#So maybe instead of rules they should be guidelines? And it’s okay if certain people deviate from them?? It’s not a big deal????

[idontmindifuforgetme]

My brain also very much deals in analogies, so I used to make this make sense by telling myself stuff like “if it’s an absolute truth that smoking is bad for everyone, absolute statements can also be applied about human behavior” but like…. It just doesn’t translate that well when it comes to human behavior. I think at most a concession can be made for like. Ubiquitous survival instincts. But pop psychology takes this too far to the point where all human behavior can be generalized into these rigid rules that truly don’t take into account the variegated human experience

Perhaps the most frustrating but also the most irrevocably liberating realization I came to this year is that people are so different & that this relentless trend of advice that tries to generalize human behavior into absolute tenets really does not compute. “People like the chase” actually some do and some don’t “people like unavailability” some do and some don’t “if they don’t initiate first they’re not interested” actually people express interest differently. People are simply different. I need to enforce this in my brain every day bc it’s so lucrative to simplify relationships down to these unspoken rules but thinking it can ever be this simple is a mirage

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 29

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 5.5k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act four ➻ part four

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Silence is like an old friend: always present and there for you even when everyone and everything else left you. You find comfort in the quiet, and as such, you normally wouldn’t find yourself so bothered by the absence of sound. Yet here you are, standing a few feet from Jongho’s bed in a room that is all too cold and all too quiet. Truly, there isn’t much to say, but that doesn’t keep you from wanting to speak up and offer some sort of weak attempt to get him to stay. Before you can, however, San beats you to it. You aren’t sure whether to be grateful or not because the lingering goodbye just hovers on your tongue now.

“Are you truly going to do this, Jongho?”

The Berserker hesitates where he stands near the bed, hands clasped around a small bundle of clothes. For a moment, you think he’s going to ignore San’s question and continue to pack in silence. Then, he offers a shrug.

“Hongjoong didn’t stop me, did he?” You shake your head with a certain fervor to your movements.

“There’s no way he wants you to leave,” you counter. Perhaps it is merely an attempt to cling to that hope, but the Hongjoong you saw in his quarters was a version of him you’ve never seen before. Jongho shifts to look at you, eyes a bit melancholy as he drags his gaze over your face.

“Obviously information is far more important than I am.” He says the words with a bit of a laugh to his tone, though all three of you know that there’s no humor to be found in this situation. Your lips fold into a delicate frown.

“Why is this even an issue? Is there a reason why Hongjoong is so adamant about bringing Mingi to the arena? Why can’t he just stay on the ship while the rest of us go on the mission?” You shake your head a bit as you ask the questions and drop your gaze to the floor. There is no reasonable explanation as to why Hongjoong would behave this way in your mind, no matter how many excuses you try to give in his defense.

“Because Vladimir plays dirty,” San says through a sigh. “He knows that Mingi is on this crew, and he’s been after Mingi for years. Offered countless deals and bargains for Mingi’s head, trying to get Hongjoong to give him up. Hongjoong has always turned down the offers without a second thought, but that doesn’t keep Vladimir from trying time and time again. He wants Mingi. And he is a man who is used to getting what he wants.”

“Do you think that what he’s after?” You inquire, blinking over to where San stands with arms folded neatly over his chest.

“If he has agreed to meet Hongjoong, then yeah. That means he, in the very least, has eyes on the ship. So if he sees every member of the crew leave the ship except for Mingi, his men will ambush and take Mingi by any means necessary. Even if someone stays behind with Mingi, the risk is still there. Thus… Hongjoong would rather risk Mingi having an episode in the arena or take the easy way out and wipe his brain.”

“But why?” It still doesn’t make sense to you, but at this rate, it’s seeming less and less likely that it will ever make sense. “That seems too pricy a cost for such a small risk, along with the assumption that Mingi can’t protect himself.”

“It isn’t about cost,” Jongho cuts in. “Nor is it a failure to believe in Mingi’s capabilities. It’s… deeper than that. Hongjoong always worries about something happening to Mingi when he isn’t there. He thinks it’s risky enough to send Mingi with San and me, but he can’t bring him to Vladimir. That would be the worst of all shitty ass ideas. Do I see the logic in bringing Mingi to the arena? Of course, I do. Having him be off to the side and in one of the wings – that would make it easier to keep him out of Vladimir’s sights. It would help him blend in with the crowd, hide from whatever guards Vladimir will have, more space to run if the need arises. You can’t do that on a ship with only a few exits. Hongjoong is thinking, and he’s thinking hard, yes, but at the same time, he’s being a complete dumbass.”

The steady thrum of silence follows Jongho’s explanation, and you can’t come up with anything to say in response. Neither can San, or so it seems, because he offers a nod but nothing other than that. Then, like a switch being flipped in his brain, he spins to face you with inquisitive eyes.

“You’re the only one here who has actually had the procedure done.” It isn’t spoken like a question, moreso a fact, but you find yourself responding as though it is one nonetheless.

“Yes? As far as I’m aware.”

“Well, that would also make you the only person who knows what it’s like to go through that even if the memories of it are hazy and foggy.” You press your lips tightly together, unable to look San in the eye any longer. The embarrassment of your earlier collapse and partial breakdown is still fresh, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you also are struggling to get past the harsh memory. “Would you willingly subject another person to that?”

Ah, morality. An equally funny and tricky thing to handle in any situation. Now, it seems even more delicate and fragile, something you have to weigh ever so carefully to keep from saying the wrong thing. What is wrong when it comes to criminals though? Are there different rules to play by, a separate set of guidelines that all should follow to decide what’s best, or does one leave it to fate instead? Let the universe decide how morality should be weighed on the scales of justice?

You’ve never been one to listen to the universe, even when it stands in your path and screams for you to listen.

“Only if they want it,” you start in a whispered tone. “Never against their will obviously but… but if someone were to ask for it and agree to it, then yes.”

“So if Mingi truly wants it, then you would be okay with the method?” San’s question stops you in your tracks. Perhaps you have said the wrong thing or made a mistake in saying what you did — you are well aware of what San’s response would be, so maybe that is why he is so frustrated with yours. San would have you say that it is impermissible under any and all circumstances, even with clearly defined guidelines and consent. His morals make you question your own even though you know where he is coming from. To him, it is all a matter of relations. Having a relationship with a solid foundation means that it is perfectly alright to think that way. Yet using San’s moral guidelines, that would mean that the closer you get to someone, the more you take away from them. Their choice, their thought process, how they decide things, even their own moral standards. Can you truly permit that in good conscience? For once, your answer seems clear.

“Yes,” you relent after a few breaths of hesitation. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Would you say the same if it were myself or Jongho? Or Seonghwa?” Again, you hesitate – this time longer than before, and you almost neglect to answer the question entirely. You muster up the courage at the last second, however, but you don’t think it’s the response San wants to hear still.

“Again, if it’s what you truly want, then why would it be fair for someone to stop you? Why take away that choice?”

“But Hongjoong is taking away Mingi’s choice now!” Jongho argues, stepping towards you with knitted brows. “He is abusing his power as Captain! He knows that Mingi would do absolutely anything that he told him to do. It’s not free will or a choice if someone only gives you one option.”

“And yet… it’s not all Hongjoong, is it?” San inquires through a delicate frown. “Yunho is the one who brought it up and made it an option in the first place.”

Jongho brings a hand to his hair, carding his fingers through the dark locks sitting atop his head. He drops his gaze to the floor too and refuses to look in San’s direction until he makes it back to where he was packing clothes.

“Yeah, I already ripped into him for that.”

“Do you know why he did it? It doesn’t make sense for Yunho of all people to bring it up. Out of everyone, he’s the one with the strongest moral compass, so why – no, how – how could he do something so immoral?”

“Morals are different for everyone.” Jongho huffs air through his nose and lets the sound fill the air without interruption for several moments. “What’s moral to one person could be wholly immoral to another. Look at how Mingi was raised, how he was taught that the way he thinks is right and that it’s the proper method of thought and morality. Others consider him to be an immoral monster with no concept of right and wrong, but in his own mind, that isn’t how it works. Yunho… Yunho genuinely believes that doing this is truly the only option. We’ve never seen eye to eye on Mingi’s condition, of course, but – or how to help, now that I think about it – but I know I can’t convince Yunho to change his mind. Hongjoong however? I can change his mind for certain.”

“What do y–” The door interrupts you, sliding open before you can complete the question, and you whip to face the source of the sound. San and Jongho move with you, eyes reaching the door before yours do. You almost expect to find Hongjoong standing there just based on the sigh that through Jongho’s lips, but you’re even more surprised to see that it is Seonghwa instead. He pauses midstride upon seeing you, no doubt expecting to find Jongho alone in the room. His mouth hangs slightly open as his eyes dart up to meet yours. The stare lingers too long, continuing to bore into you as he shifts his chin in Jongho’s direction.

“Lieutenant,” Jongho greets. His tone is cold and flat, almost like nothing is different about this situation. You know better than to believe that. Jongho’s next words only solidify that fact. “I suppose that’s the last time I’ll be calling you that.”

It’s like a knife in the chest yet somehow ten times worse. San’s expression visibly twists, and he turns away so that no one sees the extent of his pain.

“Don’t think so negatively, Jongho,” Seonghwa murmurs as he steps further into the room. “Hongjoong doesn’t want you to leave. Why would he ever want that?”

“Then why isn’t he here to tell me that himself?” Jongho snorts out a laugh following the harsh question. “Why is it that good Lieutenant Park always does the dirty work for him?”

“Come now, Jongho. Don’t get bitter now of all times.”

“Oh, fuck off! Let me be bitter! Mingi is the only fucking person on this ship who knows what it’s like to feel the way I feel and suffer the way I suffer. He’s the only person who I think can give me the redemption I need so desperately. He has always been my responsibility and mine alone. I know how to help him, I believe in him, and I put some damn faith in him getting better without any fucking procedures. I can be bitter all I want because Hongjoong is putting zero faith in Mingi.”

“I understand, Jongho.”

In the blink of an eye, Jongho has moved from the edge of the bed to the wall, the only thing between him and the metal being Seonghwa. His hand closes around Seonghwa’s throat while the other draws back as though he’s about to punch the lieutenant.

“You don’t understand shit!”

Seonghwa doesn’t dare to budge, but both you and San snap into action, rushing to grab Jongho and pull him off the other man. Before you have the chance to do anything, Seonghwa lifts his hand and makes a halting motion.

“You can hit me if it’ll make you feel better.”

Jongho’s fist wavers where it is, and he lowers it back down to his side after a moment without doing anything. His hand falls away from Seonghwa’s throat as well, letting the lieutenant breathe easily once more, and he steps away while heaving a deep sigh.

“You shouldn’t take everything for Hongjoong. If I’m gonna hit someone, it’ll be him.” Jongho waves a hand towards the door. “If all you came here to do was be a punching bag for Hongjoong, then you can go.”

“No, actually... that’s not why I came.” Seonghwa pushes himself off the wall, straightening the collar of his turtleneck as best he can. “I don’t want to use the serum, Jongho. I don’t want Mingi to go near the arena at all. Hongjoong and I -- we never came to an agreement about it after everyone left. He merely made the decision as the captain. I tried my best to change his mind, I truly did, but I couldn’t -- I-I don’t understand why I couldn’t.” Seonghwa’s gaze darts to the floor, looking over the patterns along the carpet before pulling back up to look Jongho in the eye. He stretches a hand out and clamps it over Jongho’s shoulder. The Berserker allows the touch, albeit begrudgingly. “I truly don’t want any harm to come to Mingi, but I can’t stop Hongjoong just by talking to him.”

Seonghwa glances past Jongho’s shoulder to stare San in the eye with such intensity to his gaze that you get a chill down your spine.

“The mission tomorrow cannot be successful under any circumstances.”

“Yes, you’re right.” San hums to himself for a moment, then looks off to the side. “The only way to stop Hongjoong from getting his way would be to fail to get the serum. What’s the plan then? We should destroy the serum if we find it, no?” San turns to you now, eyes expectant and waiting for some sort of input on your part, but you genuinely don’t know what he wants you to say.

Instead of saying anything, you shift your chin in the opposite direction and avoid his probing stare.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

“Nothing,” you mutter back quickly.

No matter which way you look at the situation, you can only see it as taking away Mingi’s choice. No one is asking him what he wants, and while you understand the reasoning behind that, you cannot grasp how this is the just thing to do. Whether you give him the serum or not, he won’t have a say in the matter. Where is the line drawn? When it comes to morality, when is it okay to take away someone’s consent and leave them with nothing? Surely when it comes to protecting them, but both these options... both can defend him. What then?

No one presses you for answers, and you’re immensely grateful for that because it allows you to ask your next question with relative ease.

“How are we going to pull this off with Yeosang on the mission? Wouldn’t he tell Hongjoong?”

“Even Yeosang will see reason,” San argues. A sigh passes through Seonghwa’s slightly parted lips.

“I would take Yeosang’s place on the mission, but given my resistance to the plan... that would be suspicious. Hongjoong knows me far too well and would see through it in an instant. He picked Yeosang and San because they follow orders best and do what’s asked of them. And he picked Y/N because she’s the one with the most military experience. Yeosang has experience but… he was a prince, not a soldier. His specialty was out in the field, whereas yours was in teams, working in units, not being at the front of the line. That’s why you’re being put on the team, for that experience.”

“Experience that’s absolutely useless,” you snort, folding your arms over your chest. “I don’t remember what the serum looked like. And no offense, but I sure as hell don’t want to try to remember what it looked like either.”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Seonghwa shakes his head, barely sparing you a second glance in favor of looking at San. “In order to get the serum, you’ll be breaking into a military base.”

“Have you gone fucking mad?” San seethes, hands balling into tight fists at his sides. Seonghwa levels him with ease and sends such a heated glare his way that Jongho stands up a bit straighter.

“If you think even for a second that I did not try my damndest to get Hongjoong to change the plan, you would be horribly wrong,” Seonghwa hisses through gritted teeth. San shifts under the weight of his tone but doesn’t say anything in response. “The only reason I left Hongjoong’s quarters was to keep from knocking him out. If there was any other option, I would take it.”

Jongho clears his throat and effectively breaks the tension between the two men, shaking his head slightly as he steps closer to them.

“There is another option.” Jongho jerks his head towards you and San. He points a single finger in your direction, aimed right at your head, and you press your lips together tightly as confusion washes over you. “I’m leaving in the morning at the same time as you two and Yeosang are to leave for the mission. You will have comms on hand, obviously. Yeosang and San can sneak into the base, guided by you over comms, but you won’t have to set foot inside. And at least for your peace of mind and security, I can stay with you at a secure location while you guide them through the base.”

“That...” Seonghwa trails off and draws his lips together in a tight knot. “That might work, actually.”

“Wow, don’t sound so surprised.”

“No, I’m not surprised,” Seonghwa retorts through a scoff. “I’ll be in charge of listening over comms throughout the mission. If we can come up with a system – a sort of code word – to keep Hongjoong from catching on, we might be able to pull this off. I’ll be at the comms station on the bridge, so Hongjoong won’t hear anything except for what I say. Thus, I can’t very well say that it’s time to destroy the serum.”

“When I was – in my team in the military, we had a system for explosive and detonation squadrons,” you cut in, fingers snapping together in sudden realization. 

“I didn’t realize you were a part of an explosives team,” Seonghwa remarks. His brows draw together a bit as he speaks, and you can sense the question on his lips before he even asks it. 

“That’s the thing you’re most concerned about right now?” You don’t intend for the question to come out so aggressive, and the slight shock that passes over Seonghwa’s expression only serves to make you feel ten times worse about the slip of your tongue. “Anyway, there was always a worry of someone listening in on our comms, so it was a failsafe more than anything else, but we used ‘package’ as a keyword for a bomb. ‘Secure the package’ meant it was time to place the bomb, ‘package secured’ meant that the bomb was in place and ready to be detonated, and ‘come home’ was a go signal for detonation. A bit basic, yes, but useful nonetheless.”

“That should be a perfect plan, no?” San inquires, blinking over at where Seonghwa is standing. The lieutenant maintains his stare on you for quite some time; he almost seems lost in thought to a certain degree, and it takes San clearing his throat for Seonghwa to snap out of it.

“Yes, we’ll just need the package to be the serum rather than a bomb. Jongho—” he outstretches a hand to the Berserker, hesitating a few inches from his arm, “—does this mean that you’ll stay then?”

“Only if you manage to pull this off.”

“I’d like to think I know what I’m doing.” Seonghwa huffs out a light laugh and pulls his hand back to run it through his hair. “This isn’t the first time I’ve gone against Hongjoong’s wishes. Right now though, someone needs to go talk to Yeosang about this plan. Preferably one of you two.” Seonghwa angles two fingers towards you and San, and you glance over at the Spectre before saying anything yourself.

“Yeosang will never listen to me,” San cuts in with a sharp shake of his head. “And I’m not all too inclined to have a one on one conversation with him anyway.”

“Then I’ll go.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jongho mutters through a sigh. “I need to talk to Wooyoung about… this mess. I know he’s the most upset by it.”

“Right, that’ll be fine.” Seonghwa thumbs over his chin, seeming to drift off into thought once more. The wear is starting to show more clearly on his features; the way his blinking has slowed considerably and become a bit hard to keep up with. It’s more than evident that he is struggling to stay awake with each passing second, and that alone makes you wonder exactly how much he and Hongjoong have been up over this past week in preparation for this mission. “Y/N, inform Yeosang of the plan. If Wooyoung is there, it should be easier to convince him since Wooyoung will most certainly agree with the plan. Hopefully, this can be a smooth and painless mission for once, but nonetheless… good luck. I won’t be able to talk to any of you until we’re on comms tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go talk to Yunho about what the hell is going through his head in all this mess.”

Seonghwa turns to the door and readies himself to leave, but Jongho doesn’t let him get far, hand darting out to catch hold of the lieutenant’s arm. 

“Keep… keep working on Hongjoong, would you?” Jongho’s request is spoken in a soft tone, and he barely glances up at Seonghwa as he speaks. Seonghwa smiles back at him even though the other man can’t see his expression.

“Of course. We’ll get this worked out as best we can.”

Jongho’s hand falls away from his arm, and Seonghwa takes the opportunity to step out of the room without saying anything else. The silence that drapes over the remaining three of you is not welcome, but you relish in it while you can, knowing that these next few days won’t be peaceful in the slightest. San lets it linger for a few seconds, fingers combing through his dark hair, then he releases a deep sigh.

“Good luck with Yeosang. You’ll need it. I’m gonna head down to the hangar bay to get weapons sorted for tomorrow.”

Jongho nods, and you follow suit quickly when San’s gaze travels over to where you’re standing. He smiles a bit, gaze unreadable as he moves out the door and leaves you and Jongho alone. There’s an opportunity now – you could ask Jongho if he’s truly alright now that it’s just the two of you, but your voice dies in the back of your throat before you can even think about what to say.

“Let’s go get this over with. I’m not looking forward to chatting with Wooyoung.”

“Why not?” You rush to ask the question before you can second-guess yourself, falling into step with Jongho as he leads the way out of the room.

“Outside of Yeosang, I’m the closest to him but… if there was a way to avoid this, then I would have done it. There’s always too much collateral damage when it comes to fights like these. Hurting him is the last thing I wanted to do.” Jongho pauses, lips stuttering and remaining parted for quite some time before he speaks again. “The worst part about being a Berserker isn’t the – the rage or the violent tendencies I feel. It’s t-the pain. When I hurt someone I care about, I feel that pain so strongly, and I – sometimes I wish I could be like Mingi instead, not have the ability to feel bad when that pain comes or not be able to understand it because understanding is worse. This just… it has to work out.”

“It will,” you murmur. Your eyes trace the edges of Jongho’s features – his knitted brows and downcast gaze – and you are in the midst of reaching out to grab his arm when he halts all of a sudden. You forgot how short the walk would be; you’re already standing outside Yeosang’s door, the metal nameplate on the wall reading his name in small letters. Jongho knocks hard at the door with the back of his hand.

“Yeosang, you in there?”

A high-pitched yelp resounds, followed by a hefty thud that sounds something like a body hitting the floor, then Wooyoung’s squealing tone apologizing, and you and Jongho exchange confused glances. Whatever hit the floor – most like Yeosang from the sounds of it – groans and pulls itself up before coming to the door and heaving a deep sigh. The metal panel slides open to reveal a disheveled Yeosang, hair a mess but overall collected. Wooyoung seems to be in a much more scrambled state with his shirt haphazard and untucked, eyes bloodshot – no doubt from crying – and lips a bit swollen and redder than usual. 

“Oh, yikes, did we interrupt something?” Jongho asks, taking a step away from the door.

“Oh, shut up!” Wooyoung huffs as he shoves his way past Yeosang to tackle Jongho with a tight hug. “You’re a dick,” he mumbles into Jongho’s shoulder, and the Berserker laughs at the snarky remark.

“You got me there, I’ll admit it.”

“Why are you here?” Yeosang cuts through the intimate moment to question you, eyes glaring holes into your skull as you linger outside the room. 

“I – We need to talk about the mission,” you explain. Yeosang arches a brow at you and continues to stare without making a sound, then he draws his arms up to fold over his chest. “It’s important, Yeosang.”

“Hm, must be for you to actually call me by name. Come in.” He waves you into the room, eyeing Wooyoung as the man continues to cling to Jongho for dear life. You step in and wait for the door to snap shut before beginning to speak again. 

“Tomorrow, you and San are going into the military alone. I’ll be with Jongho at a different location guiding you over comms. Seonghwa is going to be listening in and helping where he needs to, as well as keeping Hongjoong from figuring out what’s going on. We’ll ne–”

“And what exactly is going on?” Yeosang interjects. His gaze grows colder by the second, hitting you with such intensity that you feel a chill rush through your body. 

“Keeping Hongjoong from getting the serum,” you counter. You’re pushing as much assertiveness as you can into your tone, yet Yeosang still seems unfazed. “We have to keep him from wiping Mingi’s mind!”

“And why is that?”

“Why is that? Are you being fucking serious? Why the hell wouldn’t you be okay with this?” Your tone practically burns your throat as you hiss the words out. You dare to take a step in his direction, but that quickly turns out to be a horrid mistake. 

Yeosang sneers, upper lip curling upwards, then suddenly his fist connects with your stomach. You double over at the impact, and Wooyoung is calling out Yeosang’s name, but the blond is already hellbent on giving you a piece of his mind. Lithe fingers curl around the base of your neck and push you back until you slam against the wall. There’s a striking sense of familiarity to this position – one that takes you back to the dusty desert of Medra where Yeosang left you with a thinly veiled threat concerning your intentions on the ship and crew. 

“You are on thin fucking ice as it is, Y/N. I only maintain civilities with you for Wooyoung’s sake, but honestly, I would have no qualms ending your life where you stand now if not for him. You had best take into consideration that you are not one of us. You haven’t been on this crew nearly long enough to be making such demands, and you haven’t earned an ounce of respect from me. If I were you, I wouldn’t dare to test my patience any more than you already have.”

“Yeosang, stop!” 

Wooyoung pulls away from Jongho and starts to move towards where Yeosang has you pinned. The fingers around your throat tighten to a dangerous degree. Black fills the edges of your vision. 

“Yeosang.” Wooyoung slips through the small gap between you and Yeosang, hands sliding up to cup Yeosang’s cheeks. Yeosang doesn’t relent in his grip. He stares past Wooyoung’s head in favor of glaring at you and doesn’t budge an inch as Wooyoung tries to push him back. “Stop it. Let her go. She’s right about this, and you know it. Are you really okay with forcing Mingi into this? All the progress we’ve made over the years would go down the drain, and for what? Absolutely nothing. Do you really think this is right?”

Yeosang’s grip wavers against your throat, but he still refuses to budge. Wooyoung pushes his head, the grip on his jaw tightening as he forces Yeosang to look at him.

“Look at me, Yeo. Look at me, please.”

“I’m an Elitist, Wooyoung, not some easily swayed Normie with a moral compass. It is in my nature to choose the most logical option. Getting on Hongjoong’s bad side isn’t logical. That won’t protect you in the long run. Taking away the most dangerous part of Mingi, taking away his aggression and hypersensitive trigger happy nature – that protects you.” Wooyoung snorts, head turning to the side as he laughs at Yeosang’s logic.

“Then tell me, Yeo, was shooting the chains of a prisoner and pushing him into an airlock the logical decision?” Yeosang’s eyes flash with barely contained rage. “Or was it the right thing to do?” 

Wooyoung drops his hands away from Yeosang’s face and tugs at the bindings over his injured hand. Yeosang doesn’t seem to process what he’s doing fast enough, and neither do you or Jongho because next thing you know, Wooyoung has his sleeve pulled up and is ripping at the barely closed wound. By the time Yeosang snaps into action, hand wrenching off your throat to stretch towards Wooyoung’s arm, blood already drips down the length of his forearm. Wooyoung smacks Yeosang’s desperate hand away from him and steps out of his reach.

“You can protect me from all sorts of things in the universe, Yeo, but you can’t protect me from myself. The logical thing to do would be to keep me from hurting myself, not allowing it, locking me up in chains and a straight-jacket. Put me in a room with padded walls and no sharp object where I can’t hurt myself. But you can’t do the logical thing, can you?” Wooyoung curls his fingers into a fist and extends his index finger towards Yeosang’s chest. Blood drips to the floor with the motion, and when Wooyoung jabs his finger into Yeosang’s torso, the Elitist lurches as though punched. “There’s a difference between a logical thing and a good thing. It’s time to do the right thing. If not for Mingi, then for me. Because I’m asking you to.”

Yeosang blinks down at the finger pressed to his chest without saying anything for what feels like an eternity. When he next looks up, his expression has lost every ounce of hostility. He matches Wooyoung’s stare with a considerably gentler one, and something akin to pride shines in his dark eyes before he shifts to face you once more.

“I’m on board for now. At least until it’s not the right thing to do anymore.” 

✧✧✧ a/n: hi guys wow this was longer than i anticipated??? i didn’t mean for it to be so long whoopsie bUT!!! big chapter kinda a filler chapter i was gonna make it longer but i decided to save that for the next chapter, so this one is more of an intimate in depth look at things 👀 how do we feel!!!

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[theworldbrewery]

Interpersonal conflict at the table: what do you do?

As wonderful as it would be, D&D is no more free of people having beef with one another than any other hobby. There are many reasons there could be conflict out-of-character at the table.

A rules disagreement turned ugly

A player’s character sabotages another PC, and the players get heated

Someone is perpetually late, not paying attention, or not communicating their scheduling needs

A character’s ideology turns out to be shared by their player, and the ensuing in-character argument is taken personally

Two or more players have an unrelated issue in real life, and bring their bad blood to the table with them

As the DM, it may fall to you to referee disputes that happen out of character when it starts to affect the game. While this isn’t necessarily fair, it still happens.

I’ll admit, I’m still learning how to handle a situation like this. My group has had its fair share of conflicts; I’d imagine many groups are the same way.

No conflict is going to be exactly the same, but here are some basic guidelines to help you get through it:

First, try to consider all the angles. Even if you feel like you have clear feelings on who is right or wrong, if you’re trying to step in for the good of the entire group, that means being fair to everyone and acknowledging your biases. If you can’t do that: please, please take a step back. Ask someone who can be more impartial to help, get advice from an uninvolved 3rd party, whatever you need to do. Keep in mind that everyone thinks they’re in the right and has reasons for feeling the way they do, even if you disagree.

Second, consider your role as the DM carefully. If you’re involved in a rules dispute or someone is metagaming to the detriment of others enjoying the game, you must remember that as the DM, you have a power dynamic with your players. They might be worried about you taking out your anger on their character, being biased because of closer relationships with certain players, etc. If you try to calm a conflict, even if you aren’t personally involved, back off the instant your input seems unwelcome.

Third, if possible, talk to everyone involved individually. D&D is social; it’s collaborative; and if you put someone on blast in a public forum, it doesn’t matter how nice you are about it: they will hate that. If something is going wrong mid-session, either power through by glossing over the issue or end the session early. A little awkwardness at this time is better than a public argument, which is what this can turn into.

Fourth, remember it’s okay if someone wants to leave, but don’t be overly hasty to throw them out. Sometimes, especially in conflicts that occur outside the realm of D&D itself, a rift just can’t be healed. Stay out of conflicts between players if they aren’t directly about the game, try to be understanding of all sides, and let it go if someone wants to quit. However, unless someone has done something you can’t accept, don’t succumb to any pressure to force someone out of the group. For instance, if two players have a bad breakup, you aren’t obligated to kick one out to appease the other. If one of your players was saying racist things and got called out, that’s an appropriate time to tell them they’re not welcome. At the same time, with game-related issues, give a player a few chances to change after you talk to them--an egregious metagamer may not have any idea they’re making the game less fun for everyone else until you talk to them.

Fifth, if you must get involved, be gentle, and give people the benefit of the doubt. Players probably aren’t trying to make others have less fun, so don’t attack them for a roleplaying mistake. Instead, let them know 1) the behavior that you take issue with, 2) the effect it has on you and other players, and 3) a suggestion or 2 you have to prevent this in the future. Be specific, but don’t name names. In a situation where one PC’s sexual advances are creating tension, say “Another player mentioned that frank discussions of sex make them uncomfortable, and I don’t feel great when you hit on my NPCs so aggressively. I know you think of this as an in-character trait, so maybe in the future you can just say “Lancelot is going to flirt with the barmaid” and we can be more discreet.”

Experienced DMs--share your thoughts on handling interpersonal conflict! How responsible do you feel a DM is (or should be) for dealing with an issue? What methods have worked for you?

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 27

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: The exam season is underway (yet somehow I don’t mention the exams all too many times...)

A/N: Yay, I'm back with this fic!! I think I can promise a bit more regular updates at least in the near future, but I will be starting to work longer hours possibly starting from next week so I will have a bit less free time then. I am still determined to keep up with my 500ish words per day goal so it should cause too much delay!

That's that, I hope you guys are as happy to return to this universe as I am! As usual, please let me know what you think :) This fic is about to take my longest fic position from Love Can Melt the Ice, so knowing that there are people who care about it really means a lot to me!

Words: 2393

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

Leo would have been lying if he had claimed that everything went back to completely normal after the talk with Calypso. Sure, they both really tried harder to act as neutral and friendly as possible around each other; whenever they were at home at the same time, they chatted casually about how things were going at work and at the university, their latest TV show or music discoveries, or some silly thing one of their friends had said or done recently. Sometimes they even watched something together or cleaned the common area together. However, the earlier confessions were never mentioned. On the surface things were ‘just fine’, but the unspoken words and lingering looks spoke for itself. Leo knew things were still heating up under the surface and sooner or later they would have to make some difficult decisions. But until then, he wasn’t going to risk anything by disrespecting the guidelines that they had set during their ‘big talk’, even if it was hard to resist sometimes.

One evening Leo found Calypso studying for her upcoming exams on the common area couch. She was wearing a pink, tunic length sweater that matched her lip color, and black leggings that hugged her legs tightly (not that he’d ever tell her that he had noticed such things). She had also pulled her now medium length hair into a messy ponytail so it wouldn’t bother her while she was reading, showing her nicely shaped facial features better. Despite noticing all that, Leo’s thoughts soon went to the facts that he had recently learned about his flatmate. Now he knew more about the hardships she had gone through; a dead sister, an abusive, controlling father, being alone all those years and the nightmares she had mentioned while drunk. Yet, somehow there she was, having escaped her father’s grip and looking perfectly content doing something as boring and normal as studying for exams. The girl was way stronger than he had earlier given her credit for, and Leo admired her capability to stay so calm; he wasn’t so sure the ghosts of his own past would leave him alone that easily.

“Hi,” he finally said before Calypso noticed that he’d been standing there just watching her far too long despite the rules they had set. “What are you reading?”

Calypso showed him the book. If she was surprised to see him, she hid it well. “A collage of Frenchmen’s experiences at the front lines during World War II. I know. A very cheerful way to finish the day.” She grimaced.

“Huh? I thought you were mostly focusing on older history? I didn’t know you study that stuff too,” Leo noted, shifting from one foot to another.

“Well, they do require us to have a good enough understanding of the newer events as well,” Calypso replied, now looking at him directly. For some reason that one look managed to make chills go down Leo’s spine. “It is true, though, that I am more interested in ancient history. There’s so much we still don’t know about those times and I want to be able to discover more.”

“I see,” Leo said. “I think I understand what you mean. I am constantly hoping to discover new ways to create things that will be useful for all of us. Flying dragons that use energy drinks as their energy source? How epic would that be?” Excitement surged through him when he simply thought about it.

“Isn’t that a bit out there?” Calypso asked, but Leo didn’t miss the amused glint in her eyes. “And what if everyone had flying dragons and that would cause horrible air accidents? I don’t know about you but to me they don’t sound very safe.”

“Sunshine, what’s life without some danger?” Leo questioned.

“Hmm, let me think: safe?” Calypso retorted.

“Ouch. Well, I don’t think I have time to invent flying dragons any time soon, so you don’t have to worry about that,” Leo reassured her, but now that the idea had been planted into his head, he decided to return to it some day in the future. Hopefully when he would be able to handle fire.

“That’s a relief,” Calypso replied. “Speaking of your inventions… have you decided what you’re going to do about your studies? The last time I asked you said you haven’t been in contact with your professor yet.”

That was a question Leo had been dreading for. He preferred to not talk about that topic unless he had to, but the truth was that he was still quite unsure about being able to continue. However, he hadn’t made any final decisions yet.

“I’ll… I’ll keep working to overcome my fear,” he responded vaguely. “I think I’ve made some small progress during our sessions. If I can keep that going, I may be able to retake the test next year. Small steps, you know.” In reality, so far he had managed to stay close to a small, burning candle for a short period of time without freaking out, but he still didn’t want to try the matches whenever Calypso suggested it. There was still a long way to go before he’d be able to use all the machines he needed during lab classes and at work.

“Okay,” Calypso said, but to Leo she sounded a bit unconvinced. Her voice got more reassuring, though, when she added: “You know that you can ask for my help any time you need it.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Leo nodded. “And same right back at you. I mean, you can ask me. If you need anything.” For some annoying reason he managed to only get stuttering out of his mouth at that moment. “Even if you simply want me to make you a miniature dragon in the middle of the night. It’s fine. I’d totally make it.”

“And why would I want you to make me a miniature dragon in the middle of the night?” Calypso looked at him questioningly. Before Leo managed to answer, her face softened into a smile and she added: “I really appreciate the thought, though. It feels so different… in a good way… to have people in my life who genuinely support me. I haven’t had that, well, since I got separated from my mom.”

She sat a bit straighter on the couch, her gaze going back and front between Leo and her book, and Leo wondered if she was debating if she should reach for him and touch his shoulder or something. Maybe even hug. One side of him wished she would just go for it. But that would have violated their newly made rules and neither wanted to make things even more complicated than they already were. They simply kept staring at each other for a while, as if trying to read each other’s thoughts, but finally Calypso sighed and turned her focus back on her book, closing it.

“I didn’t realize it’s already this late…” She said, adjusting her hair a bit with the hand that wasn’t holding the book. “I still need to finish an assignment for tomorrow.”

She stood up and started walking towards her room, but when she got past Leo, her arm briefly touched his. Leo’s arm was still tingling after Calypso closed the door behind her.

…

A few days later, Leo was still thinking of that incident when he almost fell over a big rock that was standing on his road. He and Jason were currently having a well deserved evening off after finishing their last exams of the semester earlier that day (Leo felt like he had at least succeeded with the calculations but his essay writing was a bit sloppy) and in honor of that they had decided to go for a long jog and after that have a big, unhealthy meal in one of their favorite pizza places. While they were on their way there, Jason had been explaining something about his holiday plans when Leo had zoned out, and Jason had to grab his arm so he didn’t fall.

“Hey, man, you OK?” Jason asked, frowning. “What just happened there?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m OK.” Leo brushed some dust off the sleeves of his coat. “I was just… thinking. And didn’t notice the rock on the road.”

“Hmmm, what got you that thoughtful?” Jason inquired. “I bet you didn’t even hear what I just said.”

“You know I have a pretty nasty case of ADHD, sometimes I just zone out randomly,” Leo said defensively, not wanting to admit aloud that recently he had been even more distracted than usual because of a certain flatmate of his. “And no, I didn’t hear you.”

“Alright,” Jason shrugged. “I was telling you that Piper’s dad has invited us to visit him over the break. I’m not sure yet if we are going, though. Piper didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it. Sure, she wants to see him, but she suspects he’s still working most of the time so it would be the same to just call instead of traveling all the way to LA.”

“Mmmh,” Leo mumbled, trying hard to stay in the present moment. “I’m going to be at Waystation during the break so if you guys decide to stay, we can still hang out.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know what we decide to do. That wasn’t all, though…” Jason continued, his face becoming concerned. “I think Piper has seemed quite distant lately, and not just when we’ve been talking about that trip. Sometimes I worry that she’s gotten bored of me, or something.”

“No way, man!” Leo exclaimed. “I’ve seen you guys together often enough to know that she loves you. Maybe she’s just going through a rough phase or something.”

Jason didn’t seem quite convinced. “I guess so. It’s just that usually she tells me directly what’s bothering her. This… keeping things inside her isn’t like her.”

“Maybe you just need to give her some time,” Leo suggested. “It’s like me with Cal; I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut more often and in exchange she has slowly started opening up to me more recently.”

“She has? That’s great!” Jason cheered up. “How is it going with you two anyway? I heard some things about the Halloween party aftermath…”

“Nothing happened after the party!” Leo yelped, raising his hands. “Whatever Piper has told you, all lies.”

“Really? So you two wouldn’t have kissed if Piper hadn’t interrupted you guys?” Jason raised his eyebrow.

If Leo’s cheeks hadn’t already been red from the jogging, he certainly would have blushed. “Um… well… the point is that we didn’t. Besides, we’ve set some rules that we’re supposed to follow because we don’t wanna make our co living too complicated.”

“So there is something going on between you two and you are acknowledging it,” Jason teased. “You wouldn’t need to set any rules otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leo muttered. “If you must know, we did admit that we like each other after the party.”

“But that’s great!” Jason exclaimed.

“It feels pretty crazy,” Leo replied. “Sometimes I wonder why she likes me, but maybe the Bad Boy Supreme’s magic is stronger than I thought.”

Jason snorted at his comment. “I don’t know Calypso as well as you do but I doubt it’s the so-called Bad Boy Supreme side that she cares about. You pretend to be all cool and try to seem like you don’t care about what’s happening around you but I think you do that only because you care too much. Maybe Calypso has noticed that as well.”

“Dude, you’ve been hanging out with Piper too much.” Leo shook his head. “That’s something she would say. ” “Well, she’s not wrong. Anyway, what happened after the big confession?”Jason asked curiously.

“We’re not together if that’s what you’re asking, ” Leo denied immediately. “I just mentioned the rules, remember? We wouldn’t need them if we had decided to go down that road.” “Ouch… but why? Why didn’t you just decide to do it?” Jason wanted to know.

“For some stupid, noble reasons,” Leo grunted. “I’m not gonna go into the details because it’s up to her to talk about it, but long story short, she thinks it’s safer that way. I think she’s afraid of hurting one of us.”

“And do you think she’s right?” Jason inquired.

“I… No! I’ve told her I can handle it. But I’m not gonna push it - believe me, Jo and Emmie have given me long lectures about respecting women’s boundaries. If Cal and I wanna keep living together, I have to let it be.”

“Yeah, I can see your point.” Jason nodded.

“Besides…” Leo added after a moment, his face falling as he thought about his past. “Bad things tend to follow me. Who is to say that I wouldn’t be the one getting her into trouble?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because when have I ever been successful with anything I’ve done?” Leo asked in return.

Jason seemed to finally understand what event Leo was really referring to. “You’re still beating yourself for things that happened years ago?”

“Why do you think I’m not capable of going to some of the lab classes? Because I simply think that skipping is fun and I don’t care whether I pass it or not?” There had been a time when Leo hadn’t cared about his school success, but back in those days he hadn’t cared about much else either. Now that he had dreams and things to live for, he hated the idea that anyone would think he’d throw it all away just because he could. His new family deserved better than that for what they had done for him.

“No, no, I was not thinking that! You just never talk about it so I assumed… whatever.” Jason didn’t want to make Leo even angrier so he decided it was better to change the topic. “Maybe we should talk about something else. I still hope that you and Cal will work it out eventually.”

“Yeah. I hope so too. Same for you and Piper.” The friends had gotten close to their destination, so Leo exclaimed quickly: “Hey, I’m smelling the pizza now! Whoever is last at the door pays!”

“That’s a bad deal because you know I’m faster than you. I train every day!” Jason pointed out but soon sprinted after him.

[aylinaliens]

Hi! Could I maybe request RamKing being the absolute best, once again, and maybe educating their friends on ‘switches’, after this episode i think they need it, or something along those lines as king as it’s RamKing I’m happy! Thank you!

hello! hopefully you like it, it went on longer than i thought but i had to add a ramking moment. you can read it on ao3 or down below

summary: “But...I gave you that drink last week.” Ram paused and King felt his stomach lurched with excitement. Okay well...maybe this was a bit weird but wasn’t this a normal reaction when you had a crush? To feel as if you suddenly can breathe easily for the first time in your life while at the same time being unable to do so? But why did King never remember this feeling when he had crushes on other people?Realization seemed to click on Ram’s face as he connected the dots. “Are you...bringing me plants so that I would talk to you?”

think of me when you look after it (ram/king) 

"You know you can switch right?" The words were out of King's mouth before he could stop them. Constantly listening to Bohn insistent complaining was starting to get on his nerves. He was unsure why this conversation was even happening considering Bohn and Duen never did as much as kiss. Yet somehow their nonexistence sex life was the main topic of conversation for the last hour and half. He was fully planning on staying out of it, perhaps teasing Bohn a little because it was fun, but curiosity got the best out of it. Turns out this whole entire situation could have been solved by a simple search on their phones.

King was met with a variety of stares from his friends-mostly in confusion. It was obvious from the glazed look in their eyes that he would have to spell it out. "During sex, you can switch roles. No one just has to be the top and no one just has to be the bottom." For emphasis he held his phone in front of Bohn's face to show him the article, who was currently leaning against King’s chair on the floor.

Bohn squinted at the device in suspicion. " That's a real thing? But I thought you just had to pick one?"

Before King could answer he was cut off by Wai. "Isn't that a BDSM thing?" Now it was King's turn to stare in confusion. She shrugged before grabbing another shot and bringing it to her lips. "What? I heard it from somewhere."

Shaking his head he pulled his phone away from Bohn to read the web page once more. "It can be but I'm not referring to that. Someone who switches can do both, depending on their mood usually. It has nothing to do with femininity and masculinity. Just because someone is smaller and sweet doesn't mean they would be the submissive one. The same thing goes for those who are bigger and rougher."

King looked away from his phone only to see Bohn somehow looking even more confused. His eyebrows were knit together and he was fiddling with one of the buttons of his shirt. He knew he should have left it alone but he was curious. It seems like he was curious about a lot of things lately.

Actually he seemed to only be curious about one person really. He wanted to prepare in case- no. Nope. King was not going to allow his mind to wander that far. Even if King ever gained enough nerve to tell Ram how he felt he highly doubted that Ram would feel the same. But that was okay, really. He was content at what they had now, whatever it was. Was it simply a crush? That wasn't enough. Was he in love? That still somehow didn't encapsulate the full depth of his feelings. Perhaps he was in between the two at the moment. There was no doubt in King's mind that he liked Ram, though. It was just a simple fact that King gradually realized as the weeks went on but he was unsure if he was ready for things to change. There was still so much he was curious to learn about Ram and he didn't want it to become clouded by the physical stuff. He felt on top of the world just by Ram saying a full sentence to him. He was positive that he would be unable to handle Cool Boy holding his hand let alone kissing him. Still, King figured that someone in his friendship group should be informed about this stuff. He had zero ulterior motives. None whatsoever. Just curiosity.    

It seemed like the rest of the group tuned out, partially from boredom and partially from the round of shots that were delivered to their table. Bohn thankfully opted out drinking and instead was still trying to process King's words from a few moments ago. "Wait, but how do you decide? Do you just flip a coin or something?"

King seriously hoped that Bohn and Duen didn't sleep together for a very long time-it was clear that they both needed to mature.

"I guess it depends on the mood."

"How do we figure out the mood?" It was as if King was talking to a child at this point. Still, he tried to remain patient. It was clear that Bohn was upset about this, more so over the fact that Duen's personality did a complete 180. Or it had to do with the fact that his masculinity was called into question. King guessed Duen seemed to be struggling with that too.

So for the next ten minutes King answered every question Bohn threw his way, no matter how embarrassing they were. He had to remind Bohn quite a few times that he was far from an expert and he should speak to someone who was but knew that someone had to do it. He was sure Boss would just find another DuenBohn fan fiction and use that as an educational tool.

Just as Bohn opened his mouth to ask another question King cut him off. "Are you ready to have sex with Duen?" It was blunt and far from King's business. It was no one else's but their own. But he assumed that after the conversation they just had- after all the diagrams they saw -it would be safe to ask it.

Bohn's cheeks were already red from the alcohol but it somehow burned even brighter. His eyes went comically wide as his mouth opened and closed a few times, struggling to form a coherent reply. "N-no? We haven't. We haven't even k-kissed. Why would you ask that?" King really couldn't stand his friend sometimes. How was it this question that made him flustered and not the in depth discussion they had about the best positions for the first time.

"If you're not ready to have sex than why are you guys fighting about this? I'm not saying you shouldn't educate yourself on this but you're letting everyone's opinions influence you."

Bohn sent a glare at King. "Weren't you the one teasing me earlier? You were pushing your opinions on me."

King did push his opinions on him but that was before he did his research. It's not like he would stop teasing Bohn about Duen but maybe he'll stay away from this touchy topic. He didn't bother to answer that question. "Look, you need to talk to Duen about this, not us. We are not the ones who you're in a relationship with. It's none of our business. We can joke about it and I'm here for you but...this is not our decision to make. If you truly don't want to lose him you need to have this discussion. It doesn't even have to be about sex but set up some guidelines and rules so that when you do get to that point you'll know what to do."

Bohn took a few minutes to mull things over as King slowly began to sip his drink. He was going to need a lot of alcohol to get this conversation out of his mind. It's not that he was ashamed but it was a tad bit embarrassing to have a crash course lesson on sex education in the middle of a crowded bar with your best friend. Finally, Bohn nodded and spoke, his voice still slightly slurred from the alcohol. "I want Duen." Obviously. "I want him to pick me up so that we can talk about this. Right now. Right here." Okay that's not so good of an idea. King meant they should have the conversation completely sober and preferably when he was not present. "I'm not leaving unless he picks me up."

It was possible that King just made things ten times worse than before. Damn his curiosity.

Turns out he didn’t make things as worse as he originally thought. Both Duen and Bohn finally sat down and had a serious conversation about the whole thing ( and finally set boundaries for their friends). However, because Bohn and Duen are stubborn and strong willed they automatically found something else to bicker about but this time King was not going to intervene. He was too busy trying to get a certain boy to just say one more word to him.

Just as Ram was about to get on his bike King appeared, bag in hand. He was met with a blank stare but King was used to it. He thrusted the bag toward the other boy and flashed him a grin. “Thanks for the drink you bought me. I figured I should probably repay you for it.” Ram cautiously took the bag and peaked inside, only to glance up with a perplexed expression.

“You got me another one?” Was it weird that those words were like music to King’s ears? It probably was but he didn’t really care. King ran a hand through his hair, a nervous tick that he only seemed to do in Ram’s presence, before grinning again. “Yup. It’s the least I could do.”

“But...I gave you that drink last week.” Ram paused and King felt his stomach lurched with excitement. Okay well...maybe this was a bit weird but wasn’t this a normal reaction when you had a crush? To feel as if you suddenly can breathe easily for the first time in your life while at the same time being unable to do so? But why did King never remember this feeling when he had crushes on other people?

Realization seemed to click on Ram’s face as he connected the dots. “Are you...bringing me plants so that I would talk to you?”

King leaned forward, close enough that their faces were only a few inches apart. He was still not ready for that yet but he had to admit it was amusing to watch Ram squirm. His eyes went wide as his cheeks tinted an adorable shade of pink. “I might be, Cool Boy. Do you have a problem with it? Do you want me to stop?"

Rather than replying Ram ducked his head before jumping on his bike and peddling away. If anyone else did that King would have thought it was rude but with Ram it was different. It was just... so him. By now he was used to the silence and abrupt endings to their meetings but he had to admit he liked it even better when he got to hear Ram’s voice. He ran a hand through his hair as he watched the other boy slowly disappear as he turned a corner and patiently waited for his phone to buzz. Not even twenty seconds later King’s phone began to buzz in his pocket. Right on time. Slipping the phone out of his pants he began to read the messages, a soft smile on his face.

No.

No, I don’t have a problem with it.

You can bring me as many plants as you want.

And thank you.

Another few seconds passed before the phone buzzed one last time.

You don’t always have to bring me a Venus flytrap though. You said they are very hard to germinate so...it’s up to you.

Oh, King had a very long list of plants he could give to Ram that takes little time to germinate but he would still give him Venus flytraps too, just because it’s worth the wait ( Ram was worth the wait).

[izaswritings]

all that’s left in the world | chapter seven

Title: all that’s left in the world—

Synopsis: —is me.

Neku’s been shot and Shibuya is threatening to go the same way as Shinjuku, but just because the first Game is over doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten how to play.

Or: Neku deals with a nightmare city and his most annoying (and mathematical) partner yet; Shiki and Joshua commit an escalating number of illegal moves, Beat and Eri hunt down a stray Reaper, and Rhyme watches and waits for the counter-attack. Shibuya refuses to go down easy.

Fandom: The World Ends With You | TWEWY

Warnings: cursing, referenced character death via Neku’s situation/Reaper’s game, implied death/erasure via Inversion, and mentions of blood and bodily harm, though nothing graphic. If there’s anything in the chapter you feel I missed, let me know and I’ll add it on here!

-

AO3 Link is here!

Previous chapters are here!

-

part seven: pact

.

.

.

The sun sets.

Neku stands at the end of the street and watches, narrow-eyed, as the distant blur of light sinks below the jagged edge of the ruined city skyline. It doesn’t look quite right—because of course it doesn’t, this is a nightmare city and everything about it feels designed to be as uncanny valley as possible. He’s pretty sure it’s a sunset, though. The sky has stained a bloody red; the shadows are stretching long and thin by his feet. The cloud of dust and smog lingering in the air like a false fog has turned red too— the whole world cast in some awful, ugly light.

They’re on the edge of the city, in a residential area. The fruition of a full day of travelling through these ruined streets. It only took a couple of hours, but they’ve finally hit the end of it, the border of this twisted Game. They can’t go any further beyond this point.

There’s definitely a wall— Neku checked, and his hand still smarts from the burn—but like everything else, it’s not something he’s familiar with. The walls in the first Reaper’s Game had been clear and crystalline; this one is like blurry glass. If he squints, he can almost see through it: the suggestion of buildings, people and places alive and whole… but the way is smeared with an ashy fog. It’s as if this city has been surrounded by a great wall of mist, cutting them off from the rest of the world.

There’s no getting through that thing, Neku thinks. Not without a high level keypin, and even then, he’s not sure even that could break it. There’s something very final about this wall. Escape isn’t an option.

Argh, he can’t even figure out where they are. Those distant buildings could be Shibuya or even the other half of Tokyo, and hey! Neku wouldn’t have a damn clue. It’s not like this place has been any help. Any identifying buildings have been dusted; Neku is totally lost.

Either way, the wall isn’t coming down anytime soon. It’s useless to stay here any longer, but…

Neku grimaces, and shoves a hand back through his hair, eyeing his new partner warily. Minamimoto doesn’t seem keen on leaving; he isn’t paying any attention to Neku at all, focus entirely caught on… something.

It’s probably a tower of trash. It looks like one of his towers of trash? When they’d arrived here only twenty minutes ago, there’d been some hollow shells of cars, and weird debris littered on the ground, and the Grim Heaper had taken one look at it and grinned like a shark. Then he’d started stacking it. Neku is kind of, a little, annoyed at that. He’s also not planning on complaining. Finally, a moment to breathe.

The tower taking shape behind him, Neku watches the blood-stained air for a few minutes more, then sighs and turns away.

“We’re not blacking out,” he says, aloud. “I think we’re here for the night.” Which, go figure. The one thing that might be nice about the Game—skipping the inconveniences of shelter in an apocalyptic city—is the one thing he’s not getting. “Hey, are you listening? We should probably find somewhere to lay low.”

Minamimoto doesn’t answer. He seems intent on the tower. Neku shakes his head and moves away from the wall. Whatever. He’ll find a place himself. It’s not like they’re going to be able to go far. The sun’s setting, so… he has maybe twenty minutes before it goes totally dark.

Neku heads for one of the buildings. Sure, it’s an empty shell and looks like it might topple at a stiff breeze, but it hasn’t fallen yet all day, right? So if they’re careful, and don’t get ambushed by Noise while inside…

It’s probably fine.

It takes him a couple tries to find a room untouched. Neku gets lucky on floor number two—it used to be an apartment, probably, a small one-room place with a skeleton kitchen, whited out and hollowed and scraped clean. But there’s a bleached futon in the corner and an ashy rug on the floor and hey, it’s better than nothing, right?

He pries open the dusty window and leans out. The tower is almost completed—he’s guessing, but he’s seen enough of them to tell. “Hey,” he says.

A long pause. Minamimoto doesn’t look like he’s listening, and Neku nearly closes the window on him—let him sleep wherever then, like Neku gives a damn—but at the last moment he looks up, and his brow briefly furrows. “What, yoctogram?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to travel when it gets dark.” Cloud cover means no moon or stars; ruined city means no streetlamps… it’d be like the A-East mission from hell. Neku isn’t dealing with that shit, thanks. “The room has a rug. You can use it if you want.” Because hell yes is Neku taking that futon.

Minamimoto snorts and turns away, back to fussing with the trash. Neku hisses through his teeth, and slams the window shut. Whatever. He threw the dang olive branch; Neku’s work here is done. He’s tired. It’s been a long day, and all he wants to do is sleep.

He misses Shibuya.

He flops down on the futon and closes his eyes, and tries not to think of Shiki, or Beat, or even Joshua. He tries not to imagine what it would be like to be playing this Game with them, instead. What they would do. What they are doing now.

Shiki, he thinks—Shiki would hate this place. So devoid of color, and life, and just… anything Shiki’s ever loved. She’d despise it. Joshua too, he supposes. The lack of individuality—the lack of Music… they’re similar, in that way. It’s a weird thought, but it settles like a true thing: Joshua and Shiki would hate this place for the same reasons.

Beat… Beat wouldn’t have an opinion. He’d accept it, he’d move on, he’d adapt. He would want to keep searching after dark, maybe. He’d throw up a fist and declare there’s nothing that can stop them, not even the night. Neku would have to convince him otherwise.

He smiles at the thought. But it aches, too, somewhere deep in his chest. Neku squeezes his eyes shut. Stupid. And here I was, saying I wasn’t going to think about it.

They’ll be okay. Beat has Rhyme, and vice versa; they’re probably fine. Shiki has Eri. Joshua… well. Joshua.

Neku will be okay too. He doesn’t want to do this alone, but he can.

He can.

There’s a creak on the staircase; Neku opens his eyes and reaches for his pins, eyeing the door warily. It feels almost surreal to see Minamimoto walk in. Taboo-ified Reaper, grinning like a ghoul, slick backed wild hair and dust on his clothes, entering an apartment. It doesn’t fit his image. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person to use a door.

Minamimoto clicks his tongue when he sees the room, but all he says is, “Not bad, for a baseless binomial,” and then head for the far wall.

“You’re welcome,” Neku replies, sarcastic, and closes his eyes again, this time against the headache pounding behind his temple.

He hears Minamimoto settle by the wall, yawning loudly. There’s a beat of silence. Neku opens his eyes. “…Did you see anything past the wall?”

A scoff. “No.”

Yeah, he’d figured not. Worth a shot though. Neku rolls to his back and tucks his hands under his neck, staring up at the ceiling. “We’re not getting out,” he mutters, resigned. “We’ll have to… figure out what we can do here, I guess.”

Another bored noise. No response.

“Any suggestions?” Neku says, pointedly.

“You are zetta talkative today,” Minamimoto suggests back.

“I like having an idea of where to go.” And he’s partners with this guy whether he wants it or not. He doesn’t like it. He’s not sure he’ll ever like it. But Neku can at least make the effort.

“Tch, garbage,” Minamimoto says, sounding vaguely amused. “There’s no guidelines to this problem, Player. Different parameters. Different rules. Adjust or get deleted.”

“What are you—”

“Some numbers seem set on certain equations,” Minamimoto says, like it’s an insult. “Just because you miss the old Game doesn’t mean we can’t configure this one. You’ve got to conform to the equation, constant! Can’t force a formula that doesn’t make sense.”

Neku stills, feeling struck. “That’s— that’s not—” He sits up fast, fingers curling. His teeth grit. That’s not true. It’s not. Neku doesn’t belong in the Game, and he’s not having trouble adjusting, and he doesn’t miss it, he’s just—

But his mind is stuck on it—that moment fighting the Noise, the power singing through him, and Neku bites hard on the inside of his cheek and glares daggers at the walls.

“I am adjusting,” he says tightly. “If you would just—” No, no, that won’t work. They’ve already been through this. Neku takes another breath, and switches tracks. “Hey.”

A loud sigh. “What?”

“That thing you mentioned earlier, with— that guy.” Neku stares at the wall. “What’s Inversion?”

“Do the math.”

Asshole. “Look, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“It’s easy addition,” Minamimoto says, sort of scornfully. “Look around, yoctogram! The proof is all around you. The frequencies have been made null; it’s all broken equations now. That’s Inversion. When the math holding everything together breaks down.”

Neku frowns, trying to piece it together. “So the UG and RG…”

“It’s all fallen to zero. Ugh! Useless radian. 2 + 2 = 4. So zetta simple.”

Neku resists the urge to roll his eyes. He got an answer, at least. That’s something, isn’t it? It’s definitely more than he got earlier, even if it still doesn’t make complete sense to him.

My standards are dropping to the negatives, Neku thinks to himself, and then is a little horrified at his own almost-math joke. Cool, erasing that from his memory forever.

Still, if he’s understanding Minamimoto right, then… what, all the planes, UG and RG both, have just— crashed down on top of each other? That’s…

Neku leans back against the wall, hushed. His fingers curl into his arm. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he says quietly, half to himself. “How did this happen? This place…”

“Shinjuku.”

“What?” He turns around. “How the hell do you know that?”

Minamimoto scoffs at him. “More easy math. Didn’t you see the Gov building?”

“Wha—everything here is destroyed,” Neku snaps back, but his mind is whirling. Shinjuku. Damn it all, that fits too. Somewhere outside of Shibuya, where Coco was trying to lead them to… “Wait a minute. Shinjuku was fine this morning!”

Minamimoto yawns, looking bored again. “That was this morning.”

So, what—it just became a wasteland today? Neku leans back, stunned. Holy shit. Even Shades’ attempt at mind-controlling Shibuya had taken at least three weeks to set in. This is… he can hardly grasp it.

“How did this happen?” he says, honestly horrified now, and this time the silence stretches long. Neku looks over. He half expects Minamimoto to be asleep, but in the very last echoes of light Neku can see his eyes, staring out the window. Minamimoto is frowning. That sharp smile is nowhere in sight. And there is a furrow between his brows that seems, for a moment, almost troubled.

Neku waits. At last, Minamimoto looks away from the window, and stares down at the floor. He doesn’t meet Neku’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

He sure doesn’t sound happy to admit it, either. Neku looks away, and leans back against the futon, quiet once more.

“…Hey, binomial. Speaking of half-finished equations.”

Neku stares at the ceiling, and then turns his head, eyeing Minamimoto warily. “…What?”

“You keep losing track of the numbers,” Minamimoto says, and his eyes glint. “Zetta often, too.”

Neku considers him, parsing through that—realizes what he means, and stills, shoulders stiffening. The visions. The voice echoing through his head. He’d known Minamimoto had noticed, but…

“Didn’t think you gave a digit,” Neku says finally, dryly, and Minamimoto actually laughs, a sharp and bright sound that echoes a little in the empty air. It seems bizarrely genuine.

“I zetta don’t,” he says, grinning outright now. “But I despise working with incorrect formulas.” His smile widens. “Spell it out.”

Neku rolls his eyes, a second away from turning around and ignoring him outright, but just as he is opening his mouth to tell Minamimoto to shove it, common sense and memory rears its head. The echo of another partnership, weeks ago, the memories Neku didn’t have and how he kept quiet, kept it silent, all the way to the end of Day Two. How different things might have gone, if he’d just trusted Shiki sooner.

Neku closes his mouth. He makes a face. He thinks of Shiki, and sighs, and sits up properly on the futon, resting his elbow on his knee. “It’s…” He doesn’t even know where to begin. It feels ridiculous, to think this all started only a day ago. “There’s this voice… this girl, I think. I can hear her sometimes.”

Minamimoto looks blank. “Well,” he says. “That’s zetta fucking useless.”

Neku scowls at him. “I don’t mean… ugh, I don’t even know what you think I mean. But it’s not that. It’s like… she’s right there with me. I’ve never met her. I don’t know her—” He thinks of that flicker of a person, Shiki’s stitched pig in her hands, and swallows. “At least, I don’t think I do? But I can hear her, sometimes. As if she’s far away, and right there with me, all at the same time.”

Minamimoto seems bored, already distracted; Neku ignores him, lost in thought now. The more he speaks of it, the stranger it seems. “I think she’s from here. Maybe. She talks about… being lonely. And emptiness.” He feels a little ill. Static crackles in his ears like a scream. “She seems… really afraid.”

Whispers echo in his head. Neku looks down at his hands, and admits, “She hates the silence most of all.”

Minamimoto stills a little, at that. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and in the end he looks away, his eyes dark. They sit there together in the quiet. Neku keeps his eyes on his hands. Minamimoto stares out the window again, gaze distant, as if looking at nothing at all.

At last, he says, almost muttering it: “A null set of numbers. Absolute zero.”

Neku is too tired to think it through. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Minamimoto grimaces. He tears his eyes away from the window, and tilts back his head, looking up at the ceiling, avoiding Neku’s gaze. “…It zetta sucks.”

Neku pauses. Somehow it has never occurred to him that Minamimoto might miss the music of the city too; that this unnatural silence would unnerve him, or ache in him as it does with Neku. He turns his eyes away. He feels, for once, more tired than annoyed.

“Yeah,” Neku agrees, quietly. The silence. The twisted streets. The echo, her voice still resounding in his head— please, please, help me. It’s too much. It’s too quiet.

Absolute zero.

“It really does,” Neku says, and closes his eyes.

.

“I can’t believe you wanted to keep exploring in the dark!”

It’s long past evening, the sun set and the red faded from the horizon, and this isn’t the first time Eri has said this. Crouched down in a corner of their little shelter, the flashlight glow casting twisting shadows over everything, Beat sighs heavily and kicks hard at his skateboard, rolling it across the floor.

It’s not a big shelter; his board hits the wall and bounces back, and he catches it under his foot, rolling it beneath his heel. Then he kicks it towards the wall again, because damn, what else is he supposed to do?

“I still think we shoulda gone,” he mutters, glum. “We’re wastin’ daylight!”

“It’s pitch dark,” Eri hisses back, sounding exasperated.

“We’ve got a light.”

“One dumb flashlight against the city of dark and doom,” Eri mutters, and sinks against the wall. “No. No. I am not going out—there—when those things are—”

She fumbles, inhaling sharply, fingers clenched to fists by her sides. Beat winces at the memory—man, the lungs on her. His ears are still ringing. Though he can’t really blame her. First time Beat saw the Noise, he just about jumped out of his skin.

“Psh,” Beat says now, and waves it off. “The Noise won’t hurt us. We have those pins, remember?”

Eri thins her lips, looking about ready to argue—then slumps. “I still don’t get how that works,” she mutters, and Beat shrugs. He’s not going to be the one to explain it. “Well, still. It’s not a good idea.”

Beat grimaces, but lays off, kicking at the skateboard again. It grates at him, but hey, it’s Eri’s choice. She’s the one really panicking here, especially with Shiki… well.

And while it gnaws at him, while sitting still and waiting a whole eight hours for sunrise itches under his skin, deep down Beat has to admit she’s right. Neku would say the same, probably. What are you doing? Come on, use your head. Beat can almost hear him. It sort of aches.

So he doesn’t say anything. It’s not all bad, either; they’ve got this neatass little shelter in some empty hollow of a café stand, which, score! But it grates, even so. Man, they’ve barely even started! It took longer than Beat would have liked to get to Shinjuku by foot—unavoidable, given no trains were going through there anymore, some freaky UG power thing—and by the time they’d arrived, they’d only had about an hour before the sun started going down and Eri panicked.

At least they didn’t leave. Eri was thinking it; man, Beat could just see those wheels in her head turning. But she hadn’t said it, and he’s grateful for it. His parents will worry— are worrying, probably—but if Beat doesn’t answer his phone its for good reason, and he’ll apologize later. He just… he doesn’t want to leave. It took them this long just to get here, and… well, spending the night in a ruin isn’t the best thing ever. But it would be worse, Beat thinks, to leave.

They’ve made it. They’re here. Now Beat just has to wait until the sun comes up, and then…

Soon, Phones. Shiki. We’re on our way.

Still. He feels jittery. His limbs are all wound tight with a phantom pain; Beat grimaces, and digs his palm into his thigh, rubbing above his knee. Aw, hell. He should have guessed this would happen. It’s been happening on and off ever since the car accident-that-never-was, and it’s been building to a bad day for a while now, too. Of course its kicking his ass the moment he stops moving.

He leans against the wall, sighing, still rubbing at his leg. It’s seized up something terrible, stabbing pain like his bones are breaking, but with luck it’ll have eased off by morning.

Well, Beat thinks. Maybe it will. This shelter isn’t all that comfortable, and they’re going to wake up with a lot of aches tomorrow. Shit, he might even feel worse. But then, that’s okay. Hell, compared to his situation in the final week, this is downright cozy. What’s he got to worry about this week, besides the phantom aches? Threat of being eaten by Noise? Psh, done that. Beat’s chilling.

No more time limit on his life; Hanekoma promised to help look after Rhyme; and Beat isn’t even facing this dark alone. Eri’s here! Which, granted, he doesn’t know her all that well (or, uh, at all), and the girl doesn’t seem too fond of their group anyhow… but that’s fine too. It’s nice just having company.

Eri doesn’t look like she’s really appreciating it though. This whole time she’s been as jittery as Beat feels, pacing and sitting down and standing soon after. She taps her foot like she’s itching under her skin. Her hands fiddle with her skirt and her hat. More recently she’s started messing with the brass knuckles sitting heavy on her hand; she slides it off, slides it on, makes a fist and then repeats. Beat’s getting tired just watching her.

He considers her, and kicks his board again; this time when it rolls back he keeps it still under his heel. Eri doesn’t even notice. Her eyes are glazed, off in her own world. She’s gnawing her lip to shreds.

“Shiki’ll be okay, yo,” Beat says, out of nowhere, taking a shot in the dark. Eri jolts and then stills. “She’s badass, you know? Whatever plan she’s got, it’s probably a good one.”

“Badass,” Eri mutters, and then sighs, shoulders falling. She sits against the wall, drawing up her legs. The flashlight casts odd shadows; a quiet circle of yellow light on the ceiling and a soft glow all around them, barely reaching into the corner of the room. When Eri bows her head, it makes it hard to see her eyes. “How do you know?”

“Huh? Well, uh…”

“I’ve been meaning to ask. The Game, the Reapers, the… everything. All of it. You and—that coffee guy, I got the gist of that, I think, but…” Her hands tighten on her knees. “How did you meet Shiki? Really meet her, I mean. Not that stupid lie she probably told me.”

Beat scratches his head. “Er, that’s… uh, Shiki’ll probably wanna—”

“Shiki’s not answering her phone,” Eri says, a little coolly. Beat winces. Her fingers are white-knuckled around her knees. “I—look, I just—I just—”

There’s something about the look on her face that makes Beat look away. He makes a face at the wall and then sighs, pushing his beanie up away from his eyes. “Sure, yo,” he says quietly. “I can tell you. But it’s not— It’s…” He sighs. “It’s real complicated, yo.”

Eri doesn’t move. Beat shrugs, and goes back to kneading at his tense leg. “I met Shiki same time I met Phones,” he says. He’s unsure of how to say it—even more unsure of how to break the news gently—so he goes all in. “First week of the Game, about… man, I dunno. Two months ago, maybe? It’s been awhile, yo, my memory isn’t that good.”

Eri swallows. “I knew it,” she mutters. “She was—she was in the Game?”

“…Yeah.”

“She didn’t tell me,” Eri murmurs, quieter now. Beat shifts, uncomfortable, and winces when his leg jars; he gets the feeling Eri’s not really talking to him at all. “That w-whole month, I remember, she was avoiding me, she never answered… why didn’t she tell me? If she called—I could have—”

“Our phones didn’t work,” Beat explains, eager to help, but then he pauses. There’s something in Eri’s words that strike him as off, but he can’t pinpoint it, and something about Eri’s expression makes him wary of pushing. It’s probably fine, anyway. “And Shiki…”

He cuts himself off. “…Never mind.” That’s not his story to tell, and… Beat is pretty sure that’s one thing Shiki never wants Eri to know. Entry fees have always sucked ass, but Shiki’s especially…

“I always thought it was weird.” Eri’s voice is quiet, a little bitter; Beat blinks at her, feeling strangely out of his depth. “You guys just came out of the blue, and all her stories of how you guys met in class, it didn’t… and Neku, especially, it was like—” She stops again. Her head lowers.

“Oh, yeah.” Beat tilts his head back. “Phones and Shiki were partners.”

Eri looks up. “Um…” Pause. “I don’t really know what that means.”

“Oh, uh… like…” Beat gestures. “Like me and Phones, or even me and Rhyme, y’know? You’ve gotta trust your partner! With the fighting, and with the talking, worries and everything. Sharing the burden and stuff. It’s like a, a…” There’s a word for it, he knows—p-something—but the details are escaping him. “A promise! Yeah, like that.”

Eri presses her lips. “A promise.”

“Exactly!”

“…I don’t really get it, but okay.” She looks away, towards the darkened window, and a strange smile pulls at her lips. “Haha. This is, like, so weird. You know? Everything about this really is…” Her lips press. She ducks her head down behind her knees.

Beat looks away too. The flashlight flicker, the quiet roll of the skateboard wheels over the ground; the silence, deafening, right outside the walls. He closes his eyes and thinks about Rhyme, where they are or how they’re doing; tries even harder not to think about Phones. Sees the blood behind his eyelids. Hears the bang like an echo, ringing in his ears like the shriek of tires against the road, the dull thud before the end.

And all he says is, “We’ll find ‘em.”

Eri lifts her head. “Yeah,” she says. Her voice is hoarse. “We will.”

.

Sitting at the booth of what was probably a restaurant, once, before the Inversion, Shiki looks outside the windows and exhales, her breath fogging the glass. “Wow,” she says. “It’s gotten really dark.”

The restaurant is a small, ruined place; empty booths and empty shelves and windows blank and sheer. It’s creepy in the same way the whole city is, except maybe worse, because there’s enough definition left to recognize it as a restaurant—and so much missing it’s impossible not to notice how it’s been changed. At least the booth seats are soft.

It’s like living an apocalypse novel, Shiki thinks, and scrunches her face at the table. On the one minor bright side, at least she doesn’t need to eat? Though she’s not sure how that works, either. She’s still alive, just in the Game, so…

It’s too late at night to think about that, so instead Shiki closes her eyes and rests her head back against the seat. It really is dark. The only light is this strange, ghostly kind of glowing sphere Joshua summoned and then threw up above them maybe two hours ago; it’s as dim as a nightlight, and flickers like it has bad connection. It helps, a little, but… Shiki’s never liked nighttime, and here, with no moon or stars or anything, it’s almost worse.

Joshua is seated across from her, his hand resting on his cheek and one finger drawing patterns in the dust on the windows. Where Shiki watches the light, he turns and smiles at the shadows. “Surprising, isn’t it?” he says to her, almost light. “No end to the days at all. A full twenty-four hours… this Game really is something new.”

Shiki presses her lips, ill at ease with it. She fiddles with the end of her skirt, the soft fabric woven tight and warm, the cloth soothing beneath her restless fingertips. “I don’t get it,” she admits, and smooths her skirt flat, a nervous habit. “Why the long days? This doesn’t feel like the Game at all.”

“Hm. Who knows?” Joshua tilts his head. In the reflection of the glass, his eyes seem blurry and dim. “To disorient us? To tire us? Sleeping in a ruined city really will do murder on your back.” He snickers, then, as if he’s said something funny. Shiki frowns a little. “Awful, don’t you think? For former Players especially. All that time, waiting for the next day to begin… waiting for the blackout…”

“Oh.” Shiki’s fingers curl. “So this, too…”

“No missions,” Joshua murmurs. “No Reapers. No walls. Just… waiting. Until the end.”

There is something terribly cruel about it that Shiki doesn’t know how to put into words. She shivers, and says nothing.

“Yes,” Joshua replies, as if she’s spoken. “My thoughts exactly.” He sighs and leans back against his seat. “Either way, it’s working. Even I don’t really know what to expect from all this.” His eyes narrow, a little. He drags his finger through the dust on the window, a bold and stark line across the glass. “It’s getting a bit annoying.”

Shiki bites the inside of her cheek and looks away, picking up Mr. Mew just to have something in her hands. She smooths her fingers down his stitching and wishes for better thread. She has her needle, spare strands—of course she does, she always does—but for Mr. Mew, she needs better. It’s why she’s fighting with her clothes in the first place.

Still. Her fingers itch to fix something.

Joshua giggles. Shiki looks up, startled. He’s smiling at her again, small and smirking. “Bored?”

“N-no…” Bored, in a place like this? Discouraged, more like. She can’t understand how he can sit there, laughing like nothing is wrong; it’s like the whole awful situation has barely touched him at all. “Aren’t you worried?”

He tilts his head, looking bemused. “Who, me?”

“I mean…” She stops herself, and sighs. Even if he was worried, would he tell her? She doesn’t know him, and he doesn’t know her, either, even if he acts like he does. And given that she’d snapped at him only a few hours ago… “Never mind.” She frowns down at Mr. Mew. “You aren’t the easiest person to talk to, are you?”

“You’re just full of insults, aren’t you,” Joshua replies. “Apologies if I’ve been too preoccupied to chatter with you, Shiki. You need only give the word.”

Ugh, he did that on purpose. She fumbles. “No, that’s not what I…”

He’s smiling again. Shiki bites her lip and takes a deep breath. She is not going to hit him. She refuses to let him win, damn it all. “I’m sorry. That was rude. And I’m sorry for… well, I mean, I’m not sorry for what I said this afternoon, because I meant it—”

His smile has dropped, and Shiki rushes on before he can comment. “But I don’t want to fight! And I—I really don’t think you’re a bad person. I want to work together with you.” She offers a weak smile. Oh, she’s so bad at this. “So I guess, um, truce? Allies?”

He doesn’t move. Shiki looks down at Mr. Mew. “I just… can’t you be just a little nicer? I shouldn’t have insulted you, but… you say things sometimes. We’re partners, though. And if we’re here for all seven days…”

A pause. He’s quiet, just watching her, and Shiki falters again— and then firms. Her back straightens. She holds out her hand to him. “Please,” she says, quietly. “For Neku?”

There is a long stretch of silence. Joshua’s expression is a strange one; he leans back against the booth and crosses his arms, looking vaguely bothered. He turns away, frowns at the window, and then sighs heavily, as if put upon. “Oh, all right,” he mutters, and then turns to her. “Allies, was it?” He blows a strand of hair away from his eyes, and brushes it back behind his ear irritably. Then he reaches out and takes her hand. His palm is cold and dry.

Shiki pauses, startled. She hadn’t really thought he would… but he had, and for that she offers him a smile. “Oh! Um. Good.”

She takes her hand back, and then claps. Well, that was awkward. Time for a change in subject. “So! Okay. I’ve been thinking. We need to find Shinjuku’s… ‘place,’ right? What about the Tokyo Met building?”

“Wow. You’re taking this mystery seriously, aren’t you?” Joshua leans back, resting his chin in his hand. That strange melancholy is gone as if it had never been; now he just seems amused, edging into thoughtful. “Mm, maybe. They don’t tend to be in very obvious areas, though, you realize. Otherwise, Ten-Four would be Shibuya’s.”

“Oh…” Shiki leans back, fiddling with her glasses. “Golden Gai? We are heading in that direction…”

He shrugs. She sighs. This is harder than she thought it would be. How on earth had Neku figured it out last time?

…Oh, right. Joshua.

Shiki slumps in her seat.

“Either way,” Joshua says, after a pause. “We’ll head down the main road tomorrow. I’m interested in that moment of impact, you could say… the Reaper’s Skull in the sky.” He spins a strand of hair around his finger. “Who knows what we’ll find there?”

“Hopefully not a fight,” Shiki murmurs.

“Hmm. That’s a poor attitude. I’m relying on you after all, Miss Shiki.”

She laughs, a little. Miss. She’s never met someone who can be both rude and polite all at once. It’s a bit funny. “I mean… you don’t need to, do you? Aren’t you, like, all powerful or something?”

He giggles. “Well, that’s true. I am pretty powerful. But I don’t like working up a sweat.” Joshua shrugs, hands turning up and open to the air. “Besides, even I have flaws. So do keep up.”

Shiki is well aware of his flaws. The little smile on his face says he knows that, too. But in the spirit of getting along, she humors him. “Really? Like what?”

She means it as a joke, but Joshua hums. “Mm. Well, for one, I can’t jump.”

Shiki blanks for a moment. “Seriously?”

“Mm-hm.”

She considers this. “…Is it because you’re clumsy?”

Joshua blinks. Then he smiles. He turns his face away and hides it behind his hand, but she can see his shoulders shaking. “Wow.”

“What?”

“Just… no one’s ever tried to guess why before.”

Shiki’s getting the hang of this, though. “Or guessed right?” she tries.

He makes a face. But he doesn’t say she’s wrong, and for some reason that makes her laugh—for real, this time. “So that’s it,” she says, hiding her smile behind her hand. “You’re clumsy?”

“I don’t really think you’re one to talk.”

“I’m not! I just…” Her smile fades a little. She studies the table. “It’s funny. I feel like I know you a little better now.”

“Because you know I’m prone to tripping?” Joshua sounds bemused. “All right then.”

Because beyond just being Composer and all-powerful and Neku’s old partner, Joshua is becoming someone real to her. He is a boy who laughs a lot but rarely genuinely, who doesn’t give straight answers—who is snobby, and self-absorbed, and smug. Who has clever insights. Who likes mysteries. Who can’t jump.

She’s still angry at him. She still doesn’t forgive him. She never will. But Shiki leans back against the booth and thinks of Neku, week one, and finds that maybe she can do this after all. Maybe… maybe it can even be fun.

“Well, if there is a fight, I’ll do my best.” She clenches her fist. “I’ll rip them all to shreds!”

Joshua is grinning, wide and amused. Shiki frowns at him. “What?”

“So bloodthirsty. Where do you get it from?” He tugs at his hair again. He looks on the verge of laughter. “Okay. Have fun, Shiki.”

She pauses. “…You’d be helping too!”

“Well, maybe.”

“No, not maybe…!” Joshua is definitely laughing at her. Shiki crosses her arms. This is like Neku in those first few days all over again, but worse somehow. Joshua is doing this on purpose. “Ugh. Boys.”

“Not quite. But I get your point.” Joshua waves a hand through the air. “I was just joking, dear. Don’t take it so hard.”

But Shiki pauses, her thoughts derailed from the banter. Not quite? “Wait. What do you mean not… Oh!” Her eyes widen. “Are you like me?”

The moment she says it, she flushes, and wishes she could take it back. Oh, shoot, is that a good way to ask? Does he even know Shiki is trans? Wait, Composer. Wait, but maybe—

Joshua blinks at her, and then his grin gentles, something closer to a smile, almost half-way to genuine. “Mm, of sorts.”

And that answers that. “Oh,” she says.

“Yes. Well, not entirely the same experience, however. I don’t have any strong feelings about it one way or another.”

Shiki doesn’t entirely understand what he means—she has always felt strongly on who she is, from youth to now. But she nods anyway. “Ah, okay! But, um…”

She frowns a little, unsure of how to ask this. Joshua’s smile widens. “It doesn’t really matter,” he says, sounding amused. “I use the masculine pronoun because I like how it sounds, is all. It’s just words to me. I don’t connect to one gender or the other—or even neither—in any real regard.” He shrugs. “Don’t worry. You haven’t stepped on any toes.”

“I’m glad.” She draws up her knees. She still isn’t sure if she likes Joshua all that much, but that doesn’t mean she wants to hurt him, even if unintentionally. “I guess we have that in common, huh?”

“The younger Bito sibling, too. Should we make a club?” He leans back, and hides a yawn in his hand. “Anyway. Wherever Shinjuku’s Room of Reckoning might be, it’s a problem for the morning.” He holds out his hand, and that dim nightlight sphere sinks down in the air, resting just above his palm. “Anything else you want to bother me with? Because it’s getting dark, and honestly, I would like to get some sleep.”

“Oh. Oh! Right, sorry.” Shiki turns away, leaning her back against the booth, stretching out her legs. “Um… good night.”

“Wonderful.” Their light flickers and dims; Joshua cups it in his hands and then closes his fist quietly, and darkens it to a glow so soft it barely seems there at all, just enough to keep them out of the gloom.

The silence settles around them, not quite calm, not quite right. Shiki stares at the window, thinking on all that she’s learned, and everything she’s still waiting to discover. The quiet stretches. The darkness remains, eternal. She watches the glass and despite it all, can’t bring herself to close her eyes.

Is Neku out there, too? Is he sleeping in a ruin? Maybe he’s nearby, even. Maybe he’s closer than she knows.

She swallows hard. She hopes he’s doing okay. And oh god, Beat—she hopes he got home, that Rhyme is safe and sound with him. She hopes Eri found him. She hopes Eri isn’t… isn’t too upset with her.

Shiki owes her an explanation, probably. Definitely. She’s trying not to think about it. Where should Shiki even begin? She doesn’t want Eri to know she died. Or—or her entry fee, oh god, no. And everything that happened, Rhyme getting erased and the other Players, and…

It’s just easier, isn’t it? If Eri doesn’t know; if Shiki doesn’t tell her. They can be happy and laugh like nothing has changed, like nothing was ever wrong… and Shiki won’t have to think of that time from before, when she couldn’t meet Eri’s eyes, when she could hardly look at her work without hating how it never seemed to measure up. They’re happier now, aren’t they? Is it selfish to want to keep it that way?

…Probably. If Eri found Beat, then, definitely. Eri knows something is up. Eri knows something is wrong. Shiki is—Shiki is just going to have to deal with that.

Oh, she hates the dark. She always thinks too much, too loud. It’s so quiet that everything else feels like its echoing, and it makes all those little worries rise up louder and louder in the back of her head. Awful.

She takes a breath. She draws up her knees, and wraps her arms around her legs. “…Joshua?”

A pause. She hears him sigh. “Yes, Shiki?”

She keeps her eyes on the window. He sounds so calm, she thinks. So unbothered. It needles at her. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“This again? Really?”

For some reason that hits her sideways; heat flares up in her gut. Her hands clench, fingers digging into Mr. Mew. “Yes, really,” she says, sharper. “This place, this city, the silence. N-Neku. You keep… doesn’t it bother you at all?”

“Does it matter?” he replies. “Either way—”

“It matters to me.”

Silence.

“Yes, Shiki,” Joshua says, finally, flatly. She can just barely see him, sitting up straight now, the shadow of a frown on his face. “It bothers me. Happy?”

“You don’t have to snap at me.”

“And you don’t have to go starting a conversation every three seconds, and yet. Honestly, Shiki.” He crosses his arms. “You’re awfully chatty. Most people aren’t nearly so talkative with people they dislike, you know.”

“…I wouldn’t usually be.”

“Oh?” He still isn’t smiling. “Am I just special? How flattering.”

“No, it’s not that. I…” She looks away. Her own flare of irritation has died; now she just feels drained, and a little ashamed. He’d said he was tired, and she is bothering him anyway—snapping at him for nothing, almost the same way he snapped at her earlier today. “Sorry.”

“Hm.”

“Really, I am. It’s just… it’s really quiet here.”

“So you decided to yell at me.” He sounds annoyed. “Don’t people usually ignore others when they’re upset? Can we do that?”

For some reason that almost makes her smile. Shiki keeps her eyes on the window. “Funny,” she says quietly. “Sorry. You know, I… I was going to. From the beginning, actually. I thought I would…” She had taken the pact with the thought that she would ignore him, she would avoid him, she would do what was needed and nothing more. But…

She hasn’t really been doing that, has she? Instead she’s been arguing with him, and talking with him, making plans and ideas and getting ridiculously excited over mysteries. She doesn’t even know why. It just sort of happened that way.

And in the end Shiki rests her chin against her knees and says, “It’s just sad, isn’t it?” A beat. “I just get the feeling… that maybe we could have been friends.”

Another pause. Longer, this time. When Joshua finally replies, he no longer sounds irritated; his voice is low and muted. “I don’t see why that matters.”

Maybe it doesn’t. But Shiki looks out the window, quiet and worn and exhausted all at once, and despite it all, realizes she doesn’t feel as alone anymore. That in some strange way, in all the things they share and the ways they clash, Joshua being here with her makes braving this empty city a little easier.

She keeps her eyes on the window. “Joshua?”

He makes an annoyed noise. “What now?”

“…Do you think Neku is okay?”

He hesitates.

Shiki waits, but when he doesn’t answer, she looks back to him. He doesn’t meet her eyes. His head has turned away, back to the window. He is strangely silent.

He’s not smiling anymore. In this moment, Joshua seems tired too. There’s something quiet in him. Something pinched around the eyes.

“Well,” he says, softer than she expected. He taps his finger against the glass. “That is the question, isn’t it?”

It’s not really an answer. But there is understanding in it; the same uncertainty, the fearful wondering. So Shiki nods. She turns away, and says nothing more, and together they watch the midnight streets, waiting for the hour to turn.

.

.

.

And as midnight falls, on the very edge of that hollow city, a girl walks against the wind.

She is alone. She is all on her own. The last one left in all the world. Her eyes are empty and her hands close tight around a memory. She barely seems to move, each step slow and laboring, taking all of her strength. She wanders on into the night. She shivers in the cold. Her lips move soundlessly, as if aching to speak. Waiting to be heard. Waiting to be found.

She keeps walking. Step by careful step. And slowly, surely, the night moves on, and the second day dawns.

[thebword99]

Tips for Starting your Fitness Journey

As someone who has been working out on and off since July of this year, I’ve learned a couple of things and I would like to share some tips I’ve learned along the way. I’ve done lots of research by watching and following fitness influencers on YouTube and Instagram, I’ve made lots of mistakes, but the most important thing is as long as you keep trying and staying consistent, that’s all that matters. DISCLAIMER: I am NOT a professional in the field of fitness or nutrition. I have simply gathered generic information from the internet and have followed advice from others who have helped me get to where I want to be. These tips are some I have learned for myself, as well as taking some advice from fitness influencers I have come across my journey.

1. Don’t expect quick results

If you make the decision to become more active and fit, good! However, I’ve noticed a lot of people who start a fitness plan generally quit after two weeks because they aren’t getting results fast enough for their standards and expectations. I’m here to tell you my friends, it all depends on your body type. Usually most people won’t start to see results until at least a month or 6 weeks of consistent exercise and healthy eating. For some, it might take two weeks to see a difference, where as others it might take 6 months. In this case, patience is a virtue. You’re not going to get 6-pack abs the morning after your first workout session; changing the body takes time.

2. Carbs are not the bad guy

There’s this whole stigma around carbs in saying that they’re bad for the body and that you should try to avoid them at all costs, this is not the case! Carbs give you energy, it’s usually best to have carbs before a workout. Now, in saying that, you shouldn’t be eating so much carbs. The rule of thumb when eating a meal is that it should be 50% veggies and fruits (healthy fats), 25% protein and 25% carbs. Those three are your main macros, you should be calculating your macros depending on your calorie intake and your weight in order to get the most accurate results whether that’s trying to lean out or bulk up. I will link a video here so you can watch it if you want to learn more about macros.

3. You can’t target fat loss

I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s true; doing 500 crunches and a two-minute plank, will not give you abs. The key is to be consistently active for at least 15 minutes a day for 3-4 days a week as well as eating the proper nutrition; you know the saying “abs are made in the kitchen.” Switching up the routine is good for the body so you’re not doing the same exercises. For example, you could do cardio on Monday’s, full body shred on Tuesday’s, etc. and if you feel an exercise is too easy, intensify by adding some resistance bands or weights. Another thing to keep in mind, stomach fat is the hardest to get rid of, so don’t get discouraged.

4. Don’t compare your body to someone else’s

I’m very guilty of this, in the beginning of my journey, I would be following fitness influencers for the wrong reasons. Instead of following their guidelines for MY body, I would just copy what they’re doing and what they’re eating so I could look shredded like them, but like I said before, everyone is different. Someone could love weightlifting and someone else could not. I like cardio, someone could hate it. Listen to your own body and don’t compare your body to someone else’s. It’s certainly not healthy for your mental state if you just “wish” for your body to look like a certain fitness influencer. You don’t know what they’re doing to their photos, they could be photoshopping or face-tuning their photos. Focus on you and don’t compare to unrealistic pictures, or any body except your own.

5. Don’t care what other people think

People are going to have their opinions of you. Some will support you and some will attempt to put you down and say your goals are unreachable. But, the only person who can tell you that is yourself. Let the haters be your motivation and prove them wrong. Do your daily workout routines, stick to a healthy meal plan and focus on your goals and not anyone else’s. Your future self will thank you, and who knows? Maybe you’ll inspire someone.

6. Don’t be so hard on yourself

I’ve heard the same story about people punishing themselves of going to the gym and doing sprints on the treadmill or biking for hours just because they ate one burger at McDonald’s or they took an extra day off. Listen, it’s not the end of the world if you ate something unhealthy or took another rest day. It only becomes a problem if you make a routine out of it, but one day is not going to “erase” your progress. This is when most people quit their fitness journey’s because they think if they make one mistake, they can’t fix it or they won’t make any progress. But, if you keep being consistent, one burger and fries is not going to kill you. You’re going to mess up, and that’s okay.

7. Numbers don’t matter

One thing I’ve learned during my journey is that my body and weight fluctuate, it’s never the same numbers. Sometimes I wake up and I’m a string bean, other mornings I feel bloated like a balloon, especially when the red sea comes. Your weight isn’t just fat, it’s water weight and muscle mass and a bunch of other stuff that goes on inside that temple of yours. So, my advice would be to throw away the scale, and focus on your mental and physical health.

8. Food is to be enjoyed, but not too much

Rule of thumb is that you eat healthy foods 80% of the time and 20% you can eat whatever you want. The reason why this is the best tactic is because if you restrict yourself to just eating healthy for 100% of the time, your willpower is going to be drained and soon enough you’ll get tired of the same healthy foods and will want to binge. The 20% allows you to indulge on whatever you want but also keep in mind of portion control and don’t binge on the weekends.

9. Your mindset matters

What are you doing this for? What is your “why”? Why are you doing this and who are you doing it for? That last answer better be for you, don’t ever change your body for someone else. You should be working out because it’s a celebration for what your body can do, not a punishment for what you ate or because you took another rest day. Be kind to yourself, but also know when to push yourself. Balance is key, eat greens when your body needs it and dessert when your heart wants it. Take an extra day off if you’re feeling extra sore or a little under the weather, but push yourself to work out when you don’t want to. No one is going to change your body for you. Like nike says, just do it.

10. You’re beautiful 

Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. You don’t need to be skinny to be beautiful, the way you are built now, is absolutely stunning and amazing. Please remind yourself this everyday :)

Thank you for taking the time to read this, have a great day and be safe.

Write again soon!

-B

[sveasauvageon]

Ce qu'il a donné Un an, deux ans, cent ans de bonheur Puis la vie te cueille comme une fleur || GW

☾♔; March 5, 2018 ☾♔; sotd: Котик by Alexander Rybak   ☾♔; comedian otd: JOHN OLIVER   ☾♔; GW To do list ☾♔; {G} https://goo.gl/XSTtMc ☾♔; mod(s): @themadmonarchist @maybones et moi

Title: lyrics from "Requiem" by Alma

--featured not-mine oc's - Eloise Avery | @themadmonarchist - Minah Delacroix | @maybones (see what I did there with the Serena and Blair positioning? -eyebrow wriggle thing-)

- - - x - - -

Updated GW to-do list: - Division of labour (we should really start saying when one of us starts working on something because otherwise we'll end up with redundancies since we think disturbingly alike) - the "chuck" problem: okay, tbh, it's more of an Ed Westwick problem than a chuck one. I don't know how you guys have reacted to the me too and time's up movements, but mine has been to cut all those men out of my sphere of entertainment, I even cut out "witch hunt", "not all men" type dudes, and "only fondled their breasts on tv and apologized for it" men (aka Ben Affleck), because time is up for all of you! Soz, not point, but since last October, Ed Westwick has been caught up in this, and thus far 3 women have accused him of ra.pe and a fourth of sexual misconduct. Now, I know it's not Chuck's fault that his portrayer is a ra.pist (allegedly), but there is still an issue with including his face, etc in aesthetics and gossip girl material because his face is that of a ra.pist's (allegedly). Tbh, I wanna leave him (Ed Westwick) out of material and only discuss Chuck and avoid showing his face or use a dreamcast instead, but like, I dunno what you guys wanna do. Chuck is a great character, although, early on, he was quite rap.ey, the character, and it does not help that his portrayer has since been revealed to be a ra.pist. Allegedly.

- also, going back up to the redundancy issues, I love both of your aesthetic collections and playlists, so for those, I was thinking for playlist, we should make one big playlist on spotify that's collaborative, so that everyone can add their music and it'll kind of be a huge explosion of musical tastes. But also, maybe have a collection that has a link on the group info for individual playlists for characters, and the group made by us and/or others. For aesthetic collections, basically the same idea with one big collaborative collection, and then that collection will have links to other collections (yes, I'm a little ocd).

- also, also, this is completely unrelated, but I was watching trevor noah's show and he made a joke about how much trump's male employees snitch and gossip like sht, but the woman haven't revealed squat. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpmlVWFTW8A) It's really funny, and honestly, stupid people fcking up in trump's circle very publically is basically what's keeping me alive. It's just hilarious how stupid some of these people are. ___________________________ Another Update (I'll leave those up until @maybones weighs in on them)

I was working on a draft of the group description to show you guys, and I was using a template of one of my old groups and rewriting stuff and changing it to suit our purposes and I realized how many freaking rules I have (I'm so picky), anyway, some of this stuff obvs won't be applicable (like, there's one about characters dying and I don't think we were planning on going that dark. although, serena was an accessory and chuck kind of killed his dad, so meh, maybe?) anyway, I wanted your opinions on what rules to keep and/or change:

✠ RULES AND GUIDELINES {GENERAL} ✠

I. Please be kind to each other. Your characters can be total jerks, but let us, the creators and/or writers be kind, polite, and respectful (aka, channel your inner Canadian guys). There will be absolutely ZERO tolerance of discrimination. You will be immediately removed from the group, and your actions will be documented and reported. PM me immediately if someone harasses you or you notice harassment between members. ⠀⠀Ia. If you want to be anonymous, for any reason, you can send in your complaints here {https://goo.gl/kbTXeU}, it's a google form, and it doesn't ask you verify your email, and the username option, is just an option, it's not required. If I need to make further contact/information from you regarding your concern, I'll make a group announcement vaguely describing your issue, and you can send in further information anonymously again. I'll be checking the form at least once a week.  

⠀II. I'm not giving this any specific rating, however, I will say, you're free to include whatever "adult" content you want, whether it be swears, gore, or the dirty stuff (I'm totally a mature, grown up adult guys). However, do be careful of polyvore's stupid censors, use workarounds like writing your story in google docs, or accents for swear words.  

⠀III. This is a non-elimination group,  but characters can die. It may be used for inactive members, or if you wanna kill 'em off or maybe revive as a ghost or something else. Permission will always be asked of the creator first (with the exception of characters belonging to inactive members, whose characters may be killed off as penalty).  

⠀IV. If you miss 3 consecutive contests (without informing me), you'll receive an "x", "|" will be used to break up non-consecutively missed contests, anyway, if you miss 3 in a row, that will open your character to be killed by either myself or other group members. You will be notified, but your permission will not be asked. If you wish to rejoin at a later date, and you character has not been killed off, simply pm me and continue with whatever contest is in progress. If your character has been killed off, you can re-audition with a new one, and I will transfer your points to your new character.

⠀V. Always pm me, your vodka aunt mod, if you feel you'll be unable to enter a contest, your reason doesn't matter. Just let me know you can't get your entry in, that way you won't receive an "X".

⠀VI. Plotting will be left open throughout the group, however, please establish a few of these before contests begin, and always ask permission when using someone else's character(s) and be sure to tag them in your sets. Please, PLEASE work with others, I hate when people just do their own thing in oc battle groups, this is a collaborative story, everyone's stories and ideas matter. I will call you out if I notice something that contradicts the connected story, and I will always, ALWAYS incorporate the stories of group members into the overall narrative. ⠀⠀VIa. Narrative precedence will always be given to the person who completely finishes the description of their set first.

⠀VII. There is not a list of roles to pick from, you can create whatever roles you want, however, I may ask you to change it if I feel your character may become "villager number 6" and not fit in with the action. Rules, regulations, and suggestions for roles can be found here: [placeholder].

⠀VIII. Always be sure to tag the member's when you use their characters and give credit where credit is due.

⠀IX. Plagiarism will not be tolerated and you will be removed and reported. If you're inspired by someone else's work, credit them, otherwise you're stealing.

⠀X. Sets unrelated to the group will be removed.

⠀XI. You will NOT be required to write out a full story. Story portions can be answered in paragraphs, but full stories are always welcome and appreciated.  

⠀XII. Do not use templates for contest entries unless otherwise stated.

⠀XIII. Always feel free to contact me with any and all questions, and/or suggestions. You can also send them through the anonymous complaints form, found here: https://goo.gl/kbTXeU

_________________________________

✠ RULES AND REGULATIONS {FACECLAIMS} ✠

I'm quite picky about these, but I'm not gonna be pedantic about it this time. You do you. Having said that, there are still some rules and regulations, as well as a challenge.

⠀I. All faceclaims must be above the age of majority (that's 18+ nearly universally on the planet), there is an exception for child characters but all main OCs must be at least 18.

⠀II. All faceclaims MUST be professionals. They can be actors, models, even singers. However, they must be singers of some note signed onto a label company, like Taylor Swift, or my beloved Dima Bilan (who's also an actor. a good one. yes, I'm bragging). Your faceclaim CANNOT be someone insta-famous, youtubers, or tumblr tweens.

⠀III. Whilst I'm not going to reject any faceclaim on the pedantic basis of "I don't like them", there are some faceclaims that I will and for one reason, and one reason only. Sexual misconduct of any and all kinds. Hollywood and the media are finally cleaning house, and I don't want those dicks in my nerd sht either. To be clear, I don't care whether the misconduct was simply groping a woman's breasts on camera and apologizing about 10 years later, I am going to reject everyone who's been accused. Examples include; Ben Affleck, Casey Affleck, Ed Westwick, Jeffrey Tambor, Danny Masterson, Andy Dick, Dustin Hoffman, and fcking Mel Gibson. (Side note, these are just actors, for a wider list of men who have fallen since the Harvey Weinstein story broke in October 2017, I recommend you check out this article {https://goo.gl/Uq65Qv} by the NY Times) ⠀⠀IIIa. If you notice I have accepted someone who has been accused of sexual misconduct/harassment/assault please inform me right away, and ideally with a link to a news source from where you learned about (I will google it myself, but the ready-to-go link would be much appreciated.) ⠀⠀IIIb. Also, Alec Baldwin is on my list of rejected faceclaims. He's not been accused of anything, yet, but I'm not liking his defensive attitude of alleged rapists. Fúck off. Matt Damon also falls under subsection B, for a slightly different reason, but fúck him too. In this watershed moment, I have no time for defensive d i c k s and "not all men" a s s h o l e s.

⠀IV. The Challenge: a lot of us have certain fave fc's we use over and over again (I'm certainly guilty of that), so my challenge is for you to use a faceclaim you have never used before as your primary oc. This is gonna be based on the honour system, some of you guys I may know well, so I'll know if you're using your fave again, but others I may not, and I can't aggressively stalk everyone, so I won't call out anyone for not doing it. It's just a fun little challenge, worth 10 bonus points, if you opt to do it. But again, it's based on the honour system, I'm not gonna stalk anyone, but if I know you and you lie to me on the audition form. First, I'll be hurt, and second, I'll say sorry and tell you you're not getting those bonus points.

(I know, two sets of rules makes me such a di.ck, it's why I need your help guys!)

[nihilnovisubsole]

My fashion queen, incredibly important question: How would one go about figuring out fashion *style* for characters? I've noticed your OCs always have a Look(TM), and I've gathered from your blog (and fics) that you've got an eye for aestethics - please, could you give me advice at least where to *start*. I'm completely unaware of fashion and, frankly, completely overwhelmed at the prospect of just starting..

Ah! Previous Anon again - forgot to add a more specific question about fashion (I’m squeezing in 2 quesiton in one xD). Do you have fashion advice for sleek/distant female character’s clothing that doesn’t hinge on formal dresses? (as is discernable, I have literally NO idea what a Grown Ass, Self Respecting Woman would wear)

wow. that’s high praise. when i got this yesterday morning, i knew i wanted to give it the answer it deserved. this is over 1500 words long, so apologies to anyone on mobile, but i wasn’t letting go until i’d really sunk my teeth into it.

unfortunately, since you’re anon, i don’t know enough about your character to suggest anything specific. instead, i want to take a step back and see if we can solve the root of the problem - “where do i start?”

when i was a teenager, an english teacher told me this: “the biggest constraint in writing is no constraint at all.” when you have the whole spectrum of something - in this case, clothes - to pick from, it is overwhelming. the natural human instinct is to freeze up. so while it may sound strange, if you’re just starting out, you might feel better if you have some constraints to work within.

with that in mind, you can treat finding a ‘signature look’ for your character like solving a murder mystery. you eliminate all the suspects that don’t fit until you know enough to narrow it down to the one that does. that’s going to involve something else you’ll recognize from murder mysteries: you’re going to have to interrogate the character. open them up and get to know them - their background, their likes and dislikes, their quirks, the role they play in the world around them. every answer will give you clues and weed other things out, and eventually, you’ll get a box small enough that you feel comfortable working in it.

now, i love fashion, and i love using clothes to send messages about a character’s personality. so as someone who’s had that interest for my whole life, i work from the other end. the constraints happen, in large part, without me thinking about them. i tend to zoom right to a certain aesthetic or item of clothing, say, “okay, what outfit can i build with this,” and go from there. but since you’ve said you’re “unaware” of fashion and it’s intimidating to you, i’ll try to ease you in through a different route and see whether that helps.

so, if we’re going to pick your character apart, let’s think about some practical questions first:

what setting does your character live in?

if you’ve narrowed your setting down to a historical decade, you’ll find most of the style questions already - firmly! - answered for you. for example, a victorian woman would, by default, wear skirts. if the character is contemporary, you’ve got a lot more wiggle room. if you want to mess with historical fashion rules for symbolic or story purposes, awesome, but i think that’s probably more advanced than you’re looking for right now.

if the setting is fantasy or sci-fi, what’s its dominant aesthetic? is it cyberpunk? sleek ~apple~ sci-fi? or is it more like star wars? is it medieval fantasy? woodsy faerie fantasy? JRPG-style fantasy? you get the idea.

what does your character do?

speaks for itself. what’s their job?

what is your character like, just in general?

this is where everything you know about their personality goes. if they’re a fussy courtier who’s worried about their reputation and appearance, they’re probably not going to be comfortable in plain, casual clothes.

what can your character afford to wear?

again, speaks for itself. do they buy designer brands? are they trying their best with what they have? or are they super strapped for cash and just have to get the job done?

does their social scene have an easily-identifiable aesthetic that you could work with?

does your character wear urban/street fashion or preppy rich-kid clothes? are they part of a subculture that dresses in a certain way, like teddy boys? do they have the desire or freedom to go all-in with that style, or do they have to play it down, like being corporate goth?

do they need to wear something they could travel, do hard work, or fight in?

goes with the job question above. do they need some kind of outerwear or accessory where they can hide weapons? do they always need to be ready, or is it situational?

basically, where does the character’s aesthetic need to sit on a chart of form vs. function?

what do other characters who are similar to your character wear?

look at your favorite movies, games, and TV shows and see what professional designers are doing with characters like yours. what colors and cuts are they using? what other elements do they choose? do you like them? if you don’t like them, what would you change? sometimes you can learn more from what you hate than what you love.

hopefully, you’ve already culled a huge swath of fashion ideas that you Know You’re Not Going To Do. you may still not know what you do want to do, either! that’s fine. let’s move onto some more artsy questions:

are there any colors your character would prefer or avoid?

it sounds silly. it’s not. a limited color palette will go a long way toward making a character’s outfits look unified and purposeful. obviously, in real life, most people don’t restrict themselves as much as fictional characters do. but if you were a costume designer, you’d want to have some guideposts to work with.

are there any motifs you associate with your character?

animals, elements, religious or cultural symbols, plants - you can sneak all these into their clothes’ details. maybe their dress has beading in the shape of a peacock, or rose earrings, or icy sparkles, or a bear pelt for a cloak.

have fun with meanings! moon motifs for mysteriousness, poisonous flowers, etc. let your inner lit major out.

do you want your character to have a certain silhouette?

this may seem odd if you’re just going to be writing your character and not drawing them, but think about it anyway. do you want to emphasize that your character is tall? is everything they wear skintight? do they have a large, unique hat?

a great example of this is maleficent. not only does she have a horn-shaped headdress, her huge, flowing robe tells us there’s a much bigger power in her than her body would suggest.

is there a certain ethos you want their clothes to project? what, in their world, would do that? what in our world would do that?

let’s say you want your character to look very powerful, to the point where people would find their looks alone intimidating. should they wear sharp, simple, severe clothes, maybe in dark colors? or should they wear very embellished clothes, like royalty? what are your setting’s ideas about beauty? modesty? does your character play by the rules, or do you want them to stand out?

what colors, shapes, and styles appeal to you personally?

for all the time i’ve spent talking about restrictions and guidelines, it’s important not to lose the fun of it, either. use your favorite color! give them clothes you’d want to wear in real life! character style is a playground where you can let wish fulfillment run wild.

at any time, feel free to turn to google or wikipedia if you’re not sure how to answer one of these questions. if you see an interesting idea, pick it up and follow it - what you’re doing here is training your eye, and that’s how you’ll learn. that said, if you’re already intimidated, i wouldn’t dive too deep into couture/aesthetic blogs until i had a more solid grip on how i wanted the character to look. it comes back to what i said earlier - there is such a thing as too much to choose from, especially when you’re not sure what you should be looking for yet.

there’s one other thing i want to mention that can help bring a character’s wardrobe together: repetition. if you’re planning several outfits for a character instead of just one, echo some of the motifs, shapes, or colors from one to the next. they don’t all have to be identical takes on the same thing, but if they have certain traits in common, they’ll feel less like separate outfits and more like a matched set. they could all be in members of the same color family or have similar patterns on them. maybe your character has a certain accessory that they wear with everything. you get the idea.

while i may not be able to plan your character’s wardrobe outright, i hope this makes the whole process seem more straightforward. or that it gives you some ideas to work with, or any other kind of help you might take away from it. this post is getting unfathomably long, so i’ll wrap it up, but i’d be happy to put any of my own characters through a “question test” like this one if you’d like to see how it works in practice.

finally, if you can find an interview with an artist or costume designer who worked on something you like, those things are worth their weight in gold. i read an interview with colleen atwood when i was in middle school, and it revolutionized the way i thought about fashion and storytelling. and when i say “revolutionized,” i mean “i owe basically everything i just told you to that article.” dig into them and see how they think and talk about their art! they’re more qualified to teach you than i ever will be.

[hellph]

Hi Char! Whiteash, is a town like no other. Established in the 17th century, the town was forged in desperation. In order to protect the town from horrific events ever happening again, a council was formed. A representative from each species we chosen to sit on this council, watching over their species and protecting the town. We are starting out again and we would love an opinion!

Yo, what’s up! Alright so disclaimer, anything I say is just purely suggestions and my opinion so don’t take things to heart, my dudes! Tis below the cut!

Theme;

So for starters, theme is great, easy to navigate and I dig the colors ‘cause they’re not harsh on the eyes which is always a big plus for me. I’m not familiar with the theme code you’re using, but a small suggestion would be to use different shades of black just so it’s not all just...one block/full thing. Like maybe make the sidebar/description background a darker shade of black! Other than that, I dig the theme and finding the links to everything is easy af.

Plot;

I like a simple plot unlike most and that’s what y’all have. However, make sure you’re capitalizing names of towns/cities like Salem; The coven of witches was rivalled (should be rivaled ) only by the neighbouring village of salem (should be Salem ). And also go through everything with a fine comb to make sure no spelling errors are present; A representative from each species we (should be were ) chosen to sit on this council.. Again, proper capitalization is important; it (should be It ) has been recognised by Fae...

There are a few more grammatical errors in the plot, so I would suggest going through it again and make sure you catch everything! I would also include a summary as most RPG’s have those at the ending of their plots.

Rules/Guidelines;

Alright so I’m a big rule/guidelines kinda person and I’m gonna be honest, you guys are lacking in rules. There’s no mention of banned face claims, no mentioning of character age limit which is important as well, and given that you guys are a supernatural RPG, it’s also important to have an age limit on certain supernatural characters ie vampires and witches. So maybe adding something about those items would help give more of a rule page.

I would get rid of the somewhat hidden password. This isn’t indie RPing and even then people tend to be turned off by passwords. So ditch it and just trust that people have read the rules and will follow them to the best of their ability.

Sideblogs. They’re needed in an RPG so y’all got get over that and them being confusing. Either that or allow members to have multimuse blogs if they want to pick up all three characters. Only two real options to pick from my dudes.

Face Claim changes. This rule isn’t really needed or it can be simplified by just saying that people may change their character(s) face claim(s) maybe only once or twice and only after initialing interacting/threading has began. Other than that, you don’t need the bit on how this isn’t 2013 and some face claims have been deemed problematic, etc.

Picking up second characters/last rule really. “If you play an OC you will only be allowed to take up a second character, if that second character is a canon character.” I’ma be blunt, this is absolute bullshit. This isn’t 2013 anymore and even then shitting on original characters wasn’t cool back then either. So maybe don’t restrict those that choose to write only original characters as it’s a big ole dick move and don’t reflect all that great on you as admins/an RPG. All members should be allowed to pick up three characters if it is stated in your rules. It shouldn’t matter if they write an original character or not. Either everyone can pick up three characters or no one can.

Make a checklist so people know what to do, what tags to follow, etc. instead of including it in the rules because they’re not rules, not one bit. So a checklist would include these tags whiteashstart, whiteashfol, whiteashunfol, whiteashev, whiteashnotice as well as blogroll, maybe mentioning when/how long they have to post an intro, or respond to or make a starter. Those kinda of things.

Other pages;

The Council: Again with the password. Get rid of them all, guys. No one likes them, they turn people off from joining / wanting to even continue to read. Other than that, that’s all solid business, could maybe reword some stuff to make it flow better but eh. It’s all good.

Species Pages: Shifters are fine, maybe explain a little bit more about them like whether or not they can shift at will, on the full moon, or both. Vampires; make it clear that they’re using/borrowing True Blood’s vampire lore and also actually link people to the wiki page so they don’t have to google it themselves. Werewolves; y’all are using True Blood werewolf lore, so state that as well and link people up. Witch and fae pages are fine. Ghosts; explain their abilities if they really have any. And again, go through your pages and make sure you have correct grammar in place.

Application: Given that you are a supernatural RPG, you should have different apps for all the supernatural beings or an option in your current app for people to state whether or not they’re a supernatural being or human.

Wanted Face Claims: Make sure you have a title with the actors name when someone hovers over the icon as not most people know an actors name just by looking at their face. I would also suggest sticking to one icon for place holders as it’s confusing with all the different ones; makes you wonder if they’re such and such actor or not.

Last little notes;

I would change the “Posts” link to “Rules” as it’s better to have your rules included in the main links so that people aren’t having to go to the complete navigation to find them.

In your rules you guys mentioned para samples but are using the “appless rp” tag. So it would be best to go through your rules and revise them so that there isn’t any confusion on that front.

Seeing as the admins have mascots, I would mention that in the rules that those face claims are not to be used as to keep from confusing the admins posts with members characters.

Banned face claims list. I...banned face claims are meant to make sure people don’t use problematic fc’s or fc’s that people are uncomfortable with. The whole retried character thing doesn’t really warrant said fc’s to be on a banned list. Also claiming a lack of resources doesn’t warrant a ban either as most RPG’s are okay with members having a limited number of gif icons or going completely iconless. So, just some food for thought.

I would include all the links you have on your mobile navigation on your actual navigation as well. Because having two separate navigation’s is confusing and a sure fire way to have people mess up and be misinformed.

So yea, you guys got a lot of work to do and I would advise holding off on opening and accepting applications until you go through and make sure there are no spelling errors, correct words used, and everything else I’ve suggested if you so choose to take my advice. Once again, this was all just my opinion and I wish y’all luck!

[judas-had-a-crown]

Sooo. Though 8th November is almost over where I am, it’s still ma birthday today. 24 years, folks. I’m old as heck. XD 

For the first time, I think, I felt the urge to write more than simply throw in a gif of a birthday cake, scream HEY GUESS WHAT B*TCHES and leave it at that. I blame the wine I’m drinking right now. For anyone interested, I’ll put it under the cut. Have a lovely day or evening as well, either way :)

I might also feel this urge due to the fact that, in contrast to the blog I kept before this one, I actually plan to stay here a little while longer, since I’m content with the design – if you haven’t noticed yet, I might have grown to be a huge lover of site codes and color palettes to tinker with. I mostly have my fandoms and tags in order, unbound to any label I have yet escaped any huge discourse to wound my own character and pairing conceptions, and I even somewhat brought my writerblr blog to life as well. Should I actually get my butt up and post content on the regular there, it waits for me to take action which is kinda nice.

So, 24 years now. Hm. Since twelve is (one of) my favourite number(s), the double of it seems very pretty to look at, actually. Or, at least, 24 is prettier than 23 in my opinion.

I think to remember how 24 should be an age where people have figured out at least some basic guidelines and pathways in their life, or so I was once told. Who told it, I don’t remember, and maybe I wasn’t told, but I read it in some forgotten corner of the internet, as I do most things. Some small, fickle article or a single sentence. Let’s be honest, the brain is a silly bugger for that alone.

Well, I still don’t know what to do with my life, or myself, or if I as a person actually turned out worse this year than before as a whole. And that’s really okay. I got a whole life ahead of me. Wouldn’t it be boring to know already where I end up?

Then there are other questions to consider, their origin all the more obscure so I don’t even try to trace them back to their source.

Have I actually grown personally since my last birthday? You see, whenever I think my mind has settled for a constant personality trait, things happen and my sense of self, my thoughts and decisions are thrown back into opposite directions, scatter like pebbles on a beach. Often enough I’m neither resistant nor am I stable in my assumptions or reactions – I just do things and then I don’t and I couldn’t tell you why. So I don’t grow, I scatter. And that’s fine with me. The only constant, at times, is my love for certain passions, animals and, sometimes, people (big wow, in that regard. Yes, I’m trying to be funny here, let me).

Are there memorable memories to toast to? Well, I can’t say I remember much of this year in outrageous detail, but I still hold my glass up. There are times when I don’t recall February or August to have ever happened, then again I feel like more has happened in 2019 than it has the year before and the year before that. But even I know that is a pile of rubbish that my forgetful mind either makes up to annoy or protect me because every year has its events, its ups and downs, its wuthering heights and breakdowns. I do remember some events, sure, rather bad, rather good and rather mediocre. Things have happened that gave me shapes I didn’t know I could possess, and I still don’t know if these shapes suit me or if I have to saw them off before New Year’s Eve chimes in. We will see, I guess. We don’t exactly have the chance not to.

Have I made more friends than enemies? I strongly believe I have, in fact, done quite the contrary. But honestly? Some people really mean to be shit so I’m humble enough to announce that I wasn’t always the first to cast the first stone, but often the one that walked away. It isn’t wrong to choose self-protection over hypocrisy.

I then remember new people I met, and people I once knew, met again by intention or coincidence. And sometimes, these re-meetings were either fine for a while, but not bound to last, or like a wave that washes both your bodies ashore and you have nothing else to do than lie beside each other in the sand, talk, freeze and be content with the company.

The people I have now are good people, I think, few but good, with my understanding of being good also being corrupted by the fact that I’m deeply fond of them, and love, as the saying goes, not only turns blind, but also deaf for any criticism mentioned. I take it as such that I love them in my own way – one of many since we all know romantic love is not the only one of value. And that they, graciously, opt to tolerate me. Which, however, doesn’t exclude the undeniable truth that I can be and still am being a huge bitch at times and sometimes they are too and we have to deal with it on each side of the mirror. Well. Where would be the fun found otherwise?

Do I regret having cut people out my life? I’ve come to a point where I say no and mean it. I love the people I love and at times I still feel strongly for those I don’t or simply can’t anymore due to reasons that hurt me or made me feel unsafe. When I’m sad - especially, when I’m sad - I have no choice but to love either way, I guess, even if the subject of said love is a song, a book, an actor or a video game. Remember, hate drains the blood from your veins and the color off your flesh in the long run, so don’t get stuck on it like a habit. Don’t let it become your only confidant. It smiles merely to show teeth.

Am I meant to have reached a certain stage now? Be a complete person ? I still feel like a work in progress and slowly lose the belief that I’ll ever be finished. And maybe, frankly, I shouldn’t be. Completed works lack the opportunity of change and evolving measurements. It’s like you put a painting into a frame and hang it on your wall to stare it down for the rest of your life. I don’t want to be caught in a frame of any conception or rule. The thought of never being able to crawl out of it, to melt the colors while people stare at me, saying „This is her. This is all she’ll be. We have figured her out now.“ outright terrrifies me. So instead of awaiting someone else’s defintition with fright, I choose to live without definition – ever wavering between what I have been, what I could have been, what I masquerade as now and what I might become one day. A caterpillar of sorts – and a spiky one at that. For the aesthetic only, of course.

24, and I know nothing. 24, and I haven’t found a role to settle in yet. 24, and that’s quite alright. 24 still is an age where you’re allowed to be lost and free in your uncertainty.

Actually, you’re allowed this at any age. Happy birthday. For more to come.

[velvet-tread]

FUN TIME!! Let’s talk about content ownership,“hijacking” and that pesky arrow button at the bottom of your post

I am here to tell you that the terms of engagement on social media have not changed just because it suits someone for it to be so.

Let’s just get a couple of things straight about the content you produce on Tumblr.

You own it.  That’s right, that pithy little meme you drew up in a fit of giggles at 2am, that loooong serious meta you wrote instead of your essay – it’s all yours! And should Bloomsbury or Paramount decide that your Bellarke/X Files/Queer Eye cross-over fic warrants a book and movie deal then you get to keep the royalties. Think of me as you sip pina coladas in Malibu.

That’s because it’s your intellectual property, which Tumblr explicitly acknowledges in its t&cs.

Here’s the catch though: by uploading your intellectual content to Tumblr, you also license its use to Tumblr for anything connected with the functionality of the site, as well as for data mining for its advertisers. *shrug*

So, while you retain ownership of the intellectual property of your Pride and Prejudice/Pirates of the Caribbean edit, you implicitly grant Tumblr the right to use it for anything within certain parameters laid out in the terms of service.

And guess what? Within those parameters is the right of other users to transfer that content on to their blog and comment on it. That’s right, Tumblr, which you have granted a license of use for your content, in turn licenses the use of your content to other users.

So this means that whenever you post something to tumblr, you’re granting other people the right to put it on their blog with comments of their own.  All of which makes perfect sense given the role of social media as a public forum in which everyone has a right to speak and respond.

Importantly, once this right is invoked, your content no longer exists solely on your blog. When someone reblogs something you wrote, that particular copy of your intellectual property exists on their blog not yours, under licence.  And any comment they make on your post on their blog is their intellectual property, not yours and the same terms of licence apply to that.

The obvious caveat to this is blocking.  If you block someone, you deny them the right to interact with your posts.  This is because Tumblr assumes that if you’ve blocked someone, it’s because that person has violated the Community Guidelines on harassment or spamming, which revokes their rights to license your content.

But because Tumblr makes that assumption, there’s also a sacrifice to be made.  If you block someone, you lose them as a follower, you lose the ability to interact with them and, because they’ll likely block you back, you won’t be able to see or interact with their posts either. All of which, if someone is genuinely harassing you, you wouldn’t mind.

But if you’re in a place where you don’t want anyone to disagree with you via the reblogs then you face a tricky dilemma.  Do you block each and every person who disagrees with you via the reblogs? Hmmmm. Well, you can, but it’s not great Bob because Tumblr is a social media platform that is designed for interaction and if you go about blocking absolutely everyone you’re diminishing your own experience.

So, really, there are two options.  One is to switch to a platform that isn’t so geared towards the social aspects of content sharing. Wordpress, for example, allows you to blog to your heart’s content and moderate comments. That’s because Wordpress is a blogging platform, not a social media platform, and interaction isn’t built into the design in the same way.

The other option is to just….walk away. Even temporarily.  Especially if, for example, you’re being triggered or you’re finding it emotionally hard to deal with range of opinions – many of which often feel very personal.  It is incumbent upon us all to look out for ourselves, and you owe your followers on this site nothing at all.  You can go, take some time for self-care and maybe come back, if you feel like it. I have done it myself, and would 10/10 recommend.

But here is what cannot happen.  You cannot walk into a space that is specifically designed for discussion, start talking and set arbitrary limits (even if they’re framed as “boundaries”) on how people can respond to you. And however sincerely you feel the hurt that comes with those arbitrary limits being violated, enforcing them with a mixture of guilt-tripping and gaslighting is also the next level of not-okay. Those kinds of boundaries aren’t really boundaries at all, but a means of controlling other people and impeding their personal freedoms.

The one exception to this rule is, I think, when you have a specific area of discussion which you would like to remain unsullied. In that case, I think it’s fair to say: “I would like to talk about [x] and I’m not really interested in discussion so if you reblog just to argue at me don’t take it personally if I block you”. There are users who have received a lot of hate and harassment for their content who take this approach on each and every post on a specific topic, but even then it’s incumbent upon them to take responsibility for their own boundaries by a) stating them politely at the start of each post and b) just quietly blocking without drama if those boundaries are violated.  All of that = recognition that those boundaries are artificial, personal and the person who is setting them has to take responsibility for them.

Btw, “hijacking” is when someone’s words get twisted or the post gets turned into a discussion unrelated to the OP’s original comments. It’s not even inherently bad – it’s only bad when the tone is hostile. People are allowed to reblog and comment.  That’s what the site is DESIGNED FOR. Of course, we can and should always demand that people respond respectfully and politely, and if they don’t – block. But the very act of reblogging and commenting – even if it is to disagree – is not “hijacking”.

TL;DR – we own our content, but we relinquish the right to sole use of it when we upload it to this site.  If the social framing of tumblr doesn’t work for you - find something that’s a better fit. Don’t like the way someone interacts with you? Block, accept the consequences and move on. Let people speak. Let people interact with your content within the parameters of be well, be kind and don’t be a dick, because that’s why we’re here. 

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

Does dysphoria always mean that a person is transgender? For example, could a cis woman experience physical & social dysphoria, but still be a woman? I thought I was ftm for a few years, but being called a man felt off too. Then I started playing with genderqueer labels, but lately I've been wondering if I'm just a dysphoric cis woman. Is that a thing?

Lee says:

Identifying as trans is what makes someone trans. I actually recently read a book on gender dysphoria that said “Not everyone who is transgender experiences gender dysphoria, and not everyone who experiences gender dysphoria is transgender.”

Some cis people may experience dysphoria but not identify as trans, which seems to be more common with women and especially lesbians. Gay men also seem to have a higher rate of gender dysphoria than straight men, but they don’t seem to be able to be as open about it because of toxic masculinity.

A cis lesbian woman who got top surgery

The second question in this post is a cis gay man who wants bottom surgery

Is transitioning the only cure for gender dysphoria?

Can cis people have body dysphoria?

cisgender female who’d be happier without boobs

What are some examples of cis people experiencing gender dysphoria?

Cis With Dysphoria

Can cisgender people experience genital dysphoria?

Of course dysphoria is more commonly experienced by trans people than it is with cis people, and it’s experienced by many (and maybe even most) trans folk. But some trans people may not experience dysphoria, or label what they’re experiencing as dysphoria, so you don’t need dysphoria to be trans. 

Non-dysphoric trans people are still trans

More about non-dysphoric trans people

Non-dysphoric trans people

Gender euphoria

Do I have to have Dysphoria to be Trans?

I think it’s really invalidating and gatekeeper-y for someone to insist they know someone else’s gender better than they do.

If someone has questioned their gender and explored the trans community but ultimately decide that they’re cis but have dysphoria, who are we to say that’s invalid?

I think that it’s always best to believe someone when they state who they are, instead of trying to impose rules on their identity and claim they have to fit within certain guidelines to identity as either trans or cis.

If it isn’t okay to tell a trans person that they’re actually cis and in denial, it isn’t okay to tell cis people they’re actually trans and in denial.

So in the end, having dysphoria not having dysphoria doesn’t automatically make anyone trans or cis. Basically, yes, it’s possible to identify as a dysphoric cis woman or whatever makes you most comfortable.

Ren says:

There’s a lot of discussion about this (not all of it nice, or trans-inclusive). When it comes down to it, though, I’m not really sure that anybody can tell you what the answer is for you in particular.

A lot of people will say that it’s common for women to feel uncomfortable about their gender, because of misogyny, and also because a lot of womanhood is built on things that are inherently discomfiting (like sexualization and objectification). I can see where that argument is coming from, but I think it’s taking a lot of things for granted (like gender essentialism, i.e. the belief that gender is a static, unchangeable, unquestionable fact; a “universal female experience”, which simply does not exist; and the fact that being trans and otherwise queer can look and feel and be an infinite number of ways).

Generally, I would say that if your gender doesn’t feel right, it’s for a reason, and you should listen to that reason, and try to follow it. It sounds like that’s what you’ve been doing, which is great - but also that your journey thus far hasn’t been very fulfilling or productive for you, and it makes sense that it’s been a frustrating experience because of that.

Here is the advice I would offer. Let’s say that you can be a dysphoric cis woman. If that’s the case, what does being a cis woman mean to you? Likewise, what does your dysphoria mean to you? What are the changes you want to make in order to reduce that dysphoria, if any, and what do those changes mean to you?

A butch lesbian can consider herself a cis woman, experience dysphoria, and make changes to alleviate it - maybe the same changes that a genderqueer person or trans man would make. What would make that person trans is the decision to use the word.

If you find comfort and community and fulfillment in the word trans, then I would encourage you to keep exploring nonbinary identity - there is more out there than genderqueer. You may also consider looking into different ways that traditionally cis, but otherwise queer women experience gender: butch women, lesbians, and bi women have a rich history of expressing and understanding gender in very different ways from the traditional cis non-queer woman. It may be there that your journey takes you, and that is okay.

Here’s some resources that might give you some insight into other nonbinary identities and other queer gender experiences:

Non-binary resources

NB Flowchart

What am I?

Harper says:

I’m going to add on something a little contrary to your advice Ren, but I’d absolutely second the latter half of your advice: if a transgender embodiment is right for you, absolutely go ahead and embrace that, it is nothing to be ashamed of or shy away from if it is for you.

However, I’d absolutely say some cis women experience dysphoria, and I’d also say this is a point that can be made (and something that can be felt) without being gender essentialist at all.

Although dysphoria is often the grounding experience for a lot of trans people, and it is often the reason that many trans people seek medical assistance with their transitions.

However, if we’re going to talk about dysphoria, we need to first approach it from a wider approach. We are all living in the same world and so are subject to the same material and social forces. Each of these forces will impact us and affect us in different ways. These forces can be understood largely in terms of oppressive forces that systematically benefit the ruling class: rich, white, straight, cis men. In such a world, misogyny is a force that dictates which bodies are allowed to exist, and for what purpose.

I won’t make any rulings on what is and isn’t dysphoria, but an appreciation of dysphoria rooted in being non-consensually gendered (at birth: ”It’s a boy!”, “It’s a girl!”) can be a way forward. This notion always then reflects back onto constructions of gender that uphold cis heterosexuality: certain bodies are made to be girls, or women; and girls and women are aspects of a class that is made to always and only reflect back onto men for their advantage.

This is a violent and non-consensual state of affairs, and it is not one that will come with any comfort for anyone who doesn’t benefit from it: LGBT people, women, and so on. It doesn’t surprise me, at all, that a dysphoric experience can be attributed to an individual’s experiences within womanhood, and also to an individual’s experiences being otherwise gendered.

For example, as a trans lesbian, I experience dysphoria given the world’s instance that I should not be a woman (the “usual” dysphoria that comes with being trans). I also experience dysphoria when I dress in a way that makes me look “straight”. If I don’t dress in a way considered gay, or lesbian, etc., I get distressed, dysphoric. This latter dysphoria is completely within the axis of being a woman and the pressures that comes with to make myself available and centered around men: through the way I act and the way I dress.

I also know several cis women (admittedly all lesbians, so perhaps that limits the scope of my argument here), who experience dysphoria. Being cis doesn’t mean you can’t have a troubled relationship to gendered forces, and it doesn’t mean you can’t question them. It also doesn’t mean that you can’t, at any point, and for any reason, re-analyse your position to gender: to consider a transgender identity, or to re-consider your identification in sexuality.

I think, therefore, that the notion that “dysphoria means you’re trans” can be unhelpful; diverting women from a way of conceptualizing their profound discomfort to a world that aggressively sexualises and oppresses them. It can also divert attempts at solidarity within a community of trans and cis women, and between women and trans people as a whole. Dysphoria, and conversations about our lived experiences, can then be used to form a more cohesive (and less lonely) class appreciation of what it’s like to live under white heteropatriarchy.

In the meantime, see our dysphoria page, and the above links. Hope this helps somewhat!

[wrex-writes]

“Rules for writers”

If you have just started writing, you may have seen blog posts listing “rules for writers,” often written by literary agents who are tired of seeing their pet peeves in submitted manuscripts. You may also have seen other blog posts explaining why you shouldn’t pay attention to the first kind of blog post. You may be confused. Here’s my perspective on the matter.

The Problem With Writing Rules

These lists of “rules” usually contain the same basic ones. Caveat: I do not endorse these rules. In fact, skip this part if you don’t want to hear them. But just so you know the kind of list I’m talking about, they often go like this:

Avoid adverbs (and sometimes adjectives)

Avoid the verb “to be”

Avoid the passive voice

When you need a dialogue tag, only use “said”

Avoid verbs of thinking and feeling

Keep your sentences no longer than they need to be

Show, don’t tell

Write what you know

Etc.

These lists appeal to beginning writers because they offer a shortcut: they tell you how to write so you don't have to figure it out yourself. The problem with these rules is that you can’t apply them until you’ve had some experience. They’re very vague; they don’t mean anything substantive if you look at them closely. Okay, you’re supposed to avoid adverbs, but all writers will admit that sometimes you need one—so how do you recognize that situation when you encounter it? Ditto the passive voice, which can be powerful and downright necessary. Again, how will you know when you need it? As for “no sentences longer than they need to be”—a sentence may need to be long! How do you know how long is too long? And the worst one, “show, don’t tell,” is virtually useless, because “showing” often requires you to tell us something. You simply have no context for these rules if you haven’t written and read a lot already.

If you read your favorite authors, you’ll see them breaking these rules all the time. They developed their own taste and sense of good prose as they wrote more and looked closely at what other writers did, assembling their “rules” retrospectively. So if you’re starting out, it’s way more useful to ask, what do the writers you admire consistently do?

When writers make these lists of rules, they often apply them not as “rules,” per se, but as habits of thought that guide them. Rules can’t be followed in advance; writers just use them as psychological tools to keep them on track.

(Also, lists of rules by published authors are usually ironic. They know they’re only telling you how they write and what they like. You have to be a little bit arrogant to be a writer, honestly. Everyone thinks their taste is the best.)

How To Use Writing Rules Safely

For the writer who wants to grow, there is one way these rules can help:

Often, art students do exercises in which they must avoid one or several of the technical resources they rely on. For instance, they might be asked to draw without lifting their pencil from the page, or without looking at the page. They don’t have to follow this rule forever—it’s just an exercise. Writers can do similar exercises. You impose a restriction on yourself just to see what happens, to discover and strengthen writing muscles you didn’t know you had.

For instance, see this essay about V. S. Naipaul. Here’s a quote from Naipaul that the author of the essay seized upon:

...[W]hat had really helped was Naipaul’s telling an interviewer that in an effort to write clearly he had turned himself into a beginner: “It took a lot of work to do it. In the beginning I had to forget everything I had written by the age of 22. I abandoned everything and began to write like a child at school. Almost writing ‘the cat sat on the mat.’ I almost began like that.”

Naipaul didn’t establish a “rule,” he created an exercise that imposed an uncomfortable restriction on him. Also, he only followed one rule: write like a child. As his style evolved, he got away from “the cat sat on the mat,” but he kept that original guideline in mind. Eventually, he does offer a list of rules—use short sentences, avoid big words, keep your language concrete, etc.—but the last is the most important:

Every day, for six months at least, practice writing in this way. Small words; clear, concrete sentences. It may be awkward, but it’s training you in the use of language. It may even be getting rid of the bad language habits you picked up at the university. You may go beyond these rules after you have thoroughly understood and mastered them.

(You can ignore the “every day for six months” part. That’s just Naipaul being an obsessive asshole. He does think he’s the world’s greatest writer, after all.)

Chuck Palahniuk offers a similar example. He begins thus:

In six seconds, you’ll hate me.

But in six months, you’ll be a better writer.

From this point forward—at least for the next half year—you may not use “thought” verbs. These include: Thinks, Knows, Understands, Realizes, Believes, Wants, Remembers, Imagines, Desires, and a hundred others you love to use.

The list should also include: Loves and Hates.

And it should include: Is and Has, but we’ll get to those, later.

These look like rules. But notice he frames them not as rules but as an exercise. Just try not to use these kinds of verbs for a while and see what else you do instead, he’s saying. Writers often rely on certain kinds of words, so what if they took those away and forced themselves to find other solutions? He’s not saying you have to do this forever. It’s a strength-training exercise, like doing squats at the gym. If you read his writing, he does use thought verbs. Sparingly, maybe—that’s his idea of good writing, which is why he’s suggesting it to us—but certainly not as a rule.

Not all of these exercises will appeal to you. But if one does, you can try it in two different ways:

When you write your draft, don’t even think about this stuff. Just download your thoughts onto the page. Only apply the restriction when you rewrite. You can go one sentence a time, rewriting each one with your chosen restriction in mind.

You can try doing it straight out of the gate. This is a lot harder, and it won’t work for some people. You might try it briefly, and if it makes you clench up creatively, stop and try option #1 instead.

(Personally, I’ve found the “write like a child” guideline much easier to apply in a first draft than the “avoid thought verbs” one. Palahniuk’s exercise involves suppressing your initial thoughts and mentally translating your ideas into prose before you fully know what they are. That makes me seize up, so I only do it when I’m revising.)

So that’s my hot take on rules for writers. Don’t read these lists, read writers you like. And if you do try a rule, don’t treat it as a rule that can’t be broken, but as an experiment. Don’t let it limit you. Instead, see if it pushes you into new territory.

[wickedbananas]

Getting Real with Retail: An Agency’s Guide to Inspiring In-Store Excellence

Posted by MiriamEllis

No marketing agency staffer feels good when they see a retail client getting reviews like this on the web.

But we can find out why they’re happening, and if we’re going above-and-beyond in our work, we just might be able to catalyze turning things around if we’re committed to being honest with clients and have an actionable strategy for their in-store improvements.

In this post, I’ll highlight some advice from an internal letter at Tesla that I feel is highly applicable to the retail sector. I’d also like to help your agency combat the retail blues headlining the news these days with big brands downsizing, liquidating and closing up shop — I’m going to share a printable infographic with some statistics with you that are almost guaranteed to generate the client positivity so essential to making real change. And, for some further inspiration, I’d like to offer a couple of anecdotes involving an Igloo cooler, a monk, reindeer moss, and reviews.

The genuine pain of retail gone wrong: The elusive cooler, "Corporate," and the man who could hardly stand

“Hi there,” I greeted the staffer at the customer service counter of the big department store. “Where would I find a small cooler?”

“We don’t have any,” he mumbled.

“You don’t have any coolers? Like, an Igloo cooler to take on a picnic to keep things cold?”

“Maybe over there,” he waved his hand in unconcern.

And I stood there for a minute, expecting him to actually figure this out for me, maybe even guide me to the appropriate aisle, or ask a manager to assist my transaction, if necessary. But in his silence, I walked away.

“Hi there,” I tried with more specificity at the locally owned general store the next day. “Where would I find something like a small Igloo cooler to keep things cold on a picnic?”

“I don’t know,” the staffer replied.

“Oh…” I said, uncomfortably.

“It could be upstairs somewhere,” he hazarded, and left me to quest for the second floor, which appeared to be a possibly-non-code-compliant catch-all attic for random merchandise, where I applied to a second dimly illuminated employee who told me I should probably go downstairs and escalate my question to someone else.

And apparently escalation was necessary, for on the third try, a very tall man was able to lift his gaze to some coolers on a top shelf… within clear view of the checkout counter where the whole thing began.

Why do we all have experiences like this?

“Corporate tells us what to carry” is the almost defensive-sounding refrain I have now received from three employees at two different Whole Foods Markets when asking if they could special order items for me since the Amazon buyout.

Because, you know, before they were Amazon-Whole Foods, staffers would gladly offer to procure anything they didn’t have in stock. Now, if they stop carrying that Scandinavian vitamin D-3 made from the moss eaten by reindeer and I’ve got to have it because I don’t want the kind made by irradiating sheep wool, I’d have to special order an entire case of it to get my hands on a bottle. Because, you know, “Corporate.”

Why does the distance between corporate and customer make me feel like the store I’m standing in, and all of its employees, are powerless? Why am I, the customer, left feeling powerless?

So maybe my search for a cooler, my worries about access to reindeer moss, and the laughable customer service I’ve experienced don’t signal “genuine pain.” But this does:

This is genuine pain. When customer service is failing to the point that badly treated patrons are being further distressed by the sight of fellow shoppers meeting the same fate, the cause is likely built into company structure. And your marketing agency is looking at a bonafide reputation crisis that could presage things like lawsuits, impactful reputation damage, and even closure for your valuable clients.

When you encounter customer service disasters, it begs questions like:

Could no one in my situation access a list of current store inventory, or, barring that, seek out merchandise with me instead of risking the loss of a sale?

Could no one offer to let “corporate” know that I’m dissatisfied with a “customer service policy” that would require me to spend $225 to buy a whole case of vitamins? Why am I being treated like a warehouse instead of a person?

Could no one at the pharmacy see a man with a leg wound about to fall over, grab a folding chair for him, and keep him safe, instead of risking a lawsuit?

I think a “no” answer to all three questions proceeds from definite causes. And I think Tesla CEO, Elon Musk, had such causes in mind when he recently penned a letter to his own employees.

“It must be okay for people to talk directly and just make the right thing happen.”

“Communication should travel via the shortest path necessary to get the job done, not through the 'chain of command.' Any manager who attempts to enforce chain of command communication will soon find themselves working elsewhere. A major source of issues is poor communication between depts. The way to solve this is allow free flow of information between all levels. If, in order to get something done between depts, an individual contributor has to talk to their manager, who talks to a director, who talks to a VP, who talks to another VP, who talks to a director, who talks to a manager, who talks to someone doing the actual work, then super dumb things will happen. It must be ok for people to talk directly and just make the right thing happen. In general, always pick common sense as your guide. If following a 'company rule' is obviously ridiculous in a particular situation, such that it would make for a great Dilbert cartoon, then the rule should change.” - Elon Musk, CEO, Tesla

Let’s parlay this uncommon advice into retail. If it’s everyone’s job to access a free flow of information, use common sense, make the right thing happen, and change rules that don’t make sense, then:

Inventory is known by all store staff, and my cooler can be promptly located by any employee, rather than workers appearing helpless.

Employees have the power to push back and insist that, because customers still expect to be able to special order merchandise, a specific store location will maintain this service rather than disappoint consumers.

Pharmacists can recognize that patrons are often quite ill and can immediately place some chairs near the pharmacy counter, rather than close their eyes to suffering.

“But wait,” retailers may say. “How can I trust that an employee’s idea of ‘common sense’ is reliable?”

Let’s ask a monk for the answer.

“He took the time...”

I recently had the pleasure of listening to a talk given by a monk who was defining what it meant to be a good leader. He hearkened back to his young days, and to the man who was then the leader of his community.

“He was a busy man, but he took the time to get to know each of us one-on-one, and to be sure that we knew him. He set an example for me, and I watched him,” the monk explained.

Most monasteries function within a set of established rules, many of which are centuries old. You can think of these guidelines as a sort of policy. In certain communities, it’s perfectly acceptable that some of the members live apart as hermits most of the year, only breaking their meditative existence by checking in with the larger group on important holidays to share what they’ve been working on solo. In others, every hour has its appointed task, from prayer, to farming, to feeding people, to engaging in social activism.

The point is that everyone within a given community knows the basic guidelines, because at some point, they’ve been well-communicated. Beyond that, it is up to the individual to see whether they can happily live out their personal expression within the policy.

It’s a lot like retail can be, when done right. And it hinges on the question:

“Has culture been well-enough communicated to every employee so that he or she can act like the CEO of the company would in wide variety of circumstances?”

Or to put it another way, would Amazon owner Jeff Bezos be powerless to get me my vitamins?

The most accessible modern benchmark of good customer service — the online review — is what tells the public whether the CEO has “set the example.” Reviews tell whether time has been taken to acquaint every staffer with the business that employs them, preparing them to fit their own personal expression within the company’s vision of serving the public.

An employee who is able to recognize that an injured patron needs a seat while awaiting his prescription should be empowered to act immediately, knowing that the larger company supports treating people well. If poor training, burdensome chains of command, or failure to share brand culture are obstacles to common-sense personal initiative, the problem must be traced back to the CEO and corrected, starting from there.

And, of course, should a random staffer’s personal expression genuinely include an insurmountable disregard for other people, they can always be told it’s time to leave the monastery...

For marketing agencies, opportunity knocks

So your agency is auditing a valuable incoming client, and their negative reviews citing dirty premises, broken fixtures, food poisoning, slowness, rudeness, cluelessness, and lack of apparent concern make you say to yourself,

“Well, I was hoping we could clean up the bad data on the local business listings for this enterprise, but unless they clean up their customer service at 150 of their worst-rated locations, how much ROI are we really going to be able to deliver? What’s going on at these places?”

Let’s make no bones about this: Your honesty at this critical juncture could mean the difference between survival and closure for the brand.

You need to bring it home to the most senior level person you can reach in the organization that no amount of honest marketing can cover up poor customer service in the era of online reviews. If the brand has fallen to the level of the pharmacy I’ve cited, structural change is an absolute necessity. You can ask the tough questions, ask for an explanation of the bad reviews.

“But I’m just a digital marketer,” you may think. “I’m not in charge of whatever happens offline.”

Think again.

Headlines in retail land are horrid right now:

The mall crisis is secretly morphing into a full-on Armageddon - Business Insider

America’s ‘Retail Apocalypse’ Is Really Just Beginning - Bloomberg

Retail Wreck? Over 1,000 Stores Close in a Single Week - NBC

8 Companies Amazon is Killing - Investopedia

These major retailers have closed more than 5,000 stores in 2017 - Clark.com

If you were a retail brand C-suite and were swallowing these predictions of doom with your daily breakfast, wouldn’t you be looking for inspiration from anyone with genuine insight? And if a marketing agency should make it their business to confront the truth while also being the bearer of some better news, wouldn’t you be ready to listen?

What is the truth? That poor reviews are symptoms smart doctors can use for diagnosis of structural problems. What is the better news? The retail scenario is not nearly as dire as it may seem.

Why let hierarchy and traditional roles hold your agency back? Tesla wouldn’t. Why not roll up your sleeves and step into in-store? Organize and then translate the narrative negative reviews are telling about structural problems for the brand which have resulted in dangerously bad customer service. And then, be prepared to counter corporate inertia born of fear with some eye-opening statistics.

Print and share some good retail tidings

Print your own copy of this infographic to share with clients.

At Moz, we’re working with enterprises to get their basic location data into shape so that they are ready to win their share of the predicted $1.4 trillion in mobile-influenced local sales by 2021, and your agency can use these same numbers to combat indecision and apathy for your retail clients. Look at that second statistic again: 90% of purchases are still happening in physical stores. At Moz, we ask our customers if their data is ready for this. Your agency can ask its clients if their reputations are ready for this, if their employees have what they need to earn the brand’s piece of that 90% action. Great online data + great in-store service = table stakes for retail success.

While I won’t play down the unease that major brand retail closures is understandably causing, I hope I’ve given you the tools to fight the “retail disaster” narrative. 85% more mobile users are searching for things like “Where do I buy that reindeer moss vitamin D3?” than they were just 3 years ago. So long as retail staff is ready to deliver, I see no “apocalypse” here.

Investing time

So, your agency has put in the time to identify a reputation problem severe enough that it appears to be founded in structural deficiencies or policies. Perhaps you’ve used some ORM software to do review sentiment analysis to discover which of your client’s locations are hurting worst, or perhaps you’ve done an initial audit manually. You've communicated the bad news to the most senior-level person you can reach at the company, and you've also shared the statistics that make change seem very worthwhile, begging for a new commitment to in-store excellence. What happens next?

While there are going to be nuances specific to every brand, my bet is that the steps will look like this for most businesses:

C-suites need to invest time in creating a policy which a) abundantly communicates company culture, b) expresses trust in employee initiative, and c) dispenses with needless “chain of command” steps, while d) ensuring that every public facing staffer receives full and ongoing training. A recent study says 62% of new retail hires receive less than 10 hours of training. I’d call even these worrisome numbers optimistic. I worked at 5 retail jobs in my early youth. I’d estimate that I received no more than 1 hour of training at any of them.

Because a chain of command can’t realistically be completely dispensed with in a large organization, store managers must then be allowed the time to communicate the culture, encourage employees to use common sense, define what “common sense” does and doesn’t look like to the company, and, finally, offer essential training.

Employees at every level must be given the time to observe how happy or unhappy customers appear to be at their location, and they must be taught that their observations are of inestimable value to the brand. If an employee suggests a solution to a common consumer complaint, this should be recognized and rewarded.

Finally, customers must be given the time to air their grievances at the time of service, in-person, with accessible, responsive staff. The word “corporate” need never come into most of these conversations unless a major claim is involved. Given that it may cost as much as 7x more to replace an unhappy customer than to keep an existing one happy, employees should be empowered to do business graciously and resolve complaints, in most cases, without escalation.

Benjamin Franklin may or may not have said that “time is money.” While the adage rings true in business, reviews have taught me the flip side — that a lack of time equals less money. Every negative review that cites helpless employees and poor service sounds to my marketing ears like a pocketful of silver dollars rolling down a drain.

The monk says good leaders make the time to communicate culture one-on-one.

Tesla says rules should change if they’re ridiculous.

Chairs should be offered to sick people… where common sense is applied.

Reviews can read like this:

And digital marketers have never known a time quite like this to have the ear of retail, maybe stepping beyond traditional boundaries into the fray of the real world. Maybe making a fundamental difference.

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[burgundydahlia]

So I know you're supposed to show not tell, so how do you show feeling cagey, dissatisfied, and unfulfilled, purposeless? Like you want to do something, but you don't know what to do, so you are just left feeling antsy and unfulfilled?

Hi there @bluepoliceboxwitch! So, I want to start this off with the disclaimer that I am in no way, shape, or form an authority on writing. I am an avid reader, amateur writer (at best), and most importantly, a person who thinks that even within writing, most “rules” should be treated more as guidelines. Writing, like any art form, is a personal expression that is meant to make the consumer feel something and therefore, rules can, and should, be broken.

Okay! I think a few things to consider in reference to your question:

1) Where is the character? What are the physical surroundings? What are they doing in the moment? 

This is going to sound weird, but when I was in college, I was a theatre major who studied acting and we talked a lot about our physical business during scenes and monologues. It was important because it helped add interest to the moment as well as allowed for us to show through a physical action what our mental and emotional condition was. For example, if I’m a character who is in the middle of a spat with my boyfriend and I’m also folding laundry, I might start off making everything perfect and clean, but as we start really getting into it and I’m getting angrier and angrier, my actions might become sharper, rushed, and less tidy. I might start throwing around clothing, gripping a shirt in my hand, shaking as I move, etc. 

When I’m writing a scene, I try to keep that idea in mind as a means of helping me to write something that allows for me to show rather than explicitly tell. So, maybe instead of saying something like, She stormed out angrily, you break it down to show how the anger is affecting the character’s physical being as well as their physical business. So, maybe you’d change it to: 

She glared at him from across the room, her cheeks flushing and her heartbeat racing. Her body shook with barely contained rage and with a derisive huff, she spun on her heel, stomped across the room and stormed out the door, slamming it shut behind her. 

I wrote that pretty quickly, so apologies if it’s kinda shitty, but the point is that it shows a clearer picture of the character’s mental state when you paint a picture of how they are behaving rather than just saying how they feel.

2) In reference to your question about how to specifically show someone acting cagey, dissatisfied, etc, I would first consider what the circumstances are that lead them to feeling that way. Did something happen ahead of your scene that is causing them to feel this way? What was the inciting incident? Are they alone or surrounded by people? Are they in denial or spiraling?

In a really general sense, I would say that certain actions and behaviors can be  associated with a feeling. For example, if I was feeing really anxious and cagey, I’d probably start doing things like chewing my nails or bottom lip, pacing back and forth, tapping my foot rapidly, constantly fussing with my hair or a pen - that sort of thing. 

There are certain actions that can convey the same emotional impact of a feeling which readers will pick up on and those actions will help not only to paint a clearer and more vivid scene, but will also help set the mood as well as give the emotional impact you want, which can lead to a greater resonance with readers. Most people have felt nervous/anxious/cagey in some way or another, so if it were me, I would mostly try to think back on instances in my own life when I’ve felt that way and draw from that for inspiration.

The other thing to consider is who may or may not be around them at the moment they’re feeling this way. Are they are trying to hide how they’re feeling from others or are they alone and able to be more expressive? Maybe something happened and it was shocking and they feel blindsided, but they don’t want to show that to another character. They might still be acting shifty and nervous, but if asked about it, they lie or get defensive. Also, they could just be looking to straight up leave as quickly as possible.

3) Another thing to consider is what kind of person is your character? Are they a do-er and so their lack of action is not the norm? Or are they the kind of person who actively avoids things and this is just another in a long line of disappointments that has left them feeling unfulfilled? 

If I were writing about a character who was feeling restless and unsatisfied, depressed even, I would try to focus on two things: how does that affect their physical actions and how to does it affect their reactions to others around them.

I’m not sure if I was actually all that helpful, but as someone who constantly sometimes second guesses myself when it comes to my concerns that I’m not showing enough (or, sometimes, that I’m showing too much), I hope this maybe gives you some ideas if nothing else. 

Like I said before, so many rules within writing and most other art forms really should be treated as guidelines, in my humble opinion. If you’re happy with what you’re writing, try not to get caught up in the minutiae of what you should and shouldn’t be doing and try to just focus on writing the story you want to tell. Besides, that’s what beta readers, friendly internet folks, and the excruciating editing process is for!