narrow concepts of Lesbianism; 3. Misguided notions of polarization in the Lesbian/feminist struggle; and 4. Clinging to patriarchal definitions of sex and gender.

(This is not the end. Look for more of Margo in future issues.)

And here's a close-up of the sidebar, transcribed in alt text:

[gimmebackmyskeeball]

MEET LATINA POGUE READER!

latina pogue reader who looks nothing like the crap she likes.

latina pogue reader who is a certified eco warrior, the most expressive girl in The Cut, surfer, stoner & most likely a vegetarian totally has nothing to do with her body dysmorphia, loves a good dirty joke, a ridiculously forward person, looks like a total black cat but actually the biggest golden retriever when you get close to her.

latina pogue reader who has beautiful curls but always straightens them cause it looks ‘more sleek.’

latina pogue reader who totally swings both ways (sometimes she barely cares who she hooks up with, let alone the gender.)

latina pogue reader who always looks and smells rich even though she’s probably the poorest between the pogues (which, considering JJ, is saying a lot.)

latina pogue reader who likes Diet Coke, cherry cigarettes, weed, pineapples, cats, surfing, tanning and sunshine, the color yellow, pink and red, LDR’s music, old camp shirts, physical touches, long hot showers, swimming, skinny dipping, bikinis, surfing, mushrooms, musical movies, slurpees, hot guys, hot girls, her mom, seashells, gold jewelry, waking up late, R&B, sunsets, Bob Marley and Elvis Presley’s music, street lights and riding the dirt bike.

latina pogue reader who never really learned how to drive but forced JJ to teach her how to ride the dirt bike just to get better and spite him.

latina pogue reader who had a tumblr blogger phase in 2016 and sometimes still logs back her account (which is named some ridiculous shit like curvybaby17 or smth) to look at her and Kie’s old pics.

latina pogue reader who has insane daddy issues but truly believes she’s the best of the best, not in an egotistical way, she knows she pulled through all the troubles life gave her, making it all on her own and she’s confident that she can handle everything.

latina pogue reader who has insane motherly nature (being constantly called ‘mama’ by her favorite blonde), her comforting game is top tier— would recommend.

latina pogue reader who absolutely loathes Rafe and The Chipmunks and has bitch slapped Topper on the face before. one of her favorite moments in life.

latina pogue reader who could be an absolute bitch when she wants to…and some of her words are definitely controversial but you couldn’t pay her to care.

latina pogue reader who doesn’t handle disrespect very well and will make your life a living hell if you cross her. (bonus points if she trusted and cared about you to begin with.)

latina pogue reader who is the most confident freak you can meet.

latina pogue reader who is always the loud, opinionated one. she would never let a man beat her in anything. and I mean anything.

latina pogue reader who needs people to perceive her intelligence. she needs them to know that she's smart and not ‘trailer trash’, that she has something important to contribute to the society.

latina pogue reader who is the biggest softie underneath her loud mouth, scary attitude and maneater aura.

i love her and have a whole ass arc for her :(

[datvtranscripts]

In Peace, Vigilance Pt. 1

First Warden Jowin

Signs and Portents Masterpost Previous: Maevaris Tilani

Rook enters the Cobbled Swan and is greeted by the First Warden.

First Warden: I am Jowin Glastrum, First Warden and Supreme Commander of Weisshaupt. I received word of your team's request for Grey Warden assistance after an incursion of the blight at D'Meta's Crossing.

Origin Dependent Dialogue:

Grey Warden [1]

Antivan Crow [2]

Lord of Fortune [3]

Mourn Watch [4]

Shadow Dragon [5]

Veil Jumper [6]

1 - Grey Warden First Warden: Explain yourself, Warden, and bear in mind that the Order remembers your past recklessness.

Dialogue options:

Affable: Of course, ser. [7]

Sarcastic: Funny you should say that… [8]

Stoic: I saved those villagers! [9]

7 - Affable: Of course, ser. Rook: Sure, I disobeyed orders. I acted on my own choices, without authority. I admit it. But I took an oath to defend people from the blight. I uphold that oath any way I can. First Warden: Your report, Warden. [10]

8 - Sarcastic: Funny you should say that… Rook: My past… right. When I disobeyed orders and dropped a building on a darkspawn horde. I see you haven't forgotten. First Warden: Your report, Junior Warden. [10]

9 - Stoic: I saved those villagers! Rook: Many lives would've been lost if not for my recklessness. First Warden: You destroyed a building. Rook: To seal off a darkspawn tunnel to the surface. First Warden: In defiance of orders. Rook: Those orders were wrong. Ser. First Warden: Your report, Junior Warden. [10]

10 - Scene continues.

Rook: I was part of a team trying to stop an elven mage named Solas from destroying the Veil. When we disrupted his ritual, something escaped from the Fade, and I clearly sensed the corruption of the blight.

First Warden: From this mage, Solas?

Rook: No, ser. Solas opposes the blight. He's actually an elven god, Fen'Harel. The Dread Wolf. [15]

2 - Antivan Crow First Warden: I looked into you. An upstart assassin whose grandstanding against the Antaam attracted too much attention. Sounds brazen, even for an Antivan Crow.

Dialogue options:

Affable: I had to save those people. Rook: Do you know what the Antaam do to prisoners? Those people needed saving and I didn't have time to ask for permission.

Sarcastic: Thanks! Rook: I'll take that as a compliment.

Stoic: Should’ve told me the plan. Rook: I saw a perfect opportunity to ambush the Antaam. Rook: If the Talons wanted me to stick to their plan, they should've told me about it.

First Warden: So, I'm interested in hearing how an Antivan killer-for-hire unleashed the blight. [11]

3 - Lord of Fortune First Warden: Treasure hunters are common as flies, but I've never met one ostracized for killing a Rivaini noble. Your Lords of Fortune leaders apparently didn't appreciate the subsequent political attention.

Dialogue options:

Affable: The man was corrupt. Rook: The man cut a secret deal with the Venatori. He was about to hand them a dangerous relic. I couldn't let that happen. The reports you received from Rivaini diplomats probably left that part out.

Sarcastic: Oh. Maybe I shouldn’t have? Rook: Right. I should've considered the political nightmare before all else. Just let the man unleash an ancient evil and kill my crew.

Stoic: He deserved it. Rook: That rich man deserved what he got. Think what you will, but I don't have to defend my actions to you.

First Warden: Fine. I've little time to waste on the unruly antics of treasure hunters. Tell me how you unleashed the blight. [11]

4 - Mourn Watch First Warden: How does a Mourn Watcher come to be involved with the blight in Arlathan? And not just any Watcher, but a controversial figure after what you pulled during that undead rebellion.

Dialogue options:

Affable: I can explain. Rook: I stopped that rebellion my way to protect the living. Didn't make me popular, but surely a Grey Warden sworn to defend others would understand.

Sarcastic: My past? Controversial? Rook: Right. Talk to the people I saved. They don't call my actions controversial. Some traditional Watchers called my actions "casual destruction of the dead," but they weren't there.

Stoic: Is this relevant? Rook: My decisions regarding our noble dead are hardly relevant here.

Mage Rook: First Warden: Very well. Then I'd like to hear how a Nevarran necromancer unleashed the blight. [11]

Non-Mage Rook: First Warden: Very well. Then tell me how a Nevarran necromancer-apologist unleashed the blight. [11]

5 - Shadow Dragon First Warden: You're a Shadow Dragon, I hear. A criminal organization of Tevinter insurgents. I was not surprised to learn that you are wanted for numerous offences, including theft, murder, and wanton destruction of property.

Dialogue options:

Affable: Criminal? Probably. Rook: When laws are written by the corrupt, it makes criminals of all who fight back.

Sarcastic: Some Wardens are Criminals. Rook: I hear the Grey Wardens take in criminals. Thieves, murderers, and… oh, probably vandals, too. I'd wager I'm in good company.

Stoic: I wrecked a slaver ring. Rook: Theft? You mean rescuing enslaved people. Murder? You mean the Venatori cultists who enslaved those people. First Warden: And destruction of property? Rook: Just felt like it.

First Warden: Fine. All I want to know is how a Minrathous crook unleashed the blight. [11]

6 - Veil Jumper First Warden: I looked into you. An adventurous Veil Jumper best known for discovering, then losing, an invaluable map. I'd imagine that caused a certain resentment among your Veil Jumper superiors.

Dialogue options:

Affable: I saved lives. Rook: The expedition was in trouble. I knew going back to help my fellow Jumpers likely meant losing that map. I wanted that ancient knowledge, but I wouldn't risk lives for it.

Sarcastic: Probably for the best. Rook: It's probably for the best, despite what some senior Veil Jumpers think. What we encountered in those ruins almost killed us all.

Stoic: You’re here about the blight. Rook: That's Veil Jumper business. You're here to talk about Grey Warden business. The blight.

First Warden: Explain to me how a Veil Jumper poking around in elven ruins unleashed the blight. [11]

11 - Scene continues.

Dialogue options:

Affable: Let me explain. [12]

Sarcastic: “Unleashed?” [13]

Stoic: I saved the world from Solas. [14]

12 - Affable: Let me explain. Rook: We've been tracking a mage named Solas. He's actually several thousand years old. In elven mythology, he's known as Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf, god of lies. First Warden: That is a number of titles. Rook: Well, Fen'Harel is elven for "Dread Wolf," so that only counts as one. But yeah, you're not wrong. Anyway, he wanted to tear down the Veil and restore the ancient elven empire. We stopped his ritual. [15]

13 - Sarcastic: “Unleashed?” Rook: I think "unleashed" is a little strong. It was an unfortunate side effect. First Warden: The blight was a side effect? Rook: Yes, of stopping the Dread Wolf, elven god of lies, from destroying the Veil. We did stop him, by the way. You're welcome. [15]

14 - Stoic: I saved the world from Solas. Rook: I was stopping an elven god from bringing down the Veil and destroying the world. First Warden: An elven god? Rook: Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. He goes by Solas. He's got a lot of names. [15]

15 - Scene continues.

First Warden: I did not come here to listen to fairy tales. I am here because of the blight.

Dialogue options:

Affable: This is all one problem. [16]

Sarcastic: Hang on, it gets worse. [17]

Stoic: This is real. [18]

16 - Affable: This is all one problem. Rook: Right, but it all ties together! See, when we disrupted the ritual, Solas got trapped in the Fade. But two of the elven gods got out. Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, we think. And they're blighted.

17 - Sarcastic: Hang on, it gets worse. Rook: We haven't even gotten to the real fairy-tale parts yet. When we stopped Solas, two elven gods escaped from where he'd imprisoned them. Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. And they're not just evil. They're blighted.

18 - Stoic: This is real. Rook: It's no fairy tale. When we stopped Solas, something got out. According to the Veil Jumpers, it was the elven gods Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. And they're not just evil. They're blighted.

19 - Scene continues.

First Warden: Why would elven gods be blighted?

Rook: The ancient elven gods used the blight. That's why Solas imprisoned them. The point is that the gods are making the blight worse. D'Meta's Crossing was just the start. That's why we need the Grey Wardens.

First Warden: I suspected more politicking from the remnants of the Inquisition. I see now that I was wrong.

Rook: I'm really glad to hear that.

First Warden: It is clear that whatever you did to unleash the blight has corrupted your already-weak mind.

Rook: Okay, wait.

First Warden: You will be taken to Weisshaupt and placed under heavy guard until the danger you caused by unleashing the blight passes.

Dialogue options:

Stoic: Think again. [20]

Afraid: Please listen to me! [21]

Angry: Just listen, you idiot! [22]

20 - Stoic: Think again. Rook: That's not gonna happen. First Warden: I assure you, it will. Rook: We don't have time to fight. I need Grey Wardens marching with me, not at me. That's the only way we have a chance to stop the gods and the blight.

21 - Afraid: Please listen to me! Rook: No, please, you can't do that. First Warden: I assure you, I can. Rook: I don't know how much time we have! The gods are doing something with the blight—we need to stop them!

22 - Angry: Just listen, you idiot! Rook: Are you kidding me? First Warden: I assure you, I am deadly serious.

Grey Warden Rook: We don't have time to play "Who's the Greyest Warden"!

Non-Grey Warden Rook: I don't have time to sit here and stroke your—ego.

Rook: You need to shut up and listen! The threat is real. The gods are coming, and they're bringing the blight with them.

23 - Scene continues.

First Warden: Let me tell you something about the blight. It is evil, it is implacable, and above all, it is predictable. The blight has not changed in over a thousand years. The Grey Wardens will defeat it, as they always do.

Grey Warden Rook: First Warden: And we will do so without a disgraced junior Warden causing needless confusion.

Non-Grey Warden Rook: First Warden: And we will do so without you causing confusion with your deranged conspiracy theories.

First Warden: I suggest you come along quietly.

Their conversation is suddenly interrupted.

Dorian: Adamant Fortress. 9:41 Dragon. The Grey Wardens attempted to raise an army of demons. Hardly the models of good judgment yourselves, are you?

First Warden: Everyone knows Warden-Commander Clarel acted alone at Adamant Fortress.

Dorian: Acted alone, you say? Imagine if everyone were to see the letter I discovered where you authorize her actions. I wonder how that might complicate the narrative.

First Warden: Are you prepared to risk the security of the Grey Wardens for this deluded boy?

First Warden: Are you prepared to risk the security of the Grey Wardens for this deluded girl?

First Warden: Are you prepared to risk the security of the Grey Wardens over this?

Dorian: You may be surprised to learn that I care very little about the security of the Grey Wardens.

First Warden: Stay away from the blight, and do not pester the Grey Wardens with any more of your nonsense.

the First Warden leaves.

Dorian: He seems upset. Was it something I said?

Dialogue options:

Affable: Thanks for the assist. [24]

Sarcastic: You just blackmailed him! [25]

Stoic: Who are you? [26]

Shadow Dragon: Magister Pavus? [27]

24 - Affable: Thanks for the assist. Rook: That was close. Wasn't looking forward to being dragged off to a Grey Warden dungeon. Who should I be thanking for the assist? Dorian: Magister Dorian Pavus. At your service. [28]

25 - Sarcastic: You just blackmailed him! Rook: You have blackmail material on the leader of the Grey Wardens just lying around? Dorian: Of course not. Where would I obtain something like that? Rook: Oh, you were bluffing. That's actually scarier. Dorian: Magister Dorian Pavus. At your service. [28]

26 - Stoic: Who are you?

Grey Warden Rook: Rook: Who are you? How do you know about Adamant? And Clarel? Dorian: I was there.

Non-Grey Warden Rook: Rook: Who are you? Why do you have dirt on the Grey Wardens? Dorian: I was at Adamant.

Dorian: Magister Dorian Pavus. At your service. [28]

27 - Shadow Dragon: Magister Pavus? Rook: Magister Pavus? Your timing is impeccable. Dorian: A flawless entrance, I'd say. Rook: Thanks for the rescue. I don't think I could've survived a Grey Warden prison. [28]

28 - Scene continues.

Dorian: A mutual friend thought you might require some support.

Rook: Maevaris Tilani? Of the Shadow Dragons?

Dorian: The very same.

29 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: You’re a Shadow Dragon agent? [30]

Sarcastic: I think we made an enemy. [31]

Stoic: The First Warden’s a problem. [32]

Afraid: I need the First Warden. [33]

30 - Investigate: You’re a Shadow Dragon agent?

Shadow Dragon Rook: Rook: I've heard other Shadows talk about you, but your relation to us was never entirely clear to me. You one of us? Or just a powerful ally? Dorian: Ah, that depends on your point of view. Perhaps you've heard of the Lucerni? Rook: Lightbringers. A political faction pushing for change in Tevinter. Dorian: Started by Maevaris and I, yes. After she was framed for treason, the faction was dissolved. Ostensibly. Maevaris Tilani is not a woman who surrenders easily. She just took the Lucerni underground. Rook: Oh. Bring the light. Dorian: She protected me. Kept my name spotless so I could remain in the Magisterium as her eyes and ears. So! One of you? Or just an ally? Which do you think? [Back to 29]

Non-Shadow Dragon Rook: Rook: What's your relation to the Shadow Dragons? Dorian: About a decade ago, Maevaris and I started a political faction called the Lucerni. We were going to change Tevinter for the better. Everyone would recognize the common sense benefits of our approach and we'd all live happily ever after. Rook: I take it that… didn't happen? Dorian: Maevaris was framed, kicked out of the Magisterium, and the Lucerni were dissolved. So she took the movement underground. Rook: The Shadow Dragons. Dorian: Since I still haunt the Magisterium, that makes me the Shadow Dragons' man on the inside. [Back to 29]

31 - Sarcastic: I think we made an enemy. Rook: I think we made an enemy of the First Warden today. Well, more you than me. He just thinks I'm a dangerous idiot. Dorian: (Scoffs) Enemy. I've ignored greater men. [34]

32 - Stoic: The First Warden’s a problem. Rook: The First Warden's a problem. If he won't help, I need him to stay out of my way. Dorian: I'm sure he'll show up again, like an ulcer. For now, pay him no mind. [34]

33 - Afraid: I need the First Warden. Rook: So now what? The First Warden tried to have me locked up. I need the Wardens on my side! Dorian: (Scoffs) Jowin Glastrum is not the Order. He's more politician than Warden. [34]

34 - Scene continues.

Dorian: No Grey Warden worth the name sits in a Minrathous lounge, sipping wine. You need the Wardens? Look for the ones out there fighting the blight. In the meantime, the Shadow Dragons will keep a close watch on the Venatori. Good luck. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon.

The scene fades, and one of Varric’s narratives cuts in.

Varric: Only the Veil stood between us and a world of blighted darkness. But on this side, the gods could only tap a trickle. They had to turn that trickle into a flood. They sure could've used Solas's dagger to rip open the Fade… But some foolish mortal had taken it. So, they'd have to create a dagger of their own. Drowning the world in blight was just a matter of time.

Next: A Familiar Dagger

[luv-lock]

Your context is exactly what I'm saying. It's not true by any means. It's all misinformations. Ubisoft is trying to rewrite history and that's why they're silencing Japanese people who are talking against this game on internet. They even changed the name "Samurai" in Japanese version because they knew it's not true.

Look at some comments from Japanese people:

— Because of you, some people overseas now believe that Yasuke, a black man, was a samurai who significantly impacted Japanese history. This has led to a harmful trend of black supremacists claiming that samurai originated from black people and that Japanese culture is essentially black.

AI-generated images of black samurai are now being spread as if they were historical facts. This is a very serious offense.

— We cannot accept the blurring of lines between fiction and reality.

While Japanese people are very tolerant of creative works, we cannot simply ignore the fact that our country's history is being distorted or grossly misunderstood by so-called historians who are careless about the truth. It is clear that Yasuke was not a samurai but rather a retainer of Nobunaga Oda.

Please understand.

— Oh my god! That shitty white woman in the UBi game was so condescending when she said, "They used to behead people all the time in Japan back then! (So barbaric!)" I rewatched it so many times. If they're going to portray Japan like that, they should at least release the original version in Japan, too!

— They told us that beheading was a daily occurrence in Japan, and now they’re telling us we can't do it in the Japanese version? I distinctly remember players were able to slice through enemies in Tsushima. So, changing "legendary samurai" to "fearless warrior" is the extent of your "modifications"? That’s just double-speak.

— Not content with just one fabricated theory, now they say that beheading is worse than gore? There are no records of a black "samurai" outside of that one fabricated paper. It's annoying how other countries take Assassin's Creed seriously, even though it's supposed to be historically accurate, especially with this Z rating and all the changes. It's different from the previous game. I don't have a problem with the concept, but the changes are in the wrong places.

— You're just trying to add fuel to the fire.

— Okay, I get it. So Ubisoft is trying to divide Japan and the rest of the world, huh? You want us Japanese to just sit back and let Westerners rewrite our history? Ubisoft is a terrible company.

— Of course, the overseas version is probably going to romanticize Yasuke as a 'legendary samurai,' aren't they?

— The product description on Amazon is severely lacking. I have already reported this issue, but please ensure that you address it properly. If you fail to do so, I will report this matter to the Consumer Affairs Agency, the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry, and other relevant authorities.

— I've been a long-time fan of the Assassin's Creed series and have purchased all previous titles. However, I've decided to wait and see before purchasing Shadows. While I was excited for a Japanese setting, the recent controversies have made it difficult for me to fully enjoy the game. It's disappointing.

— We wanted the Japanese version to be equal in terms of diversity.

Here's a Japanese man who talked many times about this game and everytime they took his video down because he was telling the truth about his own history. Click here to watch the video. He was also called racist by Americans/westerns just because he was telling his own history. As if you guys know our own history better than ourselves. Like I hate it when western trying to tell me my own history which I grow up reading about. I'm not Japanese but I'm Persian and western tried many time to tell me my own history and rewrite it.

Also @nightmaregiver is an Asian and they agree with me.

Also there's a rumors that they're going to delete Yasuke from the game because of the backlash and the fact that it's not historical accurate.

Ubisoft is a horrible company and they did the same with the prince of Persia. Another game that faces backlash and flop. And I'm so happy that they're closing.

STOP SPREADING MISINFORMATIONS. YOU JUST MAKE YOURSELF LOOK STUPID. Because the only place that a black samurai or black Cleopatra hold an argument is in the west (and not even there most of the time if people are actually educated). And it's because of White Saviors and Afrocentrics. Who lie because of their feelings. And I'm sorry if I sound harsh but it's true.

West need to fucking stop doing this shit!

This is not a samurai. This is not a Persian.

And this is clearly not Cleopatra.

How about y'all actually make something about actual black people? How about y'all make something about Muhammad Ali? Or someone else. We have enough black legends. You don't have to take other people's culture and history. Stop doing this shit. You made Persians mad, you made Egyptians mad and now you're pissing off Japanese.

[erinwantstowrite]

I'VE LITERALLY THOUGHT ABOUT HOW IF YOU WROTE A MIRACULOUS LADYBUG CROSSOVER FIC IT WOULD BE SOO AWESOME.. it was always along the lines of "I bet Erin would understand. I bet Erin would do it JUSTICE. Too bad they probably won't write it🤷" ANS YOU DO. YOU DO UNDERSTAND.

I UNDERSTAAAAAANDDD dude if i could have any superpower it would be 1) shapeshifting HOWEVER if i couldn't choose that i would choose the ability to clone myself so i'd have multiple me's to do more stuff. i'd be pumping out fic after fic and art after art and still be able to do responsibilities

also i haven't kept up at all with MLB besides absorbing info via my mutuals but i do know that Damian should kick Lila's ass. (or WHATEVER her name is now???? she's bald or smth?????)

[shinyboomboom]

Lia Zhang

"I heard Lia's ragged whisper "He put them in a hole'"

[afterthelambs]

Shuake and Jundori are basically the same ship

List of similarities between Joker/Akechi and Junpei/Chidori:

Ship is between a chill guy and an assassin

Characters share the same persona affinity (Arsene and Loki both use curse, Hermes and Medea both use fire)

Assassin's outfit colors are mainly white and red (specifically akechi's robin hood outfit)

Assassin's persona may hurt them (Loki has call of chaos and Medea attacks Chidori)

Assassin deceives the chill guy into thinking they're normal to get info on the group he's part of

Assassin betrays and kidnaps the chill guy + separates him from his friend group because he's the leader (Junpei was lying about being the leader but Chidori believed it)

Friend group is only cordial with the assassin at best but doesn't wish harm on them

Chill guy is the only one who truly connects with the assassin

Assassin insists they dont care about the chill guy but deep down they do

While responsible for their own actions, the assassin is still being manipulated by someone close to them

Revealed that the assassin's abilities were being exploited by the families of both games' wealthy Empress Arcana (Okumura used Akechi via Shido to assassinate enemies, Kirijo group used Chidori as a child experiment)

In late November, the assassin has a 1-vs-many fight against the chill guy and his friends

After you beat the assassin, the ones manipulating them appear and reveal they're willing to discard the assassin for being weak

The manipulators threaten to shoot the chill guy instead

Assassin sacrifices themself for the chill guy during the shooting

Chill guy's greatest wish was to be with the assassin and losing them challenges their resolve to fight (Joker may or may not fold on 2/2 but Junpei gets his resolve back as part of the plot)

Toxic doomed trope

If Royal and Reload (because thats what I played):

14. Chill guy and assassin have a special attack (showtime and theurgy)

15. Assassin died permanently in the original version of the games, but they can be saved in future remakes (if you spent enough time with them and made the right choices in-game)

I think that's it? But if anyone points out more I will edit this and add them

[agent-placeholder]

I've been quite irritable as of late, so I apologize for my earlier response. This my actual response. First, understand that mixing MBTI functions and Socionics elements is controversial because they are defined very differently. In my opinion, Socionics and MBTI are two different attempts at describing the same thing, so comparing them to each other is useful for understanding different perspectives, but were developed under very different conditions, not to mention that Aushra, who did most of the work on classical Socionics, was influenced by the work of a whole host of other Russian psychologists. If they are combined like you seem to like to do nowadays, you have to understand you will be working with something that can't be called fully MBTI or fully Socionics.

socionics is full of arbitrary dichotomies and then incorrect ones too.

Reinin dichotomies are called reinin dichotomies because this mathematician called Reinin figured that the socion (term for all 16 sociotypes) could be split evenly between 15 dichotomies based on certain traits. They're not arbitrary, they're based on patterns in the arrangement of IMEs in the types that are shared between any eight types, which I will go into more detail about in my next few paragraphs. There's no incorrect dichotomies, but I will concede that people do disagree on what traits shared between types in certain dichotomies are, not to mention that some of them are nearly useless in typing, although how many dichotomies and which ones is a subject of debate in the Socionics community, with some saying almost all Reinin dichotomies are useless and most asserting that there are around 3-5 useful ones.

for example central and peripheral. central is se and periphral is ne users. in model g, gulenko says alpha and delta quadras are peripheral. hmmm, i wonder why?

You say this like it's some sort of gotcha moment. Alpha and Delta quadras are peripheral because they consist of types who value Ne and Si, which would correspond to all xNxPs and xSxJs in MBTI. This doesn't contradict anything. Also, "Ne users" isn't a thing. Socionics makes it very clear that all types use all elements, which makes sense because the eight elements altogether account for every aspect of reality that can be percieved by humans.

merry quadras are just fe users. judicious / decisive dichotomy is actually the same thing with central and peripheral. what makes a type decisive? being thing-centric. being se direct. what makes a type judicious? preference to see things from different perspectives. just how many times you will rename the same thing?

"Thing-centric" and "preference to see things from different perspectives" is meaningless. "Thing-centric" could refer to anyone from logical types to sensorical types to extroverted types. Everyone focuses on things, dipshit, it came free with being able to assign sentimental value to objects.

Just because a certain dichotomy has several names doesn't invalidate it's existence, especially because the central/peripheral dichotomy is absolutely crucial to socionics as a whole, being the fifth strongest dichotomy after the four basic Jungian ones, so of course different socionists are going to come up with different names that they think are fitting. Centrality/Peripherality is also referred to as Altruism/Antagonism, or Cooperative/Competitive, or Reasonable/Resolute, and there's probably three other ones I've never heard of, but every socionist knows what central/peripheral means.

People have different opinions about what traits correspond to the Central/Peripheral dichotomy. Generally, people agree that central types are competitive, more willing to push themselves to the limit to get ahead of others, and more willing to push others aside to get their hands on what they want. In contrast, peripheral types are characterized as being more relaxed and altruistic, with more emphasis on working primarily to get a safe, comfortable, and enjoyable life, and helping others achieve this standard of living as well. Central types are more likely to be center-stage in global affairs, and peripheral types are more likely to live on the periphery in relative peace, hence the rather abstract name. It is important to note that most Socionics authors are Alpha NTs (ILEs and LIIs) who are Peripheral types with Se in their Super-Ego block, which means that many descriptions of Se and related behavior paints us as ruthless, cold-hearted, almost psychopathic bastards who will do anything and everything to get our grubby little hands on as much power as possible - basically, central types and centrality as a whole get demonized. In my opinion, centrality is characterized by a willingness to act to get ahead of others rather than fall behind, from which logically follows the inherent belief that the world is a place of struggle where resources must be taken from others and protected from others, who surely wish to do the same. Peripherality, on the other hand, is characterized by a desire for personal comfort, safety, and enjoyment, from which logically follows the inherent belief that the world is a place of plenty where resources should be shared freely and mutual cooperation is more beneficial than competition. (Being a central type, my personal understanding of peripherality may be skewed.)

farsighted and carefree dichotomy makes no sense whatsoever. you can say this dichotomy is dipshittery just from the introductin text here: Carefree / Farsighted is one of the 15 Reinin dichotomies. More research is needed to fully understand this dichotomy. no matter how much research you put into this, it won’t make sense. entj is carefree with te and ni? esfp and estp is farsighted with ni inferior? intp (lii) and infp (eie) is farsighted (procrastination monsters) while istj and istp both carefree? pure bullshit.

Your entire mockery is a fallacy of personal incredulity.

Where did you get this from? Wikisocion? Sociotype.com? Doesn't matter, this is one of the old ones. By the way, did you know that there are several organizations in Eastern Europe that actually do rigorous studies from which empirical data is taken? Talanov's gargantuan questionnaires and statistics come to mind. You can find some of them here, and more of them here, which I found from this Reddit post and is confirmed legit by the Reddit socionavigator account, who goes into some detail about how the statistics are collected.

The Farsighted/Carefree dichotomy makes perfect sense if you read about it for more than 5 seconds. It is also known as Incidental/Cautious, and imo "incidental" describes the carefree dichotomy better than the word "carefree." More more abstractly, it is known as Field-dependent/Field-independent. Carefree types are either ENxx or ISxx, and Farsighted types are either ESxx or INxx. The dichotomy is named such because whoever named it thought those adjectives best fit the shared traits observed from either side of the dichotomy.

Carefree types have evalutory Ne and Si*, meaning they make strong judgements about those functions, which means that they are inclined to use information in the immediate environment/timescale rather than planning ahead very far or trying to anticipate everything, because they make strong judgements about the available resources ("Don't worry about bringing too much - if we need something, we can find it.") Their solutions to a problem are typically adapted to that specific problem. They make strong judgements about Si (material safety, comfort, homeostasis in a given environment) and Ne (potential opportunities and ways to overcome obstacles).

Farsighted types have evalutory Ni and Se, meaning they make strong judgements yada yada yada which means they are more inclined to try to proactively prepare for anticipated changes or issues. ("We should bring a camera, and two towels, and decide which places we want to see, and….") They make strong judgements about Ni (anticipated surprises and issues in the long-term) and Se (accumulated power advantages and material resources).

*Evalutory means the element is either one of your strongest (leading or demonstrative) or weakest (suggestive or PoLR) functions.

negativist / positivist dichotomy is not that bad but whoever this “reinin” guy was, he didn’t have ti for sure. you can’t possibly find the underlying ti “law” why some types are negativists and others are positivists. enfp is a negativist but esfp is a positivist? okay… you think, so maybe ne makes a person negativist because after all these types share fi at the same slot? no. because entp is a positivist according to him and estp is a negativist.

I will give you this point, because negativism/positivism is based on something which a large number of socionists, including myself, find "logically superfluous." There's this idea that elements have plus or minus signs, which affect how they manifest.

Logic has a minus sign when blocked* with intuition and a plus when blocked with sensing.

Ethics has a minus sign when blocked with sensing and a plus when blocked with intuition.

Intuition has a minus sign when blocked with ethics and a plus when blocked with logic.

Sensing has a minus sign when blocked with logic and a plus when blocked with ethics.

*blocked refers to the Ego/Id/Super-Ego/Super-Id blocks, which essentially refer to any pair of elements next to eachother in a sociotype. For example, the Ego block of an ILI is NiTe. This means they have Ni+ and Te- despite being negativist, but I'll get to that in a second.

Positivists are either static with a plus leading function or dynamic with a minus leading function, vice versa for negativists. Static corresponds to MBTI xxxP and dynamic corresponds to MBTI xxxJ.

While plus/minus signs are weird, I have been able to observe positivism and negativism in others and myself, though my sample size isn't large enough to find anything conclusive.

strategic / tactical is the worst. most obviously, intj (ili) is a strategist, not a tactician. ni dominance (intuition of time) is a “dynamic” function with which you simulate the future and that IS strategizing, straight up. if ni dominant, ne ignoring, se inferior is not strategic then you know you are reading a dimwit.

Damn, your last take was so solid I almost forgot how dogshit the rest of this post is.

Tactical/Strategic has the same deal as Carefree/Farsighted, where the name is just because someone thought it was the best descriptor for the behaviors shared between any eight types with a certain theoretical similarity, not because some fuckwad thought it sounded cool and tried to turn it into a dichotomy like you seem to think.

Ahem.

Tactical types have inert intuition and contact sensing, which is commonly interpreted as tactical types having clear methods with goals subject to manipulation, while strategic types have contact intuition and inert sensing, meaning they have clear goals with methods subject to manipulation. That's it. Because "goals" is linked to sensing, in this case it specifically refers to "things you want in real life" whether that be an object or state of being.

INTJs are strategic because their leading function is intuitive and their suggestive function is sensorical, which means they have inert intuition and contact sensing. That's it. That's what that fucking means, not your MBTI INTJ-glazing "b-but INTJs strategize!!"

THEN THERE IS INTERNAL/EXTERNAL WHICH IS THE DUMBEST! socionists believes ti, te, se and si are external functions while all the rest internal. for example fe is VERRRRY internal as we all know, lol. si is external? go to wikisocion your bible, click information elements. see what’s the first word describing si? let me help you: homeostasis. which of course we know external huh?

"External" means explicit. The information is there. It can be directly observed, or can be qualitatively/quantitatively measured. Ti, if A implies B, and from B follows C, then A implies C. We can measure/detect A, B, and C. It's there, it's explicit. Te, so-and-so has increased yield by 20% over the last nine days. We can measure that. It's there, it's explicit. Se, so-and-so object is made out of this material in this shape so it's relatively strong. We can measure that. You can put it under a hydraulic press and see at what number it breaks and check how big the number is, but if you have strong Se you wouldn't need to do that and you could just use so-and-so object to beat the shit out of someone because you know it won't break.

Oh also, Wikisocion isn't my bible. My bible is random Reddit posts from 8 years ago, lol.

more quotes from main si page: Si is associated with the ability to “internalize” sensations and to experience them in full detail….. A strong ability to recognize internal physical states in themselves……… Individuals who possess Si as a base function are drawn to situations that satisfy their inner physical experience………. The avoidance of discomfort is one of the primary motivations of these types. (discomfort happens within hence internal. you focus on your inner world and you keep things nice and cozy with your endless subjective rules there).

You know, I think your problem is that you take the dichotomy names too literally. (Also you're mistaking external/internal for extroverted/introverted, which is a reasonable mistake, but that's not my point nor is it yours.) They're just labels for something we don't have any one precise word for. That's why there's so many different names.

Si is the most "internal" of the external elements because it concerns subjective relations about material things, but it's still there. If you're physically uncomfortable or comfortable, there is directly observable quantitative/qualitative phenomena that influences your (dis)comfort. Maybe you haven't been eating healthy. Maybe your clothing is itchy, your shoes too tight. Maybe you haven't gotten much sleep. Maybe you have a headache. Maybe you're too hot or too cold. Maybe you're covered in sweat and dirt and really want a shower. Those things are there, they can be directly observed. Si is called homeostasis because that's how it manifests in types with particularly noticeable Si. There is directly observable phenomena that influences your bodily state, so you manipulate it to benefit and stabilize your bodily state as much as you can to keep yourself comfortable - stabilizing your internal bodily state despite changes in the external environment. That's what is meant by Si is homeostasis.

AH OKAY THEN. you meaan si is sensing so that’s what makes it external? your bully smacks you and you feel inner discomfort thus its cause is external? i have big news for you: ne is external too then. i see a cloud, then i think aaah this cloud looks like a witch riding a broom.

No. Ne is internal because it's implicit. Ne concerns things that can't be directly observed. It can't be qualitatively or quantitatively measured, at least, not on its own. It's not concrete. Si concerns sensations so it IS concrete. Your bully smacking you is external. Their hand is hitting your face, which you can see directly, and you feel pain in response, which you can feel directly.

"This cloud looks like a witch riding a broom" isn't close to external. It's certainly not directly observable, and definitely can't be quantitatively or qualitatively measured. What makes a cloud look more like a witch riding a broom than say, a car with a party hat, or a particularly fat pig, or literally anything else? It's not directly percievable. Human cognition aside, a cloud isn't anything other than a cloud with the explicit properties of a cloud.

Besides, "This cloud looks like a witch riding a broom" isn't an example of pure Ne. It's Ne working in tandem with Si (relations between material things -> aesthetics -> "Hey this looks like _") or arguably pure Si, because what a cloud looks like doesn't have anything to do with the potential of what that cloud could become. Then again, as an Ne polr my understanding of Ne isn't great, so maybe I'm wrong on this point.

and then ti is external? ti is logical analysis function and fi is ethical analysis function they are both internal. analysises made out of many inner steps and calculations. i mean you can make this external / internal dichotomy and show your left ear with your right hand going through your legs after fingering yourself while you are at it but it would just MUCK the typology and wouldn’t help anyhing.

Vulgar. I already explained why Ti is external, but I guess I should compare it to Fi to explain further just how one is external and one is internal.

Ti describes the relationships between explicit, inanimate phenomena. ILEs and LIIs excel in fundemental sciences, where delineation and analysis of inanimate things is crucial. Think pure math - you need to be able to think strongly about abstract, logically consistent relationships. SLEs and LSIs, besides being good at the normal engineering stuff, excel in resource and organizational management. Think any sort of military or law enforcement, where you need to "engineer" a system that is secure, resistant to stress, and can be viably enforced. Ti is external in that concerns variables and the relations between variables that have directly observable properties, or that can be qualitatively or quantitatively measured. Basically, you can slap numbers on it, or you can see it.

Fi describes the relationships between implicit, animate phenomena, so it is internal. People, usually, but this also counts the attitudes people have towards certain ideas and objects. It's common for ethical types to mentally imbue inanimate objects with personalities, or animate traits (ever heard an INFx apologize to a piece of furniture? I have.)

IEEs and EIIs excel at understanding the core personality, motivations, and "morality" of a person. Think applied psychology, uncovering and addressing "deep" issues in an individual. SEEs and ESIs excel at, essentially, identifying people's "morality" and understanding their desires and quality of character. They're good at networking in unfavorable environments, facilitating exchange of resources between people who want them and establishing contacts (not without something in return) and protecting themselves from "evil" people who may wish to do them harm. (My personal understanding of Fi isn't great either, so the type examples might be incorrect or inapplicable, but the "implicitness" of Fi should be clear.)

The character of a person isn't directly observable. The relationships between people aren't directly observable. Their desires and attitudes aren't directly observable. Same thing with Fe. While it is visible, emotional expression is just expression of Fe. A person's fading and rising emotions aren't directly observable. The atmosphere or collective emotions of a crowd isn't directly observable. You can't see, touch, smell, or otherwise directly percieve these things. There's no feelings-o-meter that can measure the closeness of a relationship or the strength of an emotion and give you a number. That's why it's internal - or implicit, whichever term you prefer.

Maybe read about things before you go on a social media rant about them.

socionics is full of arbitrary dichotomies and then incorrect ones too.

for example central and peripheral. central is se and periphral is ne users. in model g, gulenko says alpha and delta quadras are peripheral. hmmm, i wonder why?

merry quadras are just fe users.

judicious / decisive dichotomy is actually the same thing with central and peripheral. what makes a type decisive? being thing-centric. being se direct. what makes a type judicious? preference to see things from different perspectives.

just how many times you will rename the same thing?

farsighted and carefree dichotomy makes no sense whatsoever. you can say this dichotomy is dipshittery just from the introductin text here:

Carefree / Farsighted is one of the 15 Reinin dichotomies. More research is needed to fully understand this dichotomy.

no matter how much research you put into this, it won’t make sense. entj is carefree with te and ni? esfp and estp is farsighted with ni inferior? intp (lii) and infp (eie) is farsighted (procrastination monsters) while istj and istp both carefree? pure bullshit.

negativist / positivist dichotomy is not that bad but whoever this “reinin” guy was, he didn’t have ti for sure. you can’t possibly find the underlying ti “law” why some types are negativists and others are positivists. enfp is a negativist but esfp is a positivist? okay… you think, so maybe ne makes a person negativist because after all these types share fi at the same slot? no. because entp is a positivist according to him and estp is a negativist.

strategic / tactical is the worst. most obviously, intj (ili) is a strategist, not a tactician. ni dominance (intuition of time) is a “dynamic” function with which you simulate the future and that IS strategizing, straight up. if ni dominant, ne ignoring, se inferior is not strategic then you know you are reading a dimwit.

THEN THERE IS INTERNAL/EXTERNAL WHICH IS THE DUMBEST!

socionists believes ti, te, se and si are external functions while all the rest internal. for example fe is VERRRRY internal as we all know, lol.

si is external? go to wikisocion your bible, click information elements. see what’s the first word describing si? let me help you: homeostasis. which of course we know external huh?

more quotes from main si page: Si is associated with the ability to “internalize” sensations and to experience them in full detail….. A strong ability to recognize internal physical states in themselves……… Individuals who possess Si as a base function are drawn to situations that satisfy their inner physical experience………. The avoidance of discomfort is one of the primary motivations of these types. (discomfort happens within hence internal. you focus on your inner world and you keep things nice and cozy with your endless subjective rules there).

AH OKAY THEN. you meaan si is sensing so that’s what makes it external? your bully smacks you and you feel inner discomfort thus its cause is external? i have big news for you: ne is external too then. i see a cloud, then i think aaah this cloud looks like a witch riding a broom.

and then ti is external? ti is logical analysis function and fi is ethical analysis function they are both internal. analysises made out of many inner steps and calculations. i mean you can make this external / internal dichotomy and show your left ear with your right hand going through your legs after fingering yourself while you are at it but it would just MUCK the typology and wouldn’t help anyhing.

visit my main blog @ demonwindu.wordpress.com

[darth-grips]

has anyone done this for star wars yet?

anyway. I'm right.

[aroaceleovaldez]

i would like to say my ideal PJO adaptation (if i was being physically forced against my will to have to pick a live action adaptation over an animated one for some reason) would be a combo like writing of the musical + casting of the show + visuals of the movies

BUT the show actually does have the playwright for the musical as one of the major writers for like three episodes and that did nothing for it. so...

[suddencolds]

The Worst Timing | [4/?]

happy friday, everyone! here is part 4 (5.3k words) as a little pre-valentines-day installment :) [part 1] is here! this chapter was a pain to edit; i think i deleted + rewrote about a fifth of it in the revision process

anyways, i promised this chapter would be the wedding, so... please enjoy the wedding

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written w these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

It’s a hectic morning.

Yves wakes up with the sinking realization that the medicine he took yesterday has worn off entirely. That is to say, he wakes up with the kind of unshakeable exhaustion he only feels when he’s coming down with something bad. His head is throbbing—sharp, cutting pain lances through his skull as soon as he finds it in himself to get out of bed.

All of that is inconsequential. He takes two pills from the cold/flu medicine blister pack with a generous few sips of water, brushes his teeth, washes his face in the sink with water cold enough to jolt him awake, and heads out.

He finds Aimee early, to ask her if she needs any help with anything. Then he makes himself available to the relatives that need him. There’s a last minute printing issue with the seating cards, so he goes through all of them again, finds the ones that are misprinted, talks extensively with the hotel’s front desk to explain what selection he needs to get reprinted and why, gets redirected towards the hotel’s business center, and finally gets them reprinted properly in one of the storerooms in the back. He lines the cards up and cuts them manually with a paper cutter he finds in one of the conference rooms on the first floor.

Then he takes a shuttle to the wedding venue to help set out all the seating cards according to a seating plan Genevieve texts him, but it’s windy enough outside that he has to find a way to weigh them all down. The venue has card holder stands, thankfully, but he doesn’t figure that out until he spends a good fifteen minutes asking around for them.

Then he waits twenty minutes in the cold for the shuttle back—the shuttles are thankfully in operation, but they’re running infrequently enough at this hour to be a slight inconvenience. By the time he gets on the shuttle, he’s shivering hard, even in his jacket, and his hands are almost numb from the cold.

The temperature certainly doesn’t help with the pressure in his sinuses, or with the sore throat that he’s had for a few days now. Perhaps it’s a blessing that the shuttle is near-empty save for him, because no one is there to question it when he ducks into his elbow with every loud, wrenching sneeze, or the coughing fit that almost inevitably follows.

When he gets back, he finds a sewing kit for Roy’s sister, Solaine—they don’t sell them at the convenience store downstairs, but he finds some in one of the tourist shops on the opposite end of the first floor of the hotel—for some last minute fixes to the way it’s hemmed. He delivers some safety pins from Victoire to one of his aunts, picks up breakfast pastries from the café across the street for his parents.

He takes a quick, hot shower, hot enough that the entire bathroom steams up because of it, and hopes that no one can hear the way every sneeze sounds so terribly, unnecessarily loud, even in the presence of his rapidly depleting voice. He rehearses his speech from memory and then rehearses it again, thinking through his notes on the pauses and the reflections. He irons his suit out, for good measure.

If he stops and lingers too long, it becomes quickly evident just how exhausted he is, just how unwell he feels when there’s nothing strictly keeping him on his feet. So instead, he makes himself useful where he can, busies himself with whatever he finds, if only because it’s the best distraction he can think of—if only because it’s the one distraction he has the luxury to take.

—

Lunch is a quick affair—he’s not especially hungry, and there will be more than enough food at the reception, so he grabs two pastries from downstairs, a coffee with two shots of espresso, and heads back up. Sitting down and eating them in the hotel room is somehow worse than running errands—like this, he can’t chalk his exhaustion up to his hectic morning, can’t attribute the heavy, shivery feeling that’s been following him all day the cold weather outside. 

Three more hours until the wedding. Anticipation always feels the worst, like this, when it’s nearly inseparable from worry—just a tangle of emotions in his chest.

He exhales.

Vincent is off—somewhere. Getting lunch, maybe, or getting ready for the wedding somewhere else. Yves has exchanged maybe all of twenty words with him this morning—do you know if our room has a sewing kit? Or, I’m going to stop by the café downstairs. Do you want me to get you anything?

Truthfully, Yves isn’t feeling much better today. His nose is running a little less now, thanks to the cold medicine, but the headache that he’s had all morning hasn’t gotten any less persistent. Even with his suit jacket on, he still can’t quite manage to get warm. He’s sneezing a little less, but each sneeze catches him off guard, harsh and sudden and embarrassingly loud.

But Vincent—who is, on average, unusually perceptive—hasn’t said anything about any of it. Yves tries not to think too hard about it. The less Vincent is worried about him, the better. Maybe he’s just preoccupied with other things.

He finishes his pastries at the small coffee table in the living room, downs half of his coffee, and then leans back in his chair and shuts his eyes.

His head hurts. He feels dizzy, even though he’s sitting perfectly still—as if the ground beneath him isn’t quite as steady as it should be—a strange feeling of vertigo. Surely if he sits here for just awhile longer, that feeling will go away.

He doesn’t fall asleep, exactly, but it’s a close thing. The discomfort doesn’t let up, either—no amount of massaging his temples seems to make the headache any better, and no amount of shuteye seems to do anything to lessen the exhaustion he feels. Maybe if he takes a nap he’ll wake up feeling passably fine. But he thinks it’s just as likely that he’ll get woken up early—by a phone call, or a text, or a knock on the door—to be told that he’s needed somewhere, and that alone is enough of a deterrent to keep him from properly falling asleep.

From somewhere at the edge of consciousness, he hears footsteps out in the hallway.

Someone’s here, then. He should let them in. But before he can bring himself to stand up and head over to the door, he hears the sound of the room card being inserted into its slot, hears the click of the door as it unlocks.

Someone—Vincent—shuts the door quietly behind him. When he spots Yves, he looks a little surprised.

“I didn’t think I’d find you here,” he says.

Yves blinks. His face feels unusually hot. “I got lunch,” he says, clearing his throat. “Well, I fidished it, but if I’d known you’d be getting back, I would’ve gotten somethidg for you.”

“I’m surprised you made it back,” Vincent says, leaving his shoes in a neat line at the door. “Are you done putting out all the fires now?” Yves laughs, though it turns into a cough. “For the foreseeable future, yes. Sorry i— hhH!” He twists over his shoulder, away from Vincent, to cover the sneeze in a manner that does not come at the expense of his suit jacket. “hHh-! iiDDzschh-IEW! snf-! Sorry I’ve barely been around this mornidg.”

Vincent is his own person—Yves has no doubt that he’s entirely self-sufficient when it comes to travel—but still, Yves is the only person Vincent really knows here. He’s not sure he can claim he’d be good company in his current state, but he feels like maybe he ought to be around more often—to translate, or to serve as the conversational buffer, or something else.

“It’s no problem,” Vincent says, frowning. “You were busy.”

“Still. If we were actually datidg, I think this would make me a slightly terrible boyfriend.”

“If we were actually dating, I would understand that you have important things in your life to attend to,” Vincent says.

Yves laughs. “Like cutting sixty sheets of paper into even rectangles?”

“Is that what you were out doing all morning?”

“Among other things.”

“Then yes,” Vincent says. He stops just short of the coffee table where Yves is sitting. “Are you finally off of paper-cutting duty?”

“God, I hope so. Weddings are always so hectic, even if you’re only peripherally idvolved. It’s like everyone’s worried about things going wrong beforehand, but then when you finally get to them, they always go fine.”

“Have you been to a lot of weddings in your life?”

Yves considers this. “Cobpared to the average person? Probably.”

“Then you should listen to your own advice,” Vincent tells him. 

“What?”

“It’s going to be fine.”

Yves blinks. If Vincent can tell that he is nervous after a three minute conversation with him, then Yves must really not be doing a good job at hiding it.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” he says. He really is tired. Maybe another cup of coffee, or two, will help—he can hardly think of anything more mortifying than nodding off halfway through the vows. “I don’t think I’ll forgive mbyself if it doesn’t.”

—

It’s a near-perfect wedding.

The weather is as temperate as it gets at this time of year. It’s sunny out, and brisk enough that no one feels stuffy in their suit jackets and their summer dresses.

The wedding venue is like something out of a storybook—the white stone paths, arcing around a circular fountain, the water a clear, searing blue; the rows and rows of flowers that crowd around it. Flowers—roses, peonies, tulips, gardenias—line the walkways, strung up over arches in crisscrossing rows of sprawling green leaves.

When Aimee and Genevieve walk down the aisle, Leon grins; Victoire turns away to wipe at her eyes. When they say their vows, Yves feels a tightness in his chest, a fierce sort of pride. He knew, of course, that this moment would make him emotional.

But nothing compares to seeing them here, right here, smiling. Aimee’s hair is half up, half down, held in place with a half moon clip that winks white under the sunshine. Genevieve is wearing a long white dress—her hair is braided into a crown, threaded with flowers, a translucent lace veil settling over her shoulders. The afternoon sunlight trickles over them, gleaming. And Yves—

Yves has always believed in love.

Perhaps it’s overly idealistic—he’s certainly been told as much before—but he believes in it still. He believed in it even before he started dating Erika, and he believed in it after they broke up, too. It’s not so much the idea that people can be soulmates, more the idea that people can spend thirty or fifty or seventy years together and not tire of each other, the idea that the little mundanities of life might be made special in the presence of someone whose existence sublimates them endlessly into interest. The idea that two people who may not ever fully understand each other might try, ceaselessly, to get close. 

He remembers: hearing about Genevieve, over text and over call; at first peripherally, but then frequently. He regrets, sometimes, that he wasn’t there more for the both of them, that he could only help from an ocean away with celebrations and holidays and special events, that he still doesn’t know Genevieve as well as he’d like to.

But a part of him thinks, now, that maybe it was a privilege, too, watching from afar. Hearing about the dates secondhand, from Aimee, all of it filtered through her own excitement—hearing Aimee talk about everything that left an impression on her. It would have been different, of course, if he had really been there. But in a way, it is a little fitting that his first impression of Genevieve—his first mental portrait of her—was by someone who was already already half in love with her.

And he remembers: Aimee, unusually quiet one night over Facetime, sitting cross legged in the living room of their new apartment. The world, dark outside through the living room windows, even though for him it was only mid afternoon. The way she’d smiled, wistful, staring off into the distance at some point he couldn’t see. I think I might marry her, she had said.

She had said it like she was certain. He finds himself going back to that moment, to her certainty. He’s always wondered—how had she known? How had she been so sure of it, even then? 

But the way Genevieve takes Aimee’s hands, during the vow—the way her hands tremble slightly with it, the particular carefulness with which she handles the ring—all of it makes him think that he’s been right to believe in this, in them, in love. After all, what more convincing proof is there than this?

—

All in all, it is nearly perfect.

Nearly, save for how unwell he feels, how self conscious he is about not making it expressly known. Yves shivers through the entire ceremony, occasionally lifting the collar of his suit jacket to muffle a harsh, wrenching sneeze into the fabric. He’ll get it dry cleaned later. Beside him, Vincent looks to him, his head tilted in question—and, after Yves smiles apologetically at him—says nothing.

He makes it through, as a combination of everything—the adrenaline, the cold medicine, the four espressos he’d had this morning and the energy drink he’d downed right before the ceremony to keep himself awake. 

He doesn’t have a thermometer, doesn’t know what kind of temperature he’s running, but he has a hunch that it’s higher than it should be. It’s freezing outside—cold enough that he can’t keep himself from shivering, even when he tries—but no one else seems to be as cold as he is. He can only hope, now, that no one else notices him ducking into his jacket, periodically, to catch another sneeze, or wiping his nose on the back of his hand to keep it from openly running.

The world looks fever-bright, fuzzy around some edges but unusually sharp around others. He’s awake, but in the sort of uncomfortable, all-consuming way where it feels like he’s too nervous to get any sleep at all.

He feels only half-present during the cocktail hour, while Aimee and Genevieve take their pictures. He thinks he should make himself useful somehow—help with positioning props for photos or with setting up the proper lighting or whatever else—or, at the very least, converse with the relatives that he hasn’t had much of a chance to catch up with yet.

Instead, he sits, half hunched over at one of the side tables, and tries not to shiver too visibly. His head hurts with the sort of sharp, incessant pain that makes it near-impossible to focus on anything else. 

“Are you okay?” Vincent asks him. 

Yves looks over to him. Vincent looks concerned—his eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth set into a frown—and Yves—

Yves considers it, for a moment: telling Vincent the truth. That it’s taking everything in him to appear even remotely presentable. That a part of him is nervous that he’ll crash before he gives his speech. That he might have overestimated his own ability to get through four more hours of this, outside in the cold.

“Of course,” he says instead, with the best smile he can muster, because what else is there to say?

He doesn’t end up having any drinks, even though he’s usually a fan of cocktails. Leon offers him one, and when Yves shakes his head, shrugs and heads off to find someone else, which Yves thinks is probably the best. He’s a little too out of it to keep tabs on where all the others are—there are enough people that it’d be hard to spot everyone in the first place, but like this, it feels impossible.

And Vincent is… surprisingly, absent, for much of it. Yves considers texting him a couple times, just to see where he might be, but then decides against it. If Vincent has found something fun to do, then Yves definitely isn’t going to keep him from doing it.

Except, a small part of him says, he’d explicitly told Vincent not to worry about him. It doesn’t have to be your problem, he’d said, and Vincent had stared back at him, blankly, except was his expression really blank, then? Hadn’t he seemed a little hurt? After all of this is over, Yves really ought to apologize to him for all of the trouble—for making this whole wedding a lot more stressful than it should’ve been.

Vincent had known, after all, that he was nervous just this morning, even though Yves hadn’t wanted for it to show. And perhaps Vincent has always been perceptive, but Yves likes to think he isn’t always so obvious. Vincent is here to enjoy his vacation in France, first and foremost. Yves doesn’t want anything—not the fever he feels brewing, not the nervousness he feels regarding the wedding—to get in the way of that.

But right now, Vincent is nowhere to be found, so he tables the apology for later. For now, he just has to get through the entirety of the wedding. He spends a good part of the hour in the same seat, blowing his nose into cocktail napkins, wishing he had packed something warmer that would fit the dress code.

He makes polite conversation with whoever stops by, and tries—and fails—to ignore the fact that it feels like his head is going to split. Maybe he should’ve picked up some aspirin at the convenience store, too, though it’s not like he has the time to go back and get it now. And, anyways, as painful as it is, it’s really just a headache. How bad could it be?

—

At six, he finds his seat for dinner. A couple minutes later, Vincent takes a seat next to him. Yves turns to speak to him, only, he has to turn away to muffle a throat-scraping fit of coughs into his elbow.

The coughing fit lasts longer than he anticipates. When he looks up at last, Vincent is already in conversation with the person next to him, who Yves recognizes to be one of Genevieve’s friends—perhaps one of the ones he ate dinner with the night before, though Yves can’t be sure. Yves hunts down another cocktail napkin to blow his nose into—it’s starting to run worse now that the sun is starting to set.

When it comes time to give his toast, he’s afraid, for a moment, that he might forget what to say. That he might trip up mid-speech, despite all of the practice. That his current affliction might make itself clearly, embarrassingly apparent right when everyone’s attention is focused on him.

But the speech goes well. He gives his speech in French. His voice is noticeably off, but he hasn’t lost it entirely, and if he has to resort to clearing his throat as quietly as he can in between sentences, it’s a small sacrifice. Aimee giggles at the anecdote he tells about her in grad school, texting him about meeting Genevieve for the first time at a networking event. He throws in a couple inside jokes—references to things he’s heard his extended family laugh about during their yearly summer reunions, things that he can tie back into the wedding that he hopes might land well with this audience—and then he tells everyone about a surprise party he worked with Genevieve to plan, last summer, for Aimee’s birthday: how she’d stayed up late to make sure everything was carefully accounted for. How he’d known, then, from how seriously she was taking it, by how well she seemed to know Aimee already, that she would be the one. 

The jokes seem to land, for the way everyone—buoyed from the adrenaline of the wedding and in part thanks to the cocktails, he’s sure—laughs, and by the end, Genevieve is beaming, and Aimee breaks tradition to run up to him and give him a tight hug. After that, he asks everyone to raise their glasses in a toast—“To Aimee and Genevieve,” he says, “what a joy it is to see the team you’ve been rooting for win,” and the room erupts into clamor—into applause and cheer and the resounding clinking of glasses.

Then someone he recognizes as one of Genevieve’s closest friends stands to give her toast, and for the first time today, Yves lets himself relax in his seat. Only, it isn’t really relaxing—after all of the caffeine, he feels simultaneously exhausted and strangely, artificially alert, in a way that feels a little wrong.

The rest of the wedding should be smooth sailing, he thinks. The ceremony is over. His speech was fine. He just needs to stay through dinner and the cake cutting, and then he can ride the shuttle back with everyone else, and then—

—And then he’ll be back at his hotel room, where he can apologize to Vincent for perhaps being the very reason why this vacation hasn’t been as stress-free as it should’ve been, considering that it’s likely one of the few reprieves he and Vincent are supposed to get until busy season winds down.

He blinks, rubs a hand over his face, sniffling. He really does feel dizzy.

It’s usually like this. Yves thinks he should probably be wiser by now. If there’s anything he’s learned from past experiences—attending that end-of-semester crew meeting with the flu, or getting through the second half of finals week his senior year of university with a high fever—it’s that half a week of ignoring all of his symptoms is going to catch up to him eventually. 

Usually he’s better at defining what constitutes eventually.

He feels a familiar prickle in his nose—the kind that he knows once he gives in to will plague him for the rest of the hour. The cold medicine must be wearing off. Better to do this elsewhere—anywhere instead of here, on the courtyard, where everyone is eating dinner.

“I’ll be right back,” he says to Vincent. Then, without waiting for a response, he rises from his seat and heads off in the direction of the nearest restroom. There’s one in the main building, past the catering stations, the ballroom, the indoor bar.

“Hey, Yves,” someone—his sister—says, when he’s halfway to the building.

He stops walking. “What’s up?”

“You nailed that speech,” she says.

“In no small part thadks to you,” Yves says, forcing himself to turn and face her with a smile. “I’m glad we cut it down. And by we I mean, mostly you.”

“You were a hit,” Victoire says. “And it was funny. I liked the anecdotes you picked. I don’t think people would’ve minded if it were longer.” 

“Three mbidutes was the perfect length. Ady longer and people would’ve started losidg idterest— hHh-!” Yves thinks, a little frustratedly, that he always has the most inconvenient timing. “Excuse mbe, I— HHehh!” He lifts his arm to his face, twisting away. “hHhEH’iiDZSSchh’iiEW!”

When he turns back around to face her, Victoire is staring at him with the sort of calculating look that Yves is sure is not a good thing.

“You’re still sick?” she asks.

He blinks at her. “A little,” he says. “I’ll get some sleep todight.” 

She nods. “Does Vincent know?”

The question startles him into laughing, which he immediately regrets, for the way it makes him cough. “That I’mb sick?” he asks. “Yeah, I’d assume so. We share a room.”

“Assume? So you haven’t talked to him about it?”

“Whether or ndot I have a cold is not the mbost enthralling conversation topic,” Yves says.

“But you’re dating,” she says, as if that explains everything.

It explains nothing. “Yes, glad you ndoticed.”

“I just mean that — I mean, he got breakfast with us the other day, which you weren’t there for, and then we had the rehearsal dinner, which he wasn’t invited to. And during the cocktail hour, you were sitting alone.”

“I’mb not sure where you’re goidg with this,” Yves says, if only because he doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now. “But if you’re wondering whether—” He veers away again, pressing his arm to his face. “hh… Hehh-! hhHH’GKTT-SHHiiew!Ugh, sorry… Hh… HEHh’IIDZZSCHh-yyEEew! snf-! If you’re wondering whether we got into a fight, or sobething, then the answer is no.”

“It’s not that.” Victoire hesitates, for a moment, as if she’s still thinking about what to say. She probably is. She’s always been deliberate with her words. “It kind of seems like—well, like you’re doing that thing you always do.”

“What thidg I always do?” 

“You know.” She looks at him, her expression carefully, deceptively neutral. “Avoiding the people who care about you when something’s wrong.”

“I have ndo idea what you’re talking about.” Yves glances wistfully over to the bathroom. “I do really ndeed to pee, you know.”

He half expects her to press, but she just sighs. “Okay,” she says. “Don’t let me keep you.”

It’s a convenient out, and he takes it. The walk over is thankfully not too long—the bathroom turns out to be located just a couple hallways down from the entrance, but it’s hidden enough that it’s a little hard to find. For now, that’s a good thing.

He imagines the wedding party might move inside shortly after dinner, but as it stands, the building is mercifully empty. The restroom on the first floor is nicer than expected—warm lighting, floor to ceiling mirrors, polished white sinks on a black granite countertop. He braces himself against the countertop, suppressing another shiver. 

His nose is running slightly. He reaches over and grabs a couple paper towels from the dispenser, just to be safe.

It’s not a moment too early. It’s only moments after that he’s pitching forwards into the paper towels with a harsh—

 “HhH’iiDZSSCHh-IIEW!” 

The sound echoes off the tiled walls. Yves finds himself coughing, afterwards. The medicine must really be wearing off, then, for the way his nose is starting to run incessantly—for the way the discomfort prickles at his skin, suggesting a fever. It’s a good thing there’s no one here to see him like this.

“hHEHh’iIZssCHH-iiEW! snf-! hHEh… HDDt’TSSCHH-iEEW!” The sneezes are harsher than usual, too, and forceful enough to snap him forward at the waist. He stays hunched over for a moment, steadying himself with the side of the countertop, and tries, somewhat unsuccessfully, to catch his breath. 

The bathroom feels frigidly cold. He shivers, reaches up with trembling hands to try to button up his suit. His nose is starting to tickle again. It feels like he might be here forever, like one wrong breath might be enough to—

“hhH…. hHEH…. hhHEH’DJJJSHH’iiEEW!” The paper towels in his hand must be drenched now, but before he can get a chance to replace them, his breath catches again. “hhEH’GKTT-SHhhEw!” It’s immediately clear, from the subsequent twinge in his nose, that he’s not done. For a moment, he wonders if the sneezes will ever let up—if he’ll be stuck in the bathroom all evening, trying to keep his illness under wraps.

Before he can entertain the thought properly, he finds himself jerking forward again, his eyes snapping shut—

“Hehh… hEHh’IIZSCHH-YYEEW! hHihhH’-iiTsSHHH-YYEW!”

He blows his nose, as gently as he can, but the paper towel is rougher against his skin. When he looks up afterwards, blinking tears out of his vision, his nose looks noticeably red. 

It takes all the resolve in him to not just slump against the wall.

His next breath comes in wrong, and he finds himself coughing—harsh, grating coughs which seem to go on and on, leaving him feeling distinctly lightheaded.

He can’t stay here. He needs to make it back to dinner, where the others are waiting for him. He has to get back before Vincent starts wondering where he’s gone.

Yves squeezes his eyes shut. If he’s being honest with himself, he feels awful. Nothing he does seems to do anything to assuage the chill that’s settled persistently over him, the uncomfortable, shivery feeling that makes him want to curl up somewhere warm, sleep the next day and a half away.

Would it be so bad for him to stay here for just a little longer? To send a text to Vincent to let him know he’ll be back in twenty? It’s not the most comfortable of places, but it would be the easiest to explain if someone ends up finding him here. Anywhere else might suggest that he has a big enough problem to deliberately hide away instead of properly enjoying the festivities, like he should be doing, which is not the impression he wants to give off at all.

He tries to think of a convincing enough excuse, but nothing he can think of takes precedence over a wedding dinner, of all things. It should be fine if he goes back now, but any longer might be pushing things.

And, anyways, he feels guilty for even considering it. The others are waiting for him. He has to show up, and at the very least, be courteous where he has to, make pleasant conversation when he can. He has to make sure Aimee and Genevieve are having fun, and that Leon and Victoire are doing fine, and that nothing needs to get done logistically, and that Vincent is not there alone, surrounded by strangers speaking a language he’s just started to learn.

His head is pounding. He tosses the paper towels into the bin, leans his weight against the countertop, squeezes his eyes shut. The exhaustion from the past few days of on-and-off sleep must be catching up with him. His head is pounding.

He can do this. More aptly put, it’s not a question of whether he can. He has to do this.

He splashes his face with cold water, washes his hands in the sink, dries his face with another generous handful of paper towels, and heads towards the door. He feels almost too tired to stand, but that’s only a temporary concern. It won’t be a problem once he gets back to his seat.

Everyone is waiting for him, he tells himself. Soon, they might be asking where he’s gone. He needs to show them that he’s there—present and attentive and engaged, just like he promised everyone he’d be. No one expects any less of him, after all.

It’s with that in mind that he presses forward. He makes it down a couple hallways before he finds himself having to lean against the wall to catch his balance, shutting his eyes against the sudden wave of disorientation. He inhales, slowly. Exhales.

Fuck. Perhaps he’s dizzier than he’d expected.

“Yves?” He freezes. Vincent is not supposed to be here. Vincent can’t see him right now, not in this state. He forces himself to smile. “What’s up?”

“You disappeared,” Vincent says. “I wanted to make sure…”

His voice shutters, sounding distant and close by all at once. “...that everything was okay.”

“It is,” Yves says. “I was just about to head back.” “We can head back together,” Vincent says. It’s not that long of a walk—just a couple minutes, at most, to the exit Vincent presumably came in from, and then back down the stone path that leads to the courtyard.

“You didn’t have to come find me. I’m really fine.” Yves shifts his weight off from the wall. Takes a couple steps halting towards the exit, which is a mistake.

It all registers simultaneously: the darkness encroaching upon the edges of his vision, the surge of panic in his chest. The world, suddenly angled wrongly, tilts towards him. He thinks he is definitely going to owe Vincent an apology.

[ Part 5 ]

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Just want to say: a, I admire very much that you've figured out a healthy way to work on your fics that allows you to have fun with it. And also b, am very excited to hear that you are getting there with pez! It has fully given me brain rot ever since I read it last year, there is just such a lack of content for the highly specific trope of using time travel as a device to explore extremely unhealthy levels of self loathing.

I just adore everything you're doing in it. Neither midoriya is anywhere approaching okay for any portion of the fic and I love rereading and mining into all the subtle characterization pointing to that. It's a bit like nhtycth in that some really goofy funny stuff is often hiding some really fucking worrying things, but the fact that characters DO do that stuff—that todoroki uses his teaspoon's worth of extremely stunted social skills to bludgeon his friend's door open and help him, that a rpf shipping war is an actual source of drama despite how goofy the sentiment seems on the surface, that about half of what jon says is deeply worrying and the other half is extremely funny and there's a lot of overlap between the two—really lifts the tension and brightens the universe. It's sort of similar to what you did with gerry, in that endless misery isn't nearly as painful as the ups and downs of a life that, when you step back and zoom out, has something deeply and horribly wrong with it.

(jon sort of reminds me of spider-man in that he uses human to deal with trauma and stress, except I don't think he at any point realizes how fucking funny he is. He's just there, in a home depot, gnashing his teeth because he's got so many bodies to dispose of and this cashier sure is taking her time.)

I really, really, really have had trouble finding fics that take everything midoriya has dealt with to task. It's a hell of a thing to live 14 years as a disabled minority, have it heavily shape your existence, and then one day you wake up and you realize you're...not that, or at least, nobody will ever acknowledge you as that again. You've lost all claim to it. Those experiences that shaped who you are? Dust in the wind. 14 years of pain and life might as well be buried in the ground for all the good they do you. Nobody's going to cut you any slack or quarter, you've gotta simply work harder, be better. And now when you do that you get the results you wanted, so that's fine, then. That's good. There was something wrong with the you before, and there's something right with the you now, and if the transition is a little rough, well that doesn't matter, you're the same as everyone else now, so it's your own job to fill in whatever gaps you need to.

I really can't get over how mentally fucked it must be for midoriya to run into quirkless people, run across quirkless issues, and be silently caught between, incapable of speaking his mind and too scared to do so anyway around those he can trust.

Also I should mention, I'm just very excited for bakugou to get back from the gym. He's been there like a year I hope he's getting a good workout in.

Me realizing that it’s been a year since pez dispenser debris:

I feel like there’s just this very specific type of grief that Izuku has to grapple with in the span of pez dispenser debris that I’m just obsessed with. He’s sort of silently mourning who he could have been, when 1) he has to present like there’s nothing lost to maintain his secret and 2) the entire world is constantly inundating him with the message that there was nothing lost.

Like. I don’t want to get too deep into it because it risks spoiling things and I do have major plans to continue it (I’ve loved this story for so many years before I ever even hit publish), but the emotion that Izuku’s feeling right now is so much more complex than “I hate who I used to be and want him to stop existing” or “I just want to keep my secrets.” And I think the way he interacts with Mirio is the biggest evidence of that.

Izuku’s placed himself at the very center of the Quirklessness debate with his support of Mirio. He fights for Quirkless heroes, very publicly, to the point where he’s not even graduated yet but considered to be one of the most prominent voices on the matter. If you took a poll of Quirkless people as to which hero would be most supportive of them pursing their own career in heroics, Izuku would be right at the top of the list. When it comes to Quirklessness itself, he’s nothing but supportive.

But he didn’t tell Mirio the truth of his own Quirklessness.

Out of everyone, Mirio’s the one everyone expects to know, despite him being a relatively newer relationship compared to someone like Iida or Uraraka or Todoroki. And I tried to imply that he’s sort of the one who knows the most about Izuku out of everyone save All Might.

Like, we’ll get into how much exactly Mirio knows soon, so I won’t divulge what, if anything, Izuku has told him. But we know that Mirio knows, weirdly enough, that Izuku is deeply fucking haunted. He knows that boy has many violent ghosts in his bones. He finds it hilarious and will tell their realtor about it. Izuku told him about the discontent spirits who died in a violent passion and live on inside of him before he told him about his Quirklessness.

And I just feel like one of those things is a little bit easier to discuss than the other.

Izuku has decided to keep his own Quirklessness quiet in a way that surpasses secrecy about One for All. If it was just about OfA, he could tell people he didn’t get his quirk until the entrance exam, and it wouldn’t even be a lie. He’s purposefully obscuring his own past as Quirkless even as he takes a forefront of the Quirkless hero debate with his open support of Mirio.

And the fact that he’s at the forefront of this debate in and of itself requires a difficult dichotomy. He is the world’s most vocal proponent for the first Quirkless hero. He is a known figure in the Quirkless community now.

He isn’t considered one of them anymore. He’s an outsider coming in.

It must be such a strange, odd sort of grief to come to the people you were home amongst for most of your life and be greeted as a stranger. To return home, and to be welcomed in for the first time, and to not even be able to tell people that you’ve lived here all your life and don’t need a tour.

It’s a sort of death of self, I think. And I think Izuku never expected to have to grapple with his own ghost.

[m0thicplagu3z]

guys i don’t make the rules…..nico would listen to sleep token sorry im not the boss. actually will and nico are so sleep token coded. listen to any sleep token song.

distraction, higher, mine, dark signs, rain, aqua regia, the night does not belong to god, euclid, telomeres! take me back to eden!! LEVITATE! BLOOD SPORT!! some maybe based solely on vibes/sound but like come on.

i could give you a tiered list. if we were having an in person conversation i’d be talking at the speed of light right now. please god people start writing more solangelo lyric fics to sleep token songs

[blackbatcass]

I firmly believe babs and dick are the only two people on earth allowed to call cass ‘cassie’. No I don’t care if canon contradicts this.

[tastycitrus]

the flora discuss conductors

[strwbrryvagabond]

wanted to get on here and yap about American Girl for some reason today

I'm far from a brand loyalist, and honestly, I was shocked I didn't grow up with the off-brand dolls you could get at Walmart or Target since I grew up poor until recently when my mom informed me that I would save money up for months and months at a time so that I could buy the dolls, and my parents only even actually purchased one for my birthday once we started to do a bit better financially, and after they saw how much I loved and took care of the dolls

I bought accessories for them myself as well, both from the actual company and from other brands like Target and Walmart ones, and even paid my mom to order me a bunk bed for them off of Etsy or something because I was so distraught that they didn't all have their own beds.

Anyways, I know brands are bad and stuff, and American Girl is not without faults and controversies, but tbh those dolls really shaped me as a kid, like I intentionally bought Rebecca Rubin as my first doll when I was a kid after seeing her in a catalog that we got sent by mistake because she was Jewish and looked like me. I had never seen a doll or character, or pretty much anything at that age who was Jewish like me and looked like me, and she wanted to be an actress, and at the time, I also wanted to act

I took that doll very literally everywhere, half the pictures of me from that age, she's tucked under my arm in a different outfit, her hair as well taken care of as I could manage for being so little. I accidentally messed up one of her curls while trying to fix her hair, and I cried for like a solid half an hour until my mom helped me fix it. even after I got other dolls, all of which I still loved and took care of religiously, Rebecca was the one who came everywhere with me

I'd already been a big reader before that, which is a whole other post, but I devoured those books, and I totally blame them for my current love of learning history and historical fiction. and the different dolls were all depicted as activists and feminists, and do not get me wrong here (I say on the 'taking things out of context' website) they were far from perfect with their diversity and activism, like oh jeez they did some very questionable things sometimes, but for the early 2000s and 2010s? revolutionary

the store closest to me closed a little before my birthday last year. I didn't know that it was even happening, and honestly probably still wouldn't have known if I hadn't been shopping with my friends at that mall like two weeks before my birthday since that was the only day we could all make work. Despite not having touched my dolls in a while, everything was super on sale, and I had been planning on taking Rebecca to college with me, so I figured I might buy her an outfit or something.

while the store was pretty ransacked, I was shocked and, no joke, teary-eyed over how many things they had for different cultures, different religions, and how many little girls I saw in there with big starry eyes looking at a doll that looked like them

I ended up buying a Channukkah outfit, and one of the friends I was with convinced me to, against my nature, let them buy a Lunar New Year outfit for me as well, which almost made me cry again. What really did it was seeing one of the previous Girls of the Year, Corrine Tan. Oh my gosh if they had had her when I was a little girl, she would've gone right beside Rebecca with how obsessed I was with her. I don't think I've mentioned it here before, but as a kid, I LOVED Mulan, and when I went to Disney World and the dress up boutique they had, I was DEVASTATED that they didn't have a Mulan costume. I latched onto her so hard for a very similar reason that I latched onto Rebecca so hard; because even though she wasn't the same ethnicity as me, Mulan was Asian, and so am I. I wore out I think three burned copies of that movie I watched it so often

I'm just weirdly sadder than I expected that American Girl is closing so many stores and not making as many sales I guess. I'm really fighting being a brand loyalist right now, because there are about a million other brands that make super similar dolls that I'm sure little kids all over loved, it's just always stuck with me that they at least seem to care about representation in the stories they make for these dolls

I mean, it clearly impacted me growing up, and I think it was for the better. I remember reading Addy's book being one of the first times I was exposed to the idea of children being slaves because they obviously didn't talk about that in an elementary school in the 2010s. I really just wanted to get all of my thoughts out, I've been thinking about it a lot recently since I took Rebecca to college, and I've now been hearing stories from girls who see her in my room about what doll or what toy shaped them as a child. Very excited to dress her up for Channukkah when it comes around, and tbh I've been looking for more outfits for her online. I just want her to be something I take with me throughout my life I guess. I mean, I took her everywhere when I was little, so it kinda feels wrong not to take her with me on this super big part of my life.

yeah anyways uh, if you had one of these dolls go... idk kiss em on the forehead or something. remind the toys that shaped you that you love them for what they did for you and all that. yap session over