#You have to ask the ancient question ‘what am I willing to put up with today’

[enneamage]

wow we read tommy really differently. i don't think he was genuinely worried he'd upset anyone at all. his actions never seem to go along with that, take the money issue tubbo bought up for example. if he wanted to make things okay he would have paid up the first, second, third time it came up in an argument but he never has

to me it's all manipulation. i don't think he's evil but a lot of people grow up using emotional manipulation as a fucked up coping mechanism for the shame. the shame of being called out and not being in control of how others are reacting. it's a form of immaturity and selfishness that is present in us all to a certain degree as children, he probably needs to grow out of it because being a celebrity so young has stunted him and kept some of his brattish entitled elements

he needs to feel powerful and in control and tubbo took that away from him so he took the control back in a way that "works" but is a bit toxic. the way he always spins situations around so that he's the one that needs to be apologised to is masterful and nothing ever changes in his behaviour to indicate he is genuinely ever sorry for the other person's feelings. it's very much about him and his own rsd and wanting to be placated that he's a "good person" therefore doesn't have to take responsibility for whatever he's done

I think we’re looking at two sides of the same coin. Up front I’ll say he twists things as well—I took this event in isolation because he was clearly freaking out but he wasn’t turning that energy into self-righteous anger in a serious way (this time.) I haven’t been following the debt thing so I’m not sure what the context or tone of that overall conversation is, but I can touch on the rest. It was the ‘cleanest’ example of him trying to people-please I’ve seen from him even if he did it in a dumbass way.

When Tommy is acting with The Audacity I can see why it would be hard to believe he’s afraid of anything but a big part of how I read Tommy is that he spends half the time moving towards things that freak him out so he can handle them, like a pre-conscious thing. It doesn’t make him humble when he’s ‘in a mood’, it just makes him act out. In the case of the fear of abandonment he gets up on peoples cases and bargains and pokes and gets in their business to try and prevent it because they can’t withdraw if he’s in their face.

I might be using a lot of woobie-words so I want to be clear that when I talk about how he freaks out easy I’m not implying that it should translate to other people being more sympathetic to him. He’s just a very interesting bug in a jar that has a lot going on and I want to try and explain why he acts up the way he does because it has an internal ‘logic’ that floats outside external ‘justice.’  

I agree that he needs to get out of his ego and be less afraid of being ‘the bad guy’ because ironically I think it would make him act like less of a jerk. Being more mindful instead of taking things/his own moral character for granted seems like a slow arc he’s on right now and it sucks to see the demons win, I just have to sit back and hope that “I think funny, I do funny, I am sanctified in this” youtuber brain doesn’t turn out to be terminal, even though it honestly might be. His need to turn things around to keep his sense of self safe really is a big problem (rip c!Tommy) but lately there’s been a bit of a tone shift from genuine self-righteousness to self-deprecating (still manipulative as you say, still a grab at sympathy/way to subvert shame) so the needle is moving… a bit. A tiny, tiny bit.

It's kind of a higher level conversation to talk about how fawning/begging/acts of desperation can be manipulative. It’s still relevant, just not what I would want to lead with as an introduction to a fawn response since there’s a lot of weight around the topic and I want to be able to link back to the post if it comes up for other people in the future (Wilbur does it, so does Q, probably a few others I can’t think of right now.)

It’s true—he freaks out, takes things and spins them around because he doesn’t like being out of control. It’s a bit of the fear of vulnerability that his ‘brother’ has, and it can come out just as shady when he lies down under someone else’s shoe and then scolds them for stepping on him. The other day it seemed like he was burning up from embarrassment / shame and using a bit of that, but he was mainly taking the fawny self-deprecating route because why is he talking about his dick being small again good lord—

[ghouljams]

Heya Ghoul... I have a question.

How do you tell if you've been like... affected by something? My ex practices Wiccan stuff and she is very obsessive and still texts my old number and like... yeah, I'm worried about her doing something. We were together roughly two years and she's still trying to contact me after a year of no contact and she's saying how like I'm her soulmate and stuff and I'm just... not into her at all anymore. Like she gave me emotional trauma and stuff, almost convinced me to move up to where she is (long distance, manipulative) and I'm not comfortable going out of state right now because that's a huge reset I don't want to do again...

Not to ramble here too much, I'm sorry if it's too weird or something so feel free to ignore this, but I really don't know who to ask in terms of the practice. I'm also not really sure how to bring up the topic of spells or hexes or whatever, I'm not trying to be dismissive in any way but it's like talking about just feels stifling and awkward. We (ex and I) never really talked about her practices and stuff, but sometimes she'd talk about a ritual she did or wanted to do, or spell jars she wanted to make... I never really learned how to talk about it, either, in general so maybe it just feels weird because it's foreign. I don't doubt it exists, but it's not something I understand very well.

I didn't intend to dump this on you but I did so in sorry about that. Thank you for reading, I hope you have a great day.

Hello hello you have come to the right witch.

First of all FUCK WICCA that shit is just magic stollen from other religions and closed practices, plus it was created by some random white dude in like the 80s so it's not even this deeply ancient practice that people think it is.

Anyway Wiccans also have this whole thing about "do no harm" but lemme tell you something, i am not Wiccan and I will do harm. So here's what you're gonna do.

We're going to start with a cleanse. I like doing a Limpia, since that's the most hands on and accessible.

You're gonna get an egg and rub that Thang all over your body. I mean all over, and try to focus on "cleaning" yourself off with it. Be careful not to break it but make sure you rub it over the top of your head, sole of your feet, stomach/heart/hands, you wanna get anything you think feels bad. Then we're gonna crack the egg into a glass of water.

Now you can read the egg and see if she's actually hexed you, but for your purposes it doesn't matter because even if she hasn't we're gonna throw some salt, ceyanne/chili powder/red pepper flakes, and some garlic into that water. Then you're gonna toss the whole thing down the toilet, close the lid and flush it.

Cleanse done.

Next your gonna take a jar or a bag and you're gonna put anything sharp that you have in your house and you're willing to get rid of into it. Nails, thorns, thumb tacks, needles, pins, toss it in there. If you're using a jar add some vinegar, if your using a bag don't. Then we're doing hot stuff again: chili powder, red pepper flakes, anything spicy goes in your ward. Add some salt. Spit in it. Write a warning on a piece of paper "anyone who sends harm my way will get it back 3 fold" and shove it in there. Then bury that thing. Preferably you do this at the edge of your property but if you can't bury anything out it over your door.

Done.

Other witches get real fancy with their wards but I'm lazy and most people don't have a ton of fancy witchcraft stuff, so we work with what we've got.

Otherwise. Idk magic isn't real, the worst she can do is just like keep trying to contact you and being annoying. She'll get bored eventually and move on to tormenting someone else, but if she does send anything your way or you feel like you're not acting like yourself, do a cleanse.

[lbulldesigns]

My Jinx and Sevika Season 2 Theory.

So before the season 2 trailer dropped, we got this picture from Sevika's VA.

Which was our first look at Sevika for season 2. However, Sevika looks wildly different from what we see in the trailer; so the question is, how does Sevika get from this...

To this?

Get comfy this is gonna be a long one.

So from what we perceive from the trailer, there is a possibility of Sevika and Jinx teaming up, this is mainly theorized because Sevika used both Jinx's pistol and has an augmented arm clearly designed by her. I believe that their teaming up is a high possibility because Sevika has always put her bet behind the winning horse.

She used to be loyal to Vander, I'm guessing when he was still the Hound of The Underground and had a righteous anger towards Piltover, but lost faith in him when he became complacent with the Enforcer's mistreatment.

She then teams up with Silco, and even sacrifices an arm for him because he was showing more initiative and actually acting out on his promise to liberate Zaun from Piltover.

And even though we see her continuing to be loyal to Silco, there are hints of discontent with her in some of his decisions. Mainly his inability to see Jinx as a liability and continuing to place her on a high pedestal.

We are led to believe that she has an undying loyalty to Silco because she turns down Finn's offer and willingly kills him, but when Silco asks if she was tempted she says "Not for a worm like him. But he won't be the last".

Many people translate this as her being loyal to Silco but what she's really saying is that she's loyal to him as long as he's willing to follow through on his promise to free Zaun.

So I'm inclined to believe that she won't hold Silco's death against Jinx, she'll be angry of course however once she sees Jinx is not just willing to go to war but lead the march, she'll put her bet behind the winning horse once again.

As much as she views Jinx as a liability, she also knows her strengths and her abilities. I am fully under the belief that Sevika doesn't hate Jinx, she's just frustrated with her as she can see Jinx as a troubled teenage girl who has a severe mental illness. She doesn't treat Jinx with kiddie gloves, she's honest with her and harsh; which doesn't make her Jinx's favorite person but out of everyone in her life Sevika is the only one who is brutally honest with her, and someone like Jinx who despises liars, Sevika's honesty (even if she doesn't want to hear it a lot of the time) is a constant that Jinx can appreciate.

This breeds credence to the theory that the two will team up in season 2.

Another thing noticed and speculated in the trailer is that the two are fighting against someone in an ally way, however, I have to disagree about the location of said fight.

We know that Jinx and Vi's fight is going to be in the ruins of an ancient-looking temple, considering Zaun's history of being colonized by ancient Shurimans, I believe that this temple is a relic from the Shurimans and fully believe that it's a temple dedicated to Janna.

The temple is full of fog, you can see it moving around during the fight between the sisters, and we see Sevika emerge from it like a badass with Jinx's pistol raised.

Now this is where my theory finally comes in.

During Jinx and Vi's fight, Caitlyn (who is hiding amongst the pillars hidden in the shadow and fog) gets caught, yet again, in one of Jinx's bombs. But I believe that Jinx purposely designed these bombs to be non-lethal, she may be furious with Vi but she doesn't want to kill her. Something in Caitlyn will snap and she'll abandon the notion of bringing Jinx in alive will give into her want for vengeance, and will shoot to kill Jinx. Just as she shoots at Jinx, Sevika will shoot at Caitlyn. Vi will see Caitlyn in danger and rush to protect her, and Jinx will be distracted and not see Caitlyn's bullet until it's too late.

Whilst Sevika is fighting off the Enforcers trying to get to Jinx and Vi is worrying over Caitlyn, Jinx will be lying there dying.

This is where it gets maybe a little far-fetched, but bear with me.

Janna, in the Star Guardians universe, recruits Jinx because she sees good in Jinx and wants to give her a chance to be a hero and protector. In Arcane I reckon Janna has been an invisible spectator for however long watching her people slowly die over the years, she doesn't have the strength to help them because people have stopped praying to her.

There's a significant reason why the producers have the sisters fight in this location, and I theorize that the reason is that this is how they plan to introduce a new region to Arcane.

So as Jinx lies dying, going over everything in her life and maybe she wishes that she could've freed Zaun that she could have another chance to complete her mission, and Janna hears her wish.

And drawing power from the multiple hex gems in her vacinity, uses all her strength to teleport Jinx away. Sevika seeing that something is happening to Jinx jumps in to save her, much like what she did with Silco at the cannery; and both of them get yeeted away from the scene.

All Vi and the rest of the Enforcers will see is that another explosion went off and both Jinx and Sevika were just obliterated. Vi will see her sister's blood on the ground and realize that Cailtyn shot her sister and the weight of what just happened would come crashing down on her and she'll walk away from everything.

I know this all sounds like a stretch, but my main motivation for thinking about all this is what Sevika is wearing in the picture at the start of this essay.

She's wearing her signature Ponto, but the design of it looks like something worn in a desert environment; her clothes look Shuriman, the spikes on her right shoulder look like Shuriman accessories and the way she wears her hair looks like she's trying to shield as much as her face as she can from the hot sun.

I don't know where the theory will go from here, but I think Jinx will get the healing she needs in Shurima and both of them will find allies before heading back to their home to liberate it.

This would have a role reversal for the sisters, with Vi being the one struggling to find her footing and crashing hard whilst hallucinating her loved ones as demons; and Jinx will be the returning daughter to a new Zaun but unlike Vi will be anticipating this change and will have a clearer goal, and zero inclination to look for her sister.

Sorry this was so long, but I had to get this brain rot out of my head.

[endrinstone]

Since it looks like ivory's streams are gone now, I compiled a list of all of her Showtime SMP streams, so that there's at least some record of their existence. I provided links (in blue) to alternative povs of the events, if any exist for the given day, and included brief descriptions of what happened. In parentheses are the titles and links of the now deleted streams. Enjoy!

All dates are in 2023.

9. 6. ivory's video. Gets gear, and a horse named Lewidor. Not in character. The video Becoming a Minecraft Dictator is a summary of the first few days, with kinda a more self-aware, comedic take on it. (Title: its showtime.)

10. 6. Zolister. Announces her Watchkeeper reign, then talks about morals with Vi and chat. (Title: ivory makes an announcement)

12. 6. ivory's video. Hunts down her first person, Rylan. The video Hunting Minecraft’s Most Elusive Player sums it up very well. (Title: showtime smp)

13.6. None. Makes a grave for her horse Lewidor with Vi. Vi then shows her his therapy office. (Title: lewidor's funeral)

22. 6. Vi. Gets introduced to kantje and Effy. Kills Cupid, then Mugm in an arena duel, then Rylan. Then hangs out with Vi. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP)

25. 6. None. Builds a drowned farm (with Vi and Loppezz, if I remember correctly), and kills Tidus in a very drawn out battle. (Title: happy tuesday.)

28. 6. Nebula. Killing Strobe, which she felt really bad for. (Title: i love murder.)

2. 7. Nebula. Killing Nebula. (Title: i am normal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

4. 7. Zolister and Vi. Gets hunted down by a group of people. The bit where she gets hunted is gone now though. (Title: frog)

5. 7.  None. Family roadtrip with Vi, Zolister and Rasplin. Ends with Vi trying (and succeeding) to prevent the other three from killing each other. (Title: SNOG)

9. 7.  kantje. Casino opening day, she threatens the owners after they put her kill list up for auction. (Title: shoe time)

16. 7. Vi and Zolister and kantje. The petition against ivory's regime. She refuses to step down, and gets killed repeatedly. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP SUNDAY and the n NIERAUTOMAA) 

17. 7.  None. VN43 makes a deal with her: he will provide her with resources, and in exchange she will give him some power if she wins the election. Both are very willing to betray each other. (Title: nothing - showtime smp AND THEN OMORI)

21. 7. Vi. Talks with Vi, looks for a location for a new base, briefly talks with Win, Trashy, and Divy. (Title: showtime smp - WAHOO)

23. 7. None. Looking for a potential base location and grinding. She (half by accident, half on purpose) finds someone’s secret base. Not in character. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP)

26. 7. None. Just grinding for resources. Not in character. (Title: showtime smp CHILLING. NO MURDER.)

6. 8. Zolister. Gets told about The Silencers by kantje, kills Zolister, tears down her house. She starts "glitching out", reminiscent of the I Killed God video. Alluded/talked to Ebony (clarification). (Title: showtime smp sunday)

7. 8. None. Renovating an ancient city, getting rid of the shriekers. Not in character. (Title: im going to kil)

9. 8. None. Hangs out with CherryNyx, who asks her questions about humanity. Then works on her base. (Title: im)

13. 8. None. Building an iron farm in her base. Not in character. (Title: gorgle)

18. 8. Vi. The election. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP ELECTION)

Bonus: ivory didn’t stream these, but they are relevant. If you have more of these, let me know.

23. 6. Vi: Vi and ivory hang out, and discuss ivory's mental state.

20. 8. Win/Boba/ Vi: ivory’s goodbye letter.

28. 10. Vi: (Unborn Solipsism) has a scene where ivory tells Vi goodbye.

Bonus two: these ivory streams were not actually on Showtime, but were related. Not super useful information, but here you go.

30. 6. gug. Analysing her video Becoming a Minecraft Dictator.

13. 7. WEEE. Analysing her video Hunting Minecraft’s Most Elusive Player.

18. 7. showtime smp reading stream (then drawing). Reading Showtime SMP fanfics.

31. 7. showtime smp base planning. In a creative world, planning out the design of her ancient city base.

[gallusrostromegalus]

So far I count 3 ranking shinigami who didn't start off human (Gin, Komamura, Kenpachi). How common is this? (I'm guessing sort of rare, because if it was common more people would be clocking Gin as nonhuman rather than the creepiest human in the room) And are Komamura's (and his adopted parent's) attempts at hiding it normal for nonhumans? Wait - is *Yoruichi* 100% human?

Its a lot more common in AEIWAM than in canon, and Komamura is in for more than a few surprises once his helmet comes off.

****

"Um. Komamura-Taicho?" A small voice asked from the door.

Sajin looked up- it was early in the afternoon, and the paperwork had slowed down for the first time since Tousen-

-Since the Ryoka incident some three weeks ago. Peering around the doorway was one of the newer recruits to the Seventh Division-

"Miss Fubuki?" He asked. It was a point of pride to have the name of every member of his division memorized within a month of their recruitment, and she had been here some years.

"Yessir!" she snapped to attention, stepping into the doorway. She was a darling thing, with large blue eyes and white hair befitting her name. "Er, Sorry to interrupt, but, um-" She fidgeted with the clipboard she was holding.

"It's alright." he said, putting his pen down and sitting up a bit to face her. "Despite recent changes to my appearance, I do not bite."

She blinked at him for a moment, then grinned, relieved. "My apologies sir- I- I don't think you ever *would*, sir. Captain Zaraki, perhaps but- sorry, that was very rude of me."

"No, he absolutely does, but I believe he considers it a sign of affection." Sajin nodded, and she giggled. "What was it you needed?"

"Well, ah. It is about your um-" she gestured at her own face. "-Lieutenant Hisagi asked for help with this month's newsletter and I- well, I thought lots of people would have questions about you, and I actually couldn't find much about the history or legal standing of... non-human people? in the archives, so, if it's not too invasive, um. Would you be willing to do an interview, of sorts? Less about yourself, really, so much as um. People like you?" She babbled, not quite looking at him, but holding her ground. She was nervous but she seemed more awkward than frightened. A good sign, perhaps?

He considered this for a moment, looking at the clock on his desk. "How long would this take?" he frowned.

"Oh! Um, well, I wrote up like, 20 questions- you don't have to answer all of them, but I figured that would be enough, and- well, I've never actually interviewed anyone before." She considered. "Not more than half an hour, probably?"

"Yes, I think I have the time. I need to be at an appointment at 3:30, but no pressing matters before then." he nodded, gesturing for her to take a seat opposite his desk.

"Oh! thank you sir!" She beamed and sat down, a cool breeze floating through the door after her and Sajin hand to slap down a paper that attempted to flutter off his desk. "Ah- early fall breezes." She nodded.

"Autumn can't come soon enough. Summer is difficult when you wear a fur coat you can't take off." he sighed.

Fubuki looked up at him, then quickly jotted it down on her notepad.

"You have excellent shorthand." he noted.

"Oh! Thank you! I learned it when I was working up North with the central 46's survey team." She smiled. "Um, well, first question, which- well, I know it's not strictly my business, or anyone else's for that matter but, ah- What ARE you, actually?"

"I believe there are a great many introductory primers on different types of animal in the Seiretei library, mostly in the children's section." Sajin teased and Fubuki giggled. "But I understand. There are a great many rumors and some clarification may be in order. I am from a very ancient clan of Beastfolk from the mountains of the east 80th district. There are many types of Beastfolk, but all share some combination of human and animal anatomical features, along with the intellect of men, or better."

"-and your family is.. dogs?" Fubuki asked.

"Wolves." He corrected, and watched her cross out a word and replace it with decided firmness. "Thank you for comprehending the difference."

"I ah, grew up in... not-people wolf country." She nodded. "That does make me extremely sure you don't bite, actually. I lived out in sheep country and never got chased by wolves while minding the herd but the neighbor's dogs were constantly after the lambs."

"Out near Nemuro then?" he asked,the name of a far northeastern district.

"Y-yeah!" She sputtered, taken aback. "-Not relatives of yours?"

"No, but it is where the Court Guard gets the mutton for it's rations from." he nodded.

"Right." She nodded, "So, are there a lot of Beastfolk?"

"Not quite so many as there are humans in soul society, but yes, a great many. There aren't cities per se, because most of us move with the seasons, but there are places where SOMEONE is always passing through, and permanent structures have been established." he explained.

Fubuki nodded. "-And does the soul society have, like? Treaties with these people? Or are we just not in contact that often?"

"Oh no, we have several standing peace treaties with the Beastfolk. It's how I came to meet Yamamoto-sotaicho, actually-" He laughed quietly.

Fubuki looked up, curious. "We do? I swear I went through the entire xenobiology section..."

"-They're in the archives under Resource Management and Clan Politics." He explained. "The most recent one was the Bo River Border Treaty in 1552, which forbid any industrial practice by anyone from Soul Society to occur east of River Bo. Several of the clans had designs on clear-cutting the old-growth forest there for profit, despite it being home to a great many Beastfolk and minor Kami. The captain-general's interest was originally more in preventing the clans from accumulating the kind of wealth that would allow them to establish armies or operating 'company towns' or other chicanery so far from court guard. I was asked by The Forest Guard to act as a negotiator because I had a good reputation with the humans in the east from working as a priest, but perhaps more because I was one of the few people that ah, actually spoke human."

"Wait, wait, wait-" Fubuki interrupted, scribbling as fast as she could. "One- you used to be a priest?"

"I still am, if needed." Sajin smiled. "I specialize in exorcisms and ritual purification so it wasn't much of a jump for me to become a Shinigami, especially after the captain-general asked me to come and gave me a letter of recommendation."

"Huh. I applied here as soon as I was old enough and could afford to, so all I ever did was odd jobs before this. I guess it never occurred to me that some people might have had whole careers before becoming Shinigami." Fubuki considered, writing. "Second- that was like, half a millennium ago? How old are you?"

Sajin cocked his head at her, smirking.

"Sorry! I know, you're not supposed to ask people that I just- I don't know, I thought you couldn't be much more than 200 at most for some reason, but if you were already a priest 500 years ago-?"

Sajin laughed. "I'll take it as a compliment then- I'm Seven Hundred and Twelve."

Fubuki blinked. "...You're almost as old as Ukitake-taicho?"

"Oh, he'll love to hear that- he's almost Nine Hundred" Sajin grinned, affectionately teasing the young thing.

Fubuki frowned, eyes darting around as she tried to do some mental math. "Er. If I can ask something potentially offensive?"

Sajin nodded.

"...How old is that in Wolfman years?"

Sajin somewhat literally barked a laugh.

"I mean- well, there's calendar age and life age for shinigami and Ukitake-taicho is Eight Hundred Eighty-Nine, yeah, but he's also like, in his mid-forties? What's er, what's Seven hudred twelve in Wolfman life age? Is it like Shinigami where people age at different rates and you're way older than most wolfmen or everyone ages differently or are you guys all multi-centurians or -?" Fubuki babbled, trying to clarify, another cold gust coming in through the window and scattering papers, interrupting her.

"No, no- I understand, it's just very funny." Sajin smiled as he picked up the top of his inbox from the floor. "-Weird, the forecast said it was supposed to be hot and sunny all week but I wonder if we're getting rain?" he muttered.

"I- I wouldn't know." Fubuki muttered, hiding behind her clipboard. "I always forget to check the weather."

"Don't worry about it- before I tell you, if Ukitake is in his Mid-forties, how old do you think I am in the same relative Life Age?"

"Um..." Fubuki studied him for a moment. "...40? 42?"

Sajin chuckled.

"I'm way off, aren't I?" She groaned.

"You share the same good judgement as the captain-general, if it makes you feel better. I was... two hundred sixty-three when we met, and even though I was quite young, I was already taller than Yamamoto-Sama, and for the first few hours we knew each other, he'd only heard me translating his words into Wolf for the Beastfolk- most of the languages are mutually intelligible, to a degree- and not my Human voice. "The meeting was attacked by Private Forces hired by several of the interests of the logging and mining corporations, and of the noble houses, and we were forced to fight back- Not knowing any better, I was sure The Forest God would be well-protected and able to fend for themselves, but the humans looked very small, so... I put myself between the attackers and Yamamoto-Sama." He sighed, deeply embarrassed.

Fubuki failed to stifle a laugh.

"In hindsight, that was ridiculous! Like a mouse defending a bear from a bug! But, it apparently impressed him and he very generously offered me a full scholarship to Shinigami Academy, both as an act of peace between Soul Society and Beastfolk, and because he liked 'the cut of your jib'." Sajin said. "...I'm still not entirely sure what a Jib is or how you cut it."

"Wow!" Fubuki perked up, writing as fast as she could. "...But you didn't- er. I also looked you up in the archives before coming in- But you didn't enter for another three centuries?"

"Ah. You see, you and the captain-general misjudged my age in the same fashion. As I had to explain to him then, I couldn't join the academy because-" Sajin nodded solemnly, clearing his throat and scaling his voice up a few octaves like it had been back then "-In human years, I'm only ten."

Fubuki snorted loudly, buckling over her clipboard and laughing hysterically. "What?" She yelped between giggles.

"I'm only 22 in Human Life Age now!" Sajin protested, mock-offended and Fubuki laughed even harder.

"Oh no! Oh no!" She gasped. "I said forty because you seem really calm and mature, but you're actually REALLY calm and-"

Something small and hard clattered to the floor and rolled under the desk and Fubuki abruptly went silent.

"Miss Fubuki?" he asked.

"I. I dropped my pen." She sputtered, crouching down from her seat and searching for it.

"...The pen behind your ear?" Sajin asked, leaning over to peer down at her.

"Oh, uh, that's a spare but I don't want to lose this one-" She said, voice shaking now.

"I think it rolled under here-" Sajin said, pushing his chair back and looking in the footwell of his desk. "-Hm? What's this?" he muttered, reaching down and picking the strange object up.

It looked almost like a small pearl, except it was perfectly spherical and translucent, nacreous colors shimmering deep into the smooth stone. "What a lovely thing this is..." He muttered, turning it over. "Did you lose an earring or something?" He said, offering it back to Fubuki-

She looked awful.

All the blood had drained from her face, and her expression was one of dire terror, eyes fixed on the small stone in his fingers.

"...Is there something you want to tell me, Miss Fubuki?" Sajin asked, voice gentle. -and his other hand on Tenken's hilt.

"What's the actual legal status of Nonhuman Persons in Seireitei?" She asked, slowly looking up at him, face gaunt.

Sajin regarded her for a long moment before lightly dropping the shimmering stone in his pen tray and sitting back, shoulders down and hackles low. "The law makes no distinction between human and non-human persons. If someone has a Soul Security Number, they're a citizen of Soul Society, and therefore entitled to the same protections and expected to follow the same regulations as everyone else."

She stared at him for a long time, lip trembling, and then back at the stone. "You're sure?" She asked, voice barely a whisper.

"I am entirely certain. I was present at the writing of those laws, which were amended after the River Bo treaty." He nodded.

"-but you hid your appearance for so long?" she asked, trembling in her seat.

Sajin looked out the window, a gesture of nonaggression. "I was not afraid at first, especially after meeting Yamamoto-sama, and to tell the truth, I was never frightened of humans harming me- but as I grew up and reached my adult height and lost the puppyfat, humans began to avoid me. "Less than twenty years after I met the general, I was trying to help a woman caught in a river current and when she saw me swimming toward her, she swam deeper into the current, rather than let me get close. It was a near thing, but after I managed to catch her arm, she screamed bloody murder the whole way back to shore and sprinted away from me as soon as she felt solid ground." he explained. "It... hurt. To see someone so frightened of me, and I took to keeping my face hidden so I could move about without accidentally terrorizing people."

Fubuki peeked up at him, not writing anything down, arms wrapped around herself. "...and? Since you stopped wearing your helmet?"

"...Everyone has been so kind. A few awkward questions at worst, but someone went through the snack cabinet and removed all the raisins and grapes, and someone else got rid of that wretched weathervane on the roof with the shriek I don't think most humans can hear." He smiled, a little sad. "I feel foolish, that I did not trust my friends and colleagues, who trained with me, who swore to die with me, and who trust me to lead them- I am sorry I didn't trust them sooner."

Fubuki nodded slowly, still ashen, eyes still fixed on the glittering stone.

"...but I am strong. Physically intimidating. An Apex Predator. People in general would prefer to avoid such confrontation, but that is not the case for all- What did you call us?" he asked.

Fubuki looked up at him, shaking. "N-nonhuman persons, sir."

"-for all of us." Sajin smiled gently.

Fubuki nodded, silent.

"...You're from Nemuro, right?" he asked. "Beautiful country up there- and cold- it's high in the mountains and in the north-most corner of the eastern districts. How long have you been with the Seventh Division, Miss Fubuki?"

"Three and a half years, sir. Straight out of the academy." She croaked, voice raw and frightened.

Sajin nodded. "Three and a half years here, six at the academy, and it probably took you several months to travel from Nemuro to Seireitei."

"Yes, sir."

"About ten years ago, there was a terrible case the tenth division had to handle in the living world." he said, deliberately not looking at Fubuki. "A human gangster had managed to kidnap an Ice Apparition somehow, and had imprisoned and tortured her for the purpose of creating Hiruseki Stones, which are the solidified tears of an Ice Apparition."

Fubuki shuddered, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she finally gathered the words together. "...Yukina is my first cousin, sir."

Sajin nodded, giving her space to speak.

"...when she got home alive, we were all so relieved, but- Oh gods. The things he did to her. And men are no better on this side of death- you know what they were going to do to Mononoke Forest! So- so- So I figured, the closer I am to danger, the farther I might be from harm? Nobody never think to look in the court guard for another Ice Apparition, we're all out on frozen mountaintops, not working in the building next door!" she laughed, high and terrified.

"It's- Everyone here is so kind, and- and- and- it's like you say, we trained together, we fight together, we die together but- but you're never really quite sure, are you? What's going to happen, when the cat gets out of the bag?" She grimaced up at him, before returning her gaze to the stone.

"I- I was devastated, when Aizen- you know. But the next day, when Lieutenant Iba came in with the news and told everyone to get rid of the grapes and the weathervane and oil the door to the storage closet- I was. I was so stunned and- and- I had this crazy idea that it'd be alright. It'd be alright if everyone knew. It would be okay to laugh for real at jokes or to come to work if I have hayfever making my eyes run or- or to just have a damn cry like everyone else in the division did that day." She continued, teeth bared like a fox in a snare.

"Is it?" She asked, blinking up at him, the rims of her eyes bright red. "Is it going to be okay, sir?"

Slowly, Sajin sat up and delicately picked up the Hiruseki stone.

Fubuki watched him, shaking.

Carefully, he set it in the middle of the blotter on his desk, put his thumb over it,

-And crushed it into a fine dust.

"I promise, it will all be alright, Miss Fubuki." He said offering her an open hand as he swept the dust off his desk like it were common lint.

She slowly reached up, fingertips delicately touching his, before suddenly bolting out of her chair and hiding her face in his shoulder, sobbing.

"I'm Sorry!" She wailed between wet, ugly sobs. "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry-"

"There is nothing to apologize for." Sajin sighed, gently embracing the girl, letting her hide her face in the fur of his neck as she crumpled against him, crying like a child. He could feel the fur under her getting coated in something wet, then cold and hard- the nacreous coating of Hiruseki stone coalescing on his chest.

"Uh. Sir?" Iba asked, sticking his head in the door.

"Its alright." he nodded. "Miss Fubuki has been very brave and a crisis averted."

"...cool?" Iba nodded, still puzzled. "Does she want a juice box or something?"

"Miss Fubuki?" he asked, peering down at her. Her face was red and eyes bloodshot but the horrible terror was gone.

"Um. Yes. Please? Thank you?" She mumbled, standing up and about to wipe her eyes off on her sleeve when Sajin stopped her and handed her a handkerchief instead.

Iba clicked his tongue and pointed a finger gun at them before vanishing back down the hall.

"...You realize that thing was probably worth more than the entire Kuchiki fortune, right?" she giggled from behind the handkerchief., still shaking.

"Then I will need to come up with more embarrassing stories from my youth when the next Widows and Orphans fundraiser comes around." he shrugged.

Fubuki sob-giggled from behind the handkerchief.

"I say that entirely in jest. You are under no obligation to provide any form of fundraising, least of all by that means." He explained, tone serious again. "-nor do you need to tell anyone, until you want to. Nobody will hear it from me."

"Thank you sir." Fubuki sighed, finally pulling the cloth away, trying to fold it, and making it snap instead. "Oh, for fuckssake- I'll get it clean somehow sir-"

"Keep it." He smiled and she finally managed to give him a weak grin back. "...If I may make a request for you to take under consideration though?"

"Yes, sir?" Fubuki asked, perking up a bit.

"Mrs. Oyashiro is scheduled to retire in a few weeks, and I will have an opening for a new secretary." Sajin explained, sitting back and fiddling with a pen. "Relatedly, you seem to possess a strong sense of operational security, and take excellent shorthand. Even more importantly-"

Komamura leaned back in his chair, pointing to a tree in the courtyard visible through his window, upon which a large thermometer hung. "-As you can see, it is a disgustingly hot Nintey-Four degrees outside and probably similarly humid, but your mere presence here has lowered the temperature in my office to a very pleasant Fifty-Eight degrees."

"Ah." Fubuki snickered, genuine this time. "Summer is hard when you're wearing a fur coat you can't take off?"

"You understand me exactly." He nodded.

"I'll put my application in, Sir." She bowed.

"Thank you. I also look forward to reading your interview."

"Oh!" She straightened up, and grabbed the clipboard. "Um, yeah, I think I have enough but, well, one last question?"

"Yes?" Sajin asked, ear cocked.

"...If you weren't afraid of people, and you grew to trust that people wouldn't be afraid of you- what was the hardest part of keeping your identity concealed?"

Sajin stared into the distance, thinking for a moment.

"Actually? Not making a million canine-related jokes a minute." he smirked. "-Pup's out of the bag though!"

"Oh no," groaned Fubuki, grinning.

[thrashkink-coven]

Koschey's Skull (it is my side blog) here.

I think one of the most fascinating, yet disappointing experiences with watching Christians defend their stances is how uneducated they are on their own subject material.

But it isn't just the lack of education. It is the lack of desire to want to bridge gaps, create more open understanding, think critically, or fix that lack of education. The desire to die on a hill with a narrow view of the material they claim to be so passionate about is a very intense testimony of the indoctrination that is prevalent in very closed minded cult communities.

It is why people criticise Christianity AS a cult. They maintain a narrow, closed minded and ignorant view of their own beliefs and refuse to encompass the entire berth of their own religion. They just subscribe to whatever specific and niche belief they would desire to have. And anything outside of that narrow lens is wretched and abhorrent - by extension, requiring them to take up their historical biblical arms to battle anyone that refuses to see things THEIR way.

The desire to oppress other people and "correct" them without actually having the information that they should have is always concerning. And obviously I don't believe that they will ever come out of the narrow box that they put themselves in. I don't expect them to expand their horizons or educate themselves on the diversity and historical (and cultural) evolution and beliefs. But it is kind of sad to see and it reminds me that people don't want to evolve their understanding sometimes. They just want to argue.

Which is fine. But I wish they would understand that in order to actually have a defensible argument you do need to be educated enough on the subject material. And they simply are not.

couldn’t have said it better myself.

The thing about this that bothers me the most is that the early Isrealites, Jews, even early Christians, were real people who’s lineage still exists today. I am very concerned with upholding those people’s truth even if I don’t “agree” with it because I have immense respect for their culture and history. It’s incredibly frustrating to see people take the work (actually, I’ll go as far as to call it art, because the Bible is a work of art) of people, completely disregard their intentions and their cultural context, and then use their scripture to justify something they never would have supported. That in my opinion is cultural appropriation.

We don’t have to guess what the Bible means or what the people intended. There are so so so many Rabbis, Priests, and religious scholars who have dedicated literal centuries to understanding the intentions of the ancient people. When we take the time to actually research and read what those people said, we can understand what they believed God to have said.

In my research I actually ended up reaching out to a couple practicing jews and christians to hear their perspectives, because I am not Christian nor Jewish, and so I truly cannot understand the text as it was intended to be perceived by followers of YHWH. I love talking to people about their religion, and I was lucky enough for a couple of them to actually ask priests and rabbis in their community my questions because they too care about the intended truth. And those rabbis and priests were surprisingly open and willing to discuss this because they also care about the intended truth! They were so happy that people, especially seculars, still care enough about the truth to ask questions, and our conversations only gave me more incentive to actually learn about the history of the Bible and the culture that created it.

One person who I talked to on Reddit, who is a Christian youth group pastor said “I’m just happy you’re reading the Bible and asking questions because most people like you (pagans, heathens, luciferians and demonolaters) don’t even read the Bible and just run off with your own conclusions that it’s all bad. IMO it’s so much more meaningful to read the Bible and pay enough attention to have these questions, than to just follow it blindly because you think you should. Even if you never convert or fully agree I encourage you to keep going! We need people like you to keep us curious haha.”

People talk about the Bible as if it is not a piece of cultural art, as if it just appeared one day in isolation from the people. As if our modern values will ever be more important than the intentions of the ancient people when the text was written. And it’s a very bitter and sad way of disrespecting the people who gave you the book, religion, and doctrine you cling to so hard.

As a pagan devoted to a deity, I love my Goddess. oh my Gods I love my Goddess so much!!!!!

And I will put in the effort learn every little thing about her, the cultures who created her, and the history of her origins. The good, the bad, the ugly, the weird, and the shit that doesn’t even make sense. Because I love her, I am devoted to her eternally, and I truly wish to know her as one would know an old friend. So I truly cannot understand Christians who claim to love their God but can’t even be bothered to learn the first thing about him, his people, or how he came to be.

[incorrectbbpoblivionau]

Intro/Info

❛Deities of vestroia, Ancient beings said to have been lost in the mist of the final battle on their planet. Only will they be awaken when Oblivion is activated, then shall they reunite again❜

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳

Dan: I CAN'T DO IT! Wynton, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Dan: I CAN'T FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE Lia: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Dan: ... I appreciate it, Dan: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Shun: Dan- Dan: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Ajit: Dan we gotta- Dan: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Dan: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Dan, motioning to my Oblivion au: NOT FUCKING THIS!

﹌﹌﹌

ASKS - OPEN

SUBMISSIONS - OPEN

Hello everyone that comes across this blog :D I'm Glitz, ( @glitzwashere | She/They/It ) welcome to my Bakugan BP Oblivion AU's dump blog! Where I either reblog stuff, ramble, actually post art (sometimes reblog from my main) or post a random incorrect quote I have saved in my notes because I spam the incorrect quotes generator too much.

This is my self indulgent passion project I have been brainstorming and working on for... quite a while now (4 years? pretty sure) and since I didn't do anything on my other blog dedicated for it I deleted it and went "might as well do something" so here we are now.

please note posts in this blog will include

A bunch of headcanons

My favourite ships

Oc x canon ships

ocs in general

Mentions of violence (incorrect generator loves those for some reason)

uh, swearing

Heavy themes (I will tag individual posts accordingly)

And a bunch of other stuff that you'll probably figure out later on

If you are going to harass me about any of the headcanons or ships then please kindly get off my blog and/or block me. I'm not dealing with that, I'm just trying to have fun here.

I made this cause if I don't dump my ideas I'm going to explode into a million pieces then die, but at the same time don't expect me to post much I am very inconsistent so uhhhh send help.

ALSO!!! I have this thing called character specific asks! They're nothing special but basically, you ask a question and I sort of role play the character you ask! I won't do it for all asks, but if you would like to do this just put Character Specific Ask: [insert character here] and ask away! Nothing weird though! (all of these will be based post-Oblivion so be wary)

Anyways I hope you all enjoy this little passion project blog, feel free to interact and send me asks or like anything really!! I'd be so happy to talk to you all about Oblivion!!

﹌﹌﹌

MASTERLIST

#incorrectbbpoblivionau - concepts, rambles, idea spews, misc

#incorrectbbpoblivionarchive - art, edits & writing

#incorrectbbpoblivionquotes - Incorrect quotes

#bppoblivionreblogs - Reblogs

#oblivionsupdates - Story updates!!

#oblivionscreator - admin updates

#bbpoblivionancienttexts - All answers to asks

[stillbornedprincess]

I heard once that there was a discovery of monothestic cults in ancient mexique, what do you think

sis you are going to have to elaborate and share the news of this discovery because I scrambled to look it up and found nothing.

Monotheism, where did Muhammad peace be on him get it? I ask that question, what I get is vagueness. I have no problem comprehending the messages and stories of the Old Testament but I start itching around Surah Baqarah. Is it a translation issue? Well, I have two translations, and I don’t think there’s any other tidy ones in print. Must I infiltrate and live within the Sufi Monasteries in Tchad for thirty years to read the Quran ? Obviously not! My English ones are fine.

Sure the old dancing girls knew all about the Quran and what it says. They were illiterate and uneducated and certainly not allowed within thirty meters of the monastery. But I’m sure they knew. (Edit. Too much connotation. I will elaborate but again see the new addition to this post) (I would remove this paragraph but it will stay)

Anyway, on paper I know all the major different sorts of monotheism. Mystically I know it to an extent. With all of this I am inclined to believe in it, because I know it. But still, where did he (Muhammad pbuh) get it?

I know I have a big bias when asking that question. An answer arguing that Muhammad ‘got‘ his monotheism would argue that it was mystical. Many Muslims understood his monotheism this way. I understand it this way too, he was a man of heightened, no, esteemed senses.

You may ask: but you said you want to know where his monotheism came from? Now you are saying you know and that is was mysticism. My answer to that is: it is not belief, but empathy. You will also ask: Nisreen, you mentioned a bias, what is the bias? The answer is: my bias is my knowlege of Muhammad, Muhammad pbuh, Muhammad swt, and holy prophet. I wrote imagination before I wrote knowledge, the reasons why I changed it is that it would not be applicable to each name. I told you about the word I put after because I understand it is also not applicable completely.

So what’s the bias? That is, Muhammad always evades me. I have his biography down by memory (grew up devout) and in my own pursuits of trying to know the figure, sure, as a figure (we will use that word now) I am content in my perception. But once I put the book down he’s a mist once more. What was his theology, other than la ilaha il Allah? There is so much to write, this will go in drafts, till my nap, goodbye tumblr.

5.12.24

Wow. I refute everything I wrote. Illogical is made up it is the real Logic. But I see what I was writing. I was getting somewhere. But I am only willing to type out the rest for the service of another. Because I hate speech that is not blood from the heart or feathers cushioning another heart

[thegreymoon]

Hi! Thank you for responding to my question about 2ha haters' bad takes. Your answer helped a lot! It's true that some people will simply never shut up when it comes to blindly hating on 2ha. However, I do wonder if meatbun had focused a bit more on ranwan's sexuaI trauma (especially chu wanning. as in making them talk about it at least once maybe in the post canon extras?), would these horrible takes be a somewhat lower in number...? Anyway, thank you for responding!

Hey, anon!

I'm glad you found my reply helpful!

Honestly, I think Meatbun focuses enough on what was done to them both, considering what the focus of this book is to begin with. This is an erotic novel, not a manual on healthy relationships. Again, people who cannot tell the difference really shouldn't be reading this book in the first place.

I don't see how anything would have been improved if Meatbun had stopped in the middle of the text and put up a warning in bright, neon letters saying, "DISCLAIMER: Don't rape people in real life, kids!" Nor do I see the benefit of the two of them sitting down and analysing it in text bit by bit so that a bunch of antis can be satisfied (spoiler alert: they still wouldn't be satisfied and would still nitpick it till kingdom come anyway). As it stands, they do discuss what was done to them both. Primarily in chapter 279, before Mo Ran's death, when Chu Wanning ends it with "I was willing, I am still willing and will be willing in the future too." We see Chu Wanning having nightmares post-canon. We see him and Mo Ran negotiating consent in the extras for one of their kinkier games and how sensitive Mo Ran in his right mind is to what he's done to Chu Wanning before and how important his consent is now. I am sure there are multiple other instances that I can't remember off the top of my head, but again, like I said, none of this matters.

This whole discussion reminds me of a tragic event some years ago at Yellowstone National Park where a group of people ignored a clear warning, crossed a barrier, went to take a picture too close to the edge of a waterfall, fell in and died. Later, a journalist asked a ranger if they were going to put up more signs and the ranger replied, "No." Rightfully so, because there were plenty of warnings and common sense should tell you that this is dangerous, but if you choose to ignore all that for a cute selfie, then whatever happens afterwards is on you. No matter how many warnings there are, stupid people are going to be stupid, ignore them all and get hurt.

The same principle goes for smaller things, like deciding whether or not to read 2ha. I feel like people have done plenty by spreading warnings far and wide that this book contains non-con. The book itself is labelled as being for adult readers only. Reasonable people understand what kinky erotica is, do not equate fiction with reality and do not get butthurt when two fictional dudes in ancient fantasy China don't have a detailed manifesto in-text about their opinions on the evils of rape. This book is for people looking for erotic fantasy (with a dash of having their neurons rearranged by the story on the side). It is not and never will be a guidebook on safe, sane and consensual sex.

In any case, nonny, my advice remains the same! Block and ignore all antis and bad faith takes. You cannot win this argument and you shouldn't try. Just block, block, block and block some more. You will be much happier, I promise!

^_^

[shirohige-pirates]

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Chapter 6: Brothers

“I don’t know if I can keep up.” You admit with a laugh. You’re sitting in a restaurant that is maybe a little too fancy for your tastes, but you acquiesced, and Marco seemed to know the people who worked there. “So Ace is your brother, but also brothers with two other boys, who are only brothers to him, but again, not by blood. Wait, they exchanged cups when they were like, what? Six?”

Marco chuckles. “Somewhere around there. Cheeky little thieves, yoi.”

“So, you’re the eldest then, mr. ‘I’m ancient’?” You tease.

Marco shakes his head. “Not by age, no. I was the first one Pops adopted, so I ended up filling the role of eldest son, but I’m barely into my forties.”

“A little older than I thought,” you muse, taking another bite of the house salad that precludes your meal.

“Not a little too old, I hope.” There’s a tinge of worry in his voice, but that sure and easy smile seems certain it will only hear good news.

You grin deviously, biting your lower lip suggestively before meeting his gaze. “A little too old for what? This is just a dinner to settle a tab, isn’t it?”

Marco’s face goes pink, and he chuckles a little nervously. “I’m undone by my own words, it seems.”

You smile, licking your lips to help relax your mouth so you can speak. “But no… not too old.” You admit, clearing your throat as the waiter brings your main courses.

“I hope you won’t have to sleep at the office every time I want to take you on a date, yoi.” He teases and you nearly choke on your water.

“N-no, of course not.” You assure him, as you compose yourself. “These last few days were just bah-er… unique.” You correct and then start laughing. You have a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter so you don’t disrupt other diners, and Marco gives you an inquisitive look.

“Sorry, it’s nuh-nothing really.” You say, almost losing it to another giggle fit. “It’s just a silly thought.”

“I’d love to hear it.” He says evenly. The tone of his voice, the slight smile on his face, the way those hooded eyes looked at you, was dangerous. Disarming too, and you found yourself willing to share.

“I’m just imagining introducing you. ‘This is Dr. Marco, I met him during the worst day of my life’.” You say, making a little motion with your hands and raising your voice half an octave.

It’s Marco’s turn to nearly choke, almost spitting out what he was eating and taking a second to compose himself. Despite the hand covering most of his face you can tell he’s gone pink, and he’s having a hard time looking at you.

“I warned you,” you say with a laugh.

He nods, hand over his mouth a moment longer as he tried to calm the blush out of his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he sniffs a little before letting out a soft chuckle.

“I was expecting silly,” he asserts, blush darkening on his face again despite his efforts. “Not endearing, yoi.”

It’s your turn to be flustered, and you turn your attention to your meal. The best part of having dinner with someone is that there was always something to help distract you from that other person when you needed a minute. Since it was rude to talk with your mouth full, all you had to do was keep putting food in your mouth and you could buy yourself a moment or two.

“So, if you don’t mind my asking, how many brothers do you have?” You question after a few moments of quiet eating. You’ve both had a chance to move past your earlier flustered states.

“Thirty-seven.” He says evenly and you drop your fork.

“Thir-thirty-seven?” You had expected a big number, a dozen or so maybe, but not triple that. “Holidays must be completely bonkers.”

An amused chuckle escapes him. “Most every day is a little bonkers.” He admits. “I’m not even sure how many nieces and nephews I have since Thatch took things over. It was forty-two just from my siblings who had married and started having kids.”

He takes a bite of food, mostly to give you a chance to process everything before he continues. “Most of them moved to other cities, or islands altogether. We do a full reunion about every five years, but we usually take over Heun. It works out well.”

“Heun… No way, are you telling me that your family reunions are why Heun hasn’t needed help the last…” You start to count years in your head and you and Marco answer at the same time.

“Nine years.”

You’re quiet for a moment as you process what’s going on. “Ivankov failed to mention that Heun was off the records because of a single large family.” You say flatly after a moment.

Marco smiles. “In a manner of speaking, Ivan was the reason we chose Heun.” He admits. “I didn’t realize that’s who you worked for, but when you said donations now it makes sense.”

“Ivan’s never said he’s friends with the head vet at the animal hospital either.” You say flatly. “Not that she knew I was coming to dinner with you specifically.”

“If it makes it less surreal, I’m not directly friends with Ivan.” He says evenly. “Both of Ace’s other brothers are, and Ivan and one of my… we’ll say brothers to keep it easy, was also an associate. That old reptile hasn’t been around since the first reunion, but that connection is effectively how we ended up doing what we did.”

“So… you guys load up a big barge, water, seeds, cloth, booze and food, and party hard for a couple weeks while supplying the island?”

Marco nods. “We send yearly supplies outside of that.” He admits. “You ever send stuff to Sphinx Island?”

“In the New World? Oh yeah.”

He points with his fork. “That’s the trade. Ivan has international connections that are tried and tested. He keeps Pops’ home island on his radar, and we take care of Heun.”

“With Thirty-seven brothers, you certainly have enough hands to do it too.” You admit. “Your family has sailing experience then, I take it?”

Marco nods. “It was… years ago. Back before Roger changed the world with the One Piece.”

Didn’t change it enough. You grumble internally, but keep it to yourself. That Roger changed the world for the better was undeniable, but the change wasn’t enough. The world really needed a true revolution, a liberation from the top down. Roger managed to improve the world before an incurable disease took his life, but you always felt it would’ve been better for him to pass the torch, instead of trying to carry it.

But, it was what it was. Roger’s choices had left you with little hope, but it wasn’t like he made his decision knowing your situation.

Marco cleared his throat. “My apologies, I know that can be a heavy topic.”

“It’s alright. That’s, it’s - I mean, you don’t have to answer, but why Lvneel? If you and your family were sailors, why settle down here?”

He nearly laughs. “We didn’t come straight here, yoi. We’ve been on Lvneel, oh, I guess almost twenty years, but for a couple years we still sailed.” He looks a little melancholy and sighs. “The world changed so much, and stayed the same in a lot of ways, but in the end, fate brought us here and we settled in. Lvneel’s a good place. It was much less of a city when we first got here, yoi.”

He takes a bite of food, and you can see the tips of his ears go pink before he speaks again. “It’s certainly worked out well, so far.”

The sweet shiver that goes down your back pulls a soft, awkward chuckle from your lips, despite your efforts, and you focus on your meal pointedly for a few minutes. It’s delicious, thankfully, and once your heart stops trying to beat a dent into your rib cage you manage to shift the conversation.

For better or worse your chosen topic is likely to put you right back where you were a moment ago, but you think it might be like a bandage. Ripping it free will break some of the building tension and you spare yourself lingering anticipation.

“So, Dr. Marco,” you say with a crooked smile, trying desperately to mask your nerves. “What did you have in mind for our first non-obligatory date.”

He smiles and for a split second it almost feels like you’ve been pinned to the wall. “How do you feel about surprises, yoi?”

You almost laugh. “I’d say it depends on the surprise.” You admit. “Surprise hospital bill, not high up on my list. Surprise date that doesn’t end, say, in a hospital… certainly higher up the list.”

“What’re your Saturdays like, yoi?” He prompts with a smile.

“Mostly open. I usually go into the office for a couple hours, but it’s not required.” You answer. “Yours?”

“Minimal staff, no appointments. We generally only do discharges, if anything.” He explains. “I usually go in just to avoid being called in if something unexpected happens. But, by 3pm I could be at your place, yoi.”

“To… go somewhere?” You prompt, uncertainty and, well, nerves wasn’t really the right word. There was a part of you that wasn’t sure you’d oppose making out on your couch with this man a scant few days after having met him.

His willpower better be better than yours though, or things wouldn’t stop on the couch.

He nods. “To go somewhere.” He says reassuringly. “If you wanted to invite me in, though, I wouldn’t decline, yoi.” You look up and catch the gaze looking back at you. It was relaxed as ever, hooded eyes open just enough you could feel the unexpectedly sharp gaze root you to the spot.

Something in those eyes did not carry the promise of gentlemanly behavior.

You swallow thickly, taking a drink of water almost reflexively.

“I’m guessing the where is the surprise part then?” You question and he nods. “That’s quite the gamble.”

“Oh?”

You hum. “You barely know me, what if you take me some place I can’t stand? What if I don’t like movie theaters, or long walks on the beach.” You put quotes around the last phrase, rolling your eyes a little. “Maybe I’m allergic to ice cream. The whole day could turn into a disaster.”

“The second worst day of your life, yoi?” He questions with a smile.

“Pfft,” your earlier sarcasm breaks, and you laugh. “Well played doctor, well played.”

Marco hums a little in response.

The rest of the meal goes smoothly. You and Marco talk about nothing at all really. The weather, your work schedules. You decide to go on your surprise date in a week. Saturday’s right around the corner and you still have plenty of work to deal with, so the next one after is best.

You exchange phone numbers, and even plan to meet at Sanji’s café for lunch when work allows for it. Little details weaving between the fabric of the lives you both currently live.

Maybe you’re not as busy as you always thought you were. Maybe it’s that you’re all rough edges and biting wit. Maybe you and Kid were just a bad mix. And Daz, and Galette – though admittedly those two were only in Lvneel on business, and you hadn’t intended to leave the island. Some of your relationships had been just kind of doomed like that. Fukaboshi was a fishman with responsibilities heavy enough to try and drag you under, but it hadn’t been a bad summer that year.

In between there was always Kid.

He wasn’t a bad guy. Him, Killer, Heat and Wire ran a successful business, one you’d benefited from more than once. You fit so poorly, off and on, for so long, that you had started to think there was simply something wrong with you. Some deficiency or flaw that you couldn’t smooth down enough to make it work.

But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t hit a rough edge and growl, or pull his hand back. What little wit you’d thrown at him he’d taken in stride, and returned skillfully.

Kid was straight forward and crude. You knew within moments that he wanted to get to know you, he’d said as much in words heavy with lust and fire. If nothing else, you never had to wonder what was on Kid’s mind, or what he wanted. Which had been refreshing at first, a change of pace from people who seemed either timid or falsely polite.

Marco’s words hadn’t been crude, or timid, and there wasn’t any ulterior motive in his politeness. But yet he had still been direct in his desires. Without a single crude word, or wandering hand.

As you walked up to your door, the sun dipping low, you knew you could invite him inside and he would say yes. You knew dessert had been a while ago, but his lips would still taste sweet. You knew that his steady manner and even cadence would slip you so easily from your clothes, and you would happily drown in it.

There was no need to guess.

He put the car in park and got out, walking up to the door with you, a few paces behind, hands tucked in his pockets. The air was chill enough that your breath came out in little white puffs, catching the last few glimmers of the setting sun, and picking up the orange yellow glow of the streetlamps.

“Walking me to my door, you’re quite the gentleman, doc.” You muse, putting your back to the door and giving him a smile. You weren’t quite at eye level with him, despite the step up from walkway to porch. He gives you a smile, relaxing his shoulders and letting his coat drop down a little. You could see the chill run across his skin as little bumps formed, and remembered scrubs weren’t exactly warm.

“It’s purely selfish.” He says, reaching out for a hand you were offering him before you even realized what you were doing. He brings your fingers up to his lips bending down a little, but still keeping his eyes on yours as you feel the blood rush up to your face.

“Until next time, Miss (Y/N).” He says softly, before placing a kiss against your fingers.

“Ah… in… indeed.” You manage as he straightens back up, giving you a warm smile before going back to his car.

It took you a moment to remember how keys worked, but you got inside and realized he didn’t leave the drive until you were safe inside the house. Whether he lingered a minute longer in case you needed something, or because he didn’t want to leave, you couldn’t say.

[suffering-is-cute]

banishing the hours of the quiet night, i vigorously

shake my head, calling away the moments before daylight's momentum hits.

my mother whispered into the shell of my ear, brandishing a cup of honey water like proof of a quest accomplished -

"it's not that i don't love you, it's that you're so hard to love."

i wonder what she thinks she gains by teaching her beloved child that she is unworthy of what she has given - i only shy away further from all touch, now, instead of inviting closeness.

and i used to ask her what she was watching and plop down beside her, trying to share in the fun

but i don't know, today, i just mutely watch her from the doorway, transfixed on her drama, Alone, Alone, Alone,

and pass by the door, heading for my own room.

the car crash of those words had no crunch zone and i am the one who crumpled, draining the cup dry, offering futile honest words

"i know, i know, i know" you have done such a great job of teaching me this lesson, you never had to put it in words to get it through.

fruitlessly, helplessly, uselessly, difficulty, i have bated my breath and baited myself. i have bared my soul to this ceaseless thought of not being worth company.

i accepted it, but this sin surpasses all previous sins - if you don't love me, i beg of you, just never tell me that it's because i am me.

banishing the hours of the quiet night, i switch on the radio and go to sleep. i also know that you have your own issues, dearest mother of mine (i say this without bite), i know that your mother does not love you enough and so you do not know how to love.

i agree, finally, that i am allowed to be loved, I give assent to the me quarreling within for rights.

Oh, i can't stop loving and questioning and hoping for understanding. i hope you forgive me, mother, for not blindly believing you when you say that I'm hard to be loved -

there is someone who loved me regardless, so i know it can be done. on that day that i was love, i was handed the proof that i am alive and not merely a ghost, clutching at the documents printed with the signature and stamp of someone willing to be responsible for my life.

there is paperwork, so i can prove it.

one woman's trash is

another man's

treadmill, thread, treasure

i am fine with being your trash

as long as there is one person in this world who looks at me and sees the glorious tides swishing around buried treasure

i can stand up, straight, again. after everything. accidental compromises. vast misfortune. majority disbelieving.

i went back to sleep peacefully. the creamer in my coffee speaks an ancient prophecy - even if you mind, you will be loved - and this holds me steadfast like an anchor in a storm or an x in a treasure map.

staying sitting in this room, I won't fall because I am ready to be found and I am freed from wanting to be quiet like the surroundings of my hurt that I hadn't realised was there.

[saibugslegacy]

Ambrose Ask Game

I realized this morning that I forgot how ask games work and just did Odysseus' entire thing so I am a fool but I am now a committed fool. Questions from @rypnami

1) if your mc was an animagus, what would their form be? if they are, what is their form?

I think Ambrose’s animagus form would be, ironically, an eagle. They’re fiercely loyal and will fuck you UP, along with being good caretakers of their young

2) if they could choose what animagus form they would take, would it be the same? or would they want to have a different animal form?

I think he’d choose some type of bird, maybe a raven or crow, but he wouldn’t mind an eagle too

3) does your mc have a favourite colour? why is it their favourite?

Green, because Slytherin is the first real home he ever had

4) in a modern au, would your mc use social media? what would their preferred platform be? why is if their preferred one?

Ambrose would use Tumblr unironically. He’s just fucking weird and it’s easier to avoid arguments, also it’s more anonymous than twitter or Facebook or especially Instagram. He has a twitter account but has not opened the app in two years. He’s more likely to use Facebook. I could also see him using Snapchat, the messages disappearing would make him feel less nervous

5) did you consult wand lore when choosing their wand? if so, why did you pick what you did? if not, would you ever change wand details to match your mc?

I did consult wand lore because I am an absolute nerd. Ambrose’ wand is Aspen wood and phoenix feather. I chose Aspen wood because it’s particularly suited to martial magic and duelling, which is where Ambrose excels via Ancient Magic, and it’s masters are strong minded, determined, and drawn to quests. I was really sold though with this quote from the Wizarding World website: “this is a wand for revolutionaries.” Phoenix feather is because it has a huge range for its magic and Ambrose is at least average in most forms average. Plus it’s a rare and picky wand and Ambrose has a very “chosen one” energy the rest of my mcs dont have as much

6) what is your mc’s diet? are they vegan, vegetarian, do they eat whatever? Why?

Ambrose will eat literally anything you put in front of him, because he doesnt want to be rude or ungrateful, and because he didnt grow up with the ability to reject food because he never knew when the next time he’d eat was

7) what is your mc’s backstory as to why they didn’t join hogwarts until 5th year? or did you retcon that part of the story when creating them?

Ambrose was raised by two squibs who were SUPER bitter and hated wizards, so he grew up subconsciously suppressing his magic, especially since his brother’s magic was so destructive. He was teetering on the edge of becoming an obscurial but at the least second he let out all the magic he’d been suppressing while protecting Everett from his own fire (getting burned in the process). He got his Hogwarts letter when they went out a few months later, wrote back refusing to go, then Fig showed up and his efforts combined with Everett convinced him to go

8) what house is your mc in? why are they in that house? 

Ambrose is in Slytherin because, while he has a moral code, he is completely willing to set it aside whenever he feels like he needs to. Ex, he thinks killing is bad but is absolutely willing to murder someone if he feels he has no other option. He’ll feel shitty about it afterward but he’ll do it

9) were you inspired by characters from other media when making your mc? if so, which characters? and how did they influence your mc? 

Not really? Harry Potter a little but only in the sense of the main character/chosen one energy

10) does your mc have any special abilities? (legilimens, parsletongue, metamorphagus, etc) how do they choose to use these powers? did you give them powers for fun, or does it relate to their backstory/plot?

Post game he becomes able to channel the Ancient Magic for a wider range of abilities and can become a host of it, like the avatar state, but nothing outside of ancient magic

11) what is your mc’s blood status? how does it affect their time at hogwarts? how does it affect their home life?

His parents both have wiarding blood but since they’re both squibs he is technically a half blood. It doesn’t affect his home life much, but it does affect his life at Hogwarts for a bit because of a bunch of people being bitchy about a half-blood Slytherin. But him, Sebastian, Ominis, and Imelda shut that shit down fast

12) did your mc open the repository? why or why not? 

He did not open the Repository because he felt bad 

13) if your mc opened the repository, how did absorbing all that power affect them, if it did at all?

N/A

14) what does your mc think of the keepers? do they trust them? why or why not?

Trusts them overall but does get kind of annoyed at them sometimes over their lack of urgency and refusal to tell him anything

15) how does your mc’s story continue after 5th year? how do they cope with everything that happened with ranrok, sebastian, etc?

Not to give toooo much away but Ambrose’s story in 6th year mainly has to do with trying to get Ominis away from his family, raising Everett while also attending school, and dealing with black market smugglers trying to get their hands on powerful rare artifacts, in this case the Ancient Magic wand, the Deathly Hallows, and the Founders Relics. Thankfully, it isn’t long before a young witch transfers from Beauxbatons to help, a witch with very familiar powers…..

16) did your mc learn the unforgivables? why or why not?

They did because, while they are a last resort, he likes having some “break glass in case of emergency” spells

17) did your mc turn in sebastian? why or why not?

He did not, even though he was really pissed at him at the time, because he is a gay loser

18) what is your mc’s family like? do they have siblings? do they still have parents?

His parents SUCK, and his little brother Everett might as well be Ambrose’s son. He is a little goblin with fire powers and the most precious baby in the whole world and he will burn you alive

19) does your mc have a love interest? who is it? why did your mc fall for that character, if they do have a love interest?

I like to play with my MCs like dolls and make aus where they have different love interests, but the canon love interests for Ambrose are Sebastian and Ominis

20) does your mc have a favourite spell? if so, what is it and why do they like it the most?

Depulso, it gets people the fuck away from him and it’s really easy for crowd control, not to mention to just knock someone off a cliff and now you dont have to deal with them

21) if you could change anything that the mc does in the game, what would it be? why would you change it? how would you change it? (ie; a line they say, an event of a quest, things of that nature)

I really wish we could see MC trying to cope more and get comforted. I want MC especially to have more of a reaction to literally being kidnapped by Rookwood and suddenly they’re being attack on all sides, or maybe some PTSD at the dragon fighting ring or in the fight with dragon Ranrok because of the dragon attack at the beginning. It’s hard to get invested in them when they have no reaction to anything. They are 15!! Let them be scared and sad! Also they should have absolutely ripped Sebastian a new one after his little “ignorant” comment

22) does your mc have any pets? if so, why do they have the pets they have? and for fun, what are their pets’ names?

After 5th year he gets an owl so he can keep in touch with his friends and once they get away from his parents him and Everett get a Kneazle named Sock because Everett found him rummaging in a shoe

23) when designing your mc, why did you choose the appearance you did? has it changed at all since you first made them? would you change anything now?

I just kinda fucked around and found out honestly, even his burn scar I didn’t figure out the source for until later. Ambrose was also the first MC I played with so he started as a sort of self insert while I experienced the game for the first time, then became his own character my second playthrough 

24) where is your mc from? where is their family from?

His father is from London and his mother is Greek

25) what is your mc’s favourite season? why is it their favourite?

Autumn, he likes being cozy and thinks the leaves are pretty

26) how about your mc’s favourite holiday? what makes it special to them?

Halloween, no particular reason other than that it’s in Autumn honestly, but he does like how excited Everett gets to trick or treat around their little hamlet

27) if your mc wasn’t in their current house, where would they have been sorted? why do you think they’d be there?

Hufflepuff because of his his loyalty. Outside of his resourcefulness his loyalty is a core part of himself and what fuels most of his actions. The entire plot is spawned because of Ambrose's loyalty to and trust in Fig.

28) does your mc have a favourite childhood toy? if so, what was it? do they still have it with them?

Not really, though he did like to use sticks and pretend they were wands and swords

29) what kind of music would your mc like? is there a reason?

I think he’d like whatever genre Conan Gray counts as, purely based on vibes

30) last but not least, just tell us something you love about your mc! 

I love his silly freckles and that he has long hair despite being a trans guy, I think he looks very pretty :3

[brineffxiv]

We catch up to Matsya in time to save him from a kidnapping attempt by a group of tempered Imperial soldiers.

Matsya passes on some information about the beings that have been sighted around the tower; apparently, they resemble the deities of the people of Thavnair. When we inquire about the deities in question Matsya invites us back to his village to learn about them.

In the village, Matsya shows us a scroll depicting three of their most revered deities: three sisters representing wisdom, wealth, and crafts. There are also other deities, but I suspect the sisters are the important ones since the game showed us an image of them. Matsya also tells us that dragons have an important place in Thavnairian faith, and that the Satrap - the ruler of Radz-at-Han, the capital city - has an ancient pact with a dragon deity who is rumored to fly to his aid in times of need. This will be important later.

We arrive at the Great Work to find the alchemists all laying on the ground. They appear to be unharmed, yet asleep. What.

Thankfully, Varshahn here arrives with a basket full of scales to wake them all. And indeed they pop to their feet immediately upon being informed of fresh scales. So it was a comedy bit and not a dramatic one. Phew.

They are making a talisman to protect against the tower! That's amazing.

I notice that Varshahn takes particular note of Estinien, which makes sense when it's revealed that the scales are dragon scales. Given willingly, apparently, by the aforementioned dragon ally of the Satrap.

Oh dear. Estinien has also caught the eye of the alchemists. They want to steal his blood.

Poor Estinien.

While Nidhana claims that the people of Thavnair have long worked to create effective countermeasures for primals and their aetheric corruption, I suspect that Thavnair has little first-hand experience with primals. Just judging by how fast their research progressed once that tower was dropped on their island. Nothing like an active threat to provide incentive to innovate.

They need me to assist in testing their talisman, by being an escort into the tower's field of influence. That sounds... worrying. If I, myself, am not doing the testing, it implies that someone vulnerable to tempering will be putting themselves at risk. I admire the brave soul willing to put their work to the test in such a manner.

I pass all the tests just fine, as I knew I would. Hydaelyn makes a damn good blessing.

Nidhana asks me to escort her outside while she gathers some vital components. No sooner do we exit the Great Work than we are again set upon by a group of tempered Imperials attempting to kidnap her.

The outing provides me with the opportunity to ask Nidhana about the island's history and the Satrap, which she gladly tells me.

It is an interesting system of government, and it is clear the people have a great respect and love for their leader.

I am mildly suspicious that I have yet to see this man, or even hear his name. The last time a leader figure was hidden from me, he turned out to be Vauthry. But, all signs indicate this isn't a repeat of that situation. The Satrap seems to be active in caring for and looking after his people.

Nidhana and I make an uneventful trip back to the Great Work.

What is it with Ascians and sitting on top of buildings??

Oh wait, it's the literal "looking down on people" thing. That's it.

Uh-oh. Danger!

Are you talking about that Allagan scientist? Owen?

You are! But how did you know about him? His boss wouldn't let him... make...

*narrows eyes*

I have... two dots. And I don't know how to connect them. You are implying you were someone in authority in the Allagan Empire. At minimum, you must have been connected with either Owen or his boss, Amon. And it's not easy to forget that Amon was second-last boss of Syrcus, especially when I end up running that damn raid every other day for Alliance Roulette.

Which is... kinda trippy? I did not expect Syrcus Tower to be relevant in Endwalker, and yet... Everything always comes back to the Allagans.

So he's not going to interfere... But he is watching. Oh hells.

[faffreux]

So I ask this out of innocent curiosity but do you not mind the fact that Fawful was clearly willing to endanger or even snuff out the lives of like… a countless number of innocent inhabitants of the mushroom kingdom? Also why do you feel as though Mario n Luigi were out of line in what they did when Fawful put himself in a position of villainy willingly? I’m dying to know so thanks for reading n possibly answering.

WELL OKAY SO I FEEL LIKE I NEED TO PREFACE WITH THE FACT THAT never have I EVER said that Mario and Luigi were out of line/in the wrong. That's very important for me to bring up here bc I am not the type of person to mindlessly defend the villain of the story or their actions just because I happen to like them, lmfao.

The Bros. were doing what they had to do to protect their kingdom and subsequently those they cared about. Fawful's overconfidence in the infallibility of his plan are what led to his defeat. He is a very flawed individual who made questionable decisions but that does not make me adore him any less. I could choose to focus on his flaws, but why do that when my heart is full to bursting with love and appreciation for him? I can acknowledge where he went wrong (even if he won't.. but that's a story for another day. I'm looking at you, Fawful. LOL.) without losing the ability to see the beauty inside his heart, mind, and soul in the process.

It's also important for me to note that he doesn't show himself to be a murderer in any capacity, despite what I've seen some others say? Fawful is not a killer. The only characters he expresses a desire to harm in any way are really Mario & Luigi for the sheer fact that they've gotten in his way at every turn. He is very ambitious, selfish, and power-hungry by nature but he is not a murderer.

Furthermore, I don't believe Fawful really truly knew what he was dealing with when it came to the Dark Star. You could argue that his arrogance when it came to thinking he could handle an ancient evil and even fully control it for his own ends is what ultimately led to his demise.

Fawful likely heard of the legend of how whoever took the Dark Star would "rule the world" and that's where his focus was as a result - not on anything worse. He's a genius, but he absolutely still had his oversights.

These are my personal thoughts based on in-game observations and just knowing what I do about Fawful, though. I hope it helps answer your question at least a little bit?

[chaotic-archaeologist]

hey reid!

I have a question for you: I am currently employed by my university as student assistant in the department of ancient history and there is a union (that one of my friends/colleagues is a part of) that is planning a strike for better wages and general working conditions in autumn (across the country).

The thing is, I'd love to participate but I am scared that if not all student assistants in the DoAH will participate, this will reflect badly on me as a worker. Since our department is very small, we all know each other and part of getting a job (or keeping it for that matter) is being noticed by the teachers/professors. One of them is the teacher that I would like to write my BA thesis under (she's also my boss and got me this job because she noticed me in one of her classes)

I am afraid that if my friend and I are the only ones going on strike in our department we won't be considered for another job/get our contracts renewed because the professors will remember us as 'causing trouble'

So basically, I guess what I wanted to ask was how to get over this fear because I would really like to keep this job/maybe get offered another/more jobs later on?

First things first, I can't tell you what to do here. At the end of the day, you're the one who will have to live with those consequences.

What I will say is this: all of the doubts you're having are 1) valid, and 2) what institutions are banking on to keep you from unionizing. The last 12 months have shown huge successes for large scale education unions. That only happened because people were willing to participate. Yes, sometimes that means putting your neck on the line.

You know what you can do to make sure you and your friend aren't the only ones in your department to strike? Unionize the other workers in your department!

If you decide to strike, make sure that you are actually part of the union that is doing so. Does it cover undergraduate student assistants, or is this a grad student thing? If you qualify, great, join up, pay your dues, and go on strike. If you can't join this union, you don't have to strike but you shouldn't cross picket lines. You can and should also donate to the union's strike fund to support striking workers.

The Institution is your enemy here, not the department or individual professors. I've worked for profs who would be understanding if I told them I was going on strike. (Honestly, I'm not sure I'd want to work for someone who insisted I work through a strike, but that's my own personal preference.) This professor has noticed you, and hopefully that positive opinion will remain even if you strike.

It sounds like you're aware of both the risks and benefits of striking in this scenario, and now you have to make a difficult decision. I'll close this by saying a little solidarity goes a long way.

-Reid

[bluerose5]

Their Perfect Oasis

Prompt fill from discord for Maxwell Trevelyan/Dorian Pavus. Turned out longer than I expected (because of course it did) but hope y'all enjoy! Click the title to read on ao3. 💙

Summary:

All Dorian wanted, at first, was his book back.

The last thing he expected was for Maxwell Trevelyan to spoil him with an afternoon together.

~~~

Maxwell Trevelyan had always been quick on his feet.

There Dorian was one afternoon, minding his own business while he combed through tome after tome in the Inquisition’s library. Their meager collection had few works that he deemed to be of any noteworthy academic merit, let alone worthy of his time to read, but some proved interesting enough to add to his ever-growing pile of books.

What they found during their travels typically turned out to be far more interesting, ancient ruins filled to the brim with anecdotal accounts and mysterious artifacts. While he left most of the elven stuff for Solas to study, there was still so much to review in between his own research.

He was going through all that he had gathered on the connections between rift magic and time magic when his beloved Inquisitor made his appearance.

“There you are,” Maxwell greeted.

Although he tried to put on an air of indifference, Dorian ended up smiling in spite of himself.

“Where I always am around this time of day,” he said, not once looking away from the scroll he had spread out over his pitiful excuse of desk, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Not that he was all that focused anyways, it being near impossible to pay attention with Maxwell around.

After he pressed a kiss to Dorian’s cheek, Dorian quickly turned to scour through his and Alexius’s old notes, more so to hide his now-flustered expression.

Warmth spread throughout his cheeks at Maxwell’s low chuckle.

“Looking as stunning as always,” Maxwell breathed, his words overflowing with a reverence that made Dorian’s heart skip a beat. 

“Was that ever in question?” Dorian countered.

Maxwell pressed himself flush against his side, a hand braced upon the table as he leaned in to brush his lips along the shell of Dorian's ear.

"Never," he replied. Dorian’s fingers froze when he started to shuffle through the pages, but he could hear the smirk in Max's voice, clear as day. "Am I distracting you?"

Dorian shook his head, more so to clear his mind than to answer the question.

"I—No, of course not! I was just—"

"Then, let me try a little harder."

Without warning, Maxwell disappeared from his side.

One second, he was snuggled up to Dorian. Then, the next, he was leaning against the wall near the staircase, a book in hand that he pretended to flip through. He studied Dorian, eyes alight with mischief, but the latter watched him skeptically, arms crossed over his chest.

"What are you doi—" Dorian started to ask, but it was in that exact moment that he processed what book Maxwell held.

It was almost comical, how his head snapped towards the desk, then back towards Maxwell, then to the desk again.

Maxwell pinched one of the book's corners, allowing it to dangle precariously.

Oh, the horror. To have a work so highly disrespected.

Dorrian huffed.

"What?" Maxwell teased, attempting to sound innocent but ultimately failing, way too pleased with himself for his own good. "Need something?"

"Well, now that you mention it," Dorian sighed, "it has come to my attention that I am indeed missing a book."

"You don't say."

"Mm-hmm…" Dorian took a step forward, but Maxwell mirrored him easily enough, one foot positioned on the next step. "A book vital to my research, in fact. One that I would very much like back."

"Ah, and what would you be willing to do for this book, I wonder."

"Name your price."

The next step down was more purposeful, the way Maxwell shifted his weight. 

Understanding dawned on Dorian then.

"Maxwell," he warned, pointing a finger in his direction, "I am not chasing after you."

Maxwell simply beamed at him in response. He tucked the book underneath his arm, pressed tightly against his side.

"I'll make it worth your while," he promised.

"I'll make it worth yours if you just— Well, and there he goes," Dorian grumbled.

The madman didn't even hesitate to dart off down the stairs.

"Max!" Dorian called out, forgetting where he was for a second. 

Teasing laughter rang out in a slight echo that traveled throughout the tower. A few unimpressed glances were tossed their way, but Dorian ignored them.

Tapping his foot upon the floor, he shook his head in disbelief.

"I am not going to chase him," he told himself. "I am not…"

Down below, he could hear Maxwell say, "Hi, Solas! Bye, Solas!" as he escaped into the throne room. Not that Solas had much time to mumble out an amused greeting of his own, the Inquisitor there and gone in the blink of an eye.

Time was wasting, but Dorian’s curiosity eventually got the better of him.

He paused his mantra, bottom lip poked out into an exaggerated pout.

"Vishante kaffas," he swore, approaching the staircase. "Okay, and now I'm chasing after you."

The things he did for that man.

He followed after him at a brisk walk, not a run!

He had to retain some semblance of dignity after all.

It was bad enough that he had to put up with Solas's knowing stare as he passed through the rotunda, so it seemed that Dorian would suffer even the greatest torments for Maxwell’s sake.

Whatever he had planned better be worth all the effort.

When Varric heard his entrance into the main hall, he didn't even so much as look up from his writings. Instead, he simply jabbed his thumb in the direction of the doors, Dorian smiling sheepishly before continuing on his way.

Once outside, Dorian caught a split-second glimpse of Max on his way towards the stables, but Dorian saw the bait for what it was. He knew all too well that, if Maxwell truly wanted to elude him, then he would have done so by now. Either that, or he would have melted away into the shadows, only to be seen when it was his moment to strike.

Dorian had to admit, part of him actually enjoyed this little game of theirs. He knew it to be playful, all intended in good faith, and he absolutely adored how Max loved to tease him.

It would make "catching him" all the more rewarding.

However, as things turned out, he didn't even have to catch him, not when Maxwell came to him instead.

Rushing down the remaining stairs and through the courtyards, Dorian stopped short when he heard the clomping of a horse’s hooves draw closer.

With a tug on the horses’ reins, Maxwell guided two of the Inquisition’s best mounts to a stop in front of him. Both of them were of sturdy, dependable builds with slick, glossy coats, one brown and the other black.

When they shifted to a halt, Maxwell fed them some apple slices from their packs, then turned to beam at Dorian.

“After you, my dear,” Max said, his hand outstretched to him.

“What?” Dorian asked, eyebrow raised in question. “Are we going for a ride?”

“How observant of you to notice,” Maxwell teased, “but, yes, we are. I have a surprise for you.”

“A gift?” Dorian pressed. “My, my, I do love being spoiled, especially by you.”

“Then, you’ll love this,” he said. His expression gentled, causing a swarm of butterflies to flutter around within Dorian’s chest. “I promise.”

Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, Dorian coughed quietly under his breath to clear it.

“Right,” he said. He nodded at the closest horse, the one that stood as black as night. “I’ll take this one.”

“A fine horse for a pretty man,” Max praised.

“The prettiest,” Dorian corrected.

Placing his hand into Maxwell’s, he hoisted himself up into the horse’s saddle. Not that he needed the assistance, but he could hardly turn down such an offer from Max. He adjusted his weight around to get comfortable while Maxwell mounted the other horse with ease.

Dorian froze into place when he glanced over, only to become tongue-tied at the very sight of him.

Back in the library, the lighting had been muted enough —and everything had happened so quickly— that Dorian didn’t really get a good look at him before.

Now, it was as if he was seeing him clearly for the first time.

Sunlight washed over him in a wave of gold, each feature emphasized with the attention reserved for the most revered religious icons. Dorian wouldn’t be surprised if they were already carving statues in his honor, devoted to reproducing every last detail to perfection.

Perched upon his horse, Maxwell held himself upright with the utmost confidence.

Warm, sun-kissed skin soaked up the afternoon rays. Brown hair was carefully slicked back, teasing glances beckoning Dorian to follow him to the ends of the world itself. Maxwell inspired a loyalty influenced by a power greater than a siren’s song, a loyalty that might even lead them to their eventual demise, a fate accepted in stride so long as Dorian could remain by his side.

Maxwell circled his horse around him, and Dorian couldn’t help but wonder if the posturing was intentional.

After all, he had certainly cleaned up for—for whatever this was.

Gone were those tasteless rags of his, those drab, brown pajamas hopefully tossed out of his wardrobe for good.

In their place, Maxwell wore a blue shirt, crafted of the finest silk that shimmered lightly through each shift of his chest. The top few buttons were left undone, revealing a golden chain nestled around his throat and hanging down between his pecs. Black, form-fitting pants accentuated the shape of his legs, hugging Maxwell’s hips and thighs. The fabric was tucked into a pair of black, leather boots, designed for both style and comfort.

Dorian had to admit, he was impressed.

All of that, and he didn’t even have to lift a finger to help.

Safe to say, Maxwell took his breath away.

Younger Dorian, who spent his days reading and fantasizing about handsome, heroic princes from far-off lands, positively swooned at the sight before him.

Not that current Dorian was faring much better.

He swallowed thickly as he watched Max, his lips parted in awe.

Maxwell, oblivious to Dorian’s appraisal —or, perhaps, acutely aware of it— flashed him a blinding smile.

"Race you!" he stated.

With a slight flick of the reins and a click of his tongue, the horse sped up into a steady trot towards the drawbridge. People maneuvered around them both, steering clear of their path.

It was hard to ignore all of the stares they were attracting; but, for once, Dorian was inclined to let them look.

He had the most amazing man in Thedas all to himself, and that was all that mattered.

Catching up to him, Dorian feigned an annoyed grumble.

"A rather unfair challenge, don't you think?" Dorian asked. "Considering the fact that you know the way to our destination while I am left in the dark, following on blind faith alone."

Maxwell hummed in contemplation, drinking in the sight of Dorian from head to toe, which was fair. Dorian had certainly gotten his fill of Max. The latter deserved to marvel in the excellence of his resident altus.

And if Dorian happened to sit up a bit straighter under the weight of that appreciative gaze, head held high with pride…

Well, that would remain between the two of them.

Voice warm and low, Maxwell leaned in and told him, "Try to keep up then."

Without warning, he took off into a galloping pace, a hearty laugh left in his wake.

Once again, Dorian was left chasing after him, ringing out with his own laughter in turn.

"Oh, you're delightful!" Dorian called out over the whipping winds, quickly gaining on Maxwell’s position, only a couple of paces behind.

Together, they rode through the mountainside until the blank canvas of white gave way to snow-covered flora. Icicles hung like crystals from bare branches, capturing sunlight, only to cast it out in an array of colors.

Thankfully, Dorian had little time to even think about the cold, let alone fixate upon it.

Eventually, they arrived at the edge of a clearing. Maxwell slowed to a stop, far enough from Skyhold to grant them some privacy yet close enough to be back a moment’s notice, should they be needed.

While Dorian didn't think himself to be much of a praying man, he happily prayed then that they not be needed. Not anytime soon, at least.

After Maxwell jumped down from his horse, he approached Dorian’s side without missing a beat. Offering his hand out again, Dorian gladly took it, allowing Maxwell to help him down to his feet.

They stood there for a second, chest to chest, while all of the world and its problems melted away into the background.

"Well," Maxwell said, "looks like I won the race."

"You don't say," Dorian hummed. Gentle fingers combed through Max's hair, coaxing any strays back into place. "I never would have guessed."

"Mm-hmm…"

They stole glances at each other's lips.

Maxwell tugged him closer by the waist, Dorian’s arms wrapped around his neck.

Their noses brushed ever so slightly.

"Tell me," Dorian whispered. "What prize does the illustrious Inquisitor desire for his well-earned victory?"

By then, their lips were barely a hair’s width away.

"A kiss from a certain someone would suffice, but that must wait, I'm afraid." Their lips had only just grazed against one another when their warmth disappeared entirely. Dorian's breath was stolen from him as Maxwell pulled away, placing a careful distance between them both. "All in due time, handsome."

"Hmph, you're such a tease," Dorian huffed, albeit with no real heat to his voice.

"It'll be worth it," Maxwell reminded him. He even had the audacity to wink at him. "I'll make it up to you later."

"You better."

"I swear. Now, close your eyes."

"Seriously?" Dorian scoffed.

"Please," Maxwell said. "For me?"

Well, when he put it like that…

"Oh, alright, fine!" Dorian closed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're lucky you're so cute."

Maxwell only chuckled in response.

Dorian listened closely while he coaxed the horses away with soft murmurs. His footsteps faded off into the distance, but logic told Dorian that it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before he returned.

Didn't stop those few minutes from feeling like an eternity.

Maxwell took him by the hands and led him forward.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready for what, exactly?" Dorian wondered.

"You'll find out. All I ask is that you keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them."

"Not cryptic at all."

Nevertheless, he followed, trusting Maxwell with his life.

Dorian spoke to fill the ensuing silence.

"You know, we should have ridden double," Dorian stated. "Like in the stories! The ones where the protagonist whisks the love interest away on horseback, arms wrapped tightly around them as they ride off into the sunset together."

Max snorted. "But of course. One small problem, though."

"And what is that?"

"As lovely as the idea is, horses can only support so much before you start to risk injury to them or yourself, and I, for one, was not going to be on the receiving end of Master Dennet's anger for hurting one of his precious babies."

"Fair enough," Dorian conceded, sighing dramatically. "Foolish books, giving me unrealistic expectations of romance."

"Heh, hopefully this will make up for it."

Snow crunched beneath their feet until, surprisingly, it stopped.

Before Dorian could question him about it, Maxwell beat him to the punch.

"Just a little farther, and…" Maxwell trailed off. He took Dorian by the shoulders and arranged him into position. Strangely enough, Dorian felt the cold wash away. In its place, a wave of heat enveloped them, but Maxwell hardly sounded shocked by this development. "There!" He released him. "Now, open your eyes."

Dorian didn’t have to be told twice.

He squinted, blinking past the relentless daylight, and eventually managed to pry his eyes open.

What awaited them was unlike anything he had expected.

It was a scene plucked right out of a fairytale.

Without thinking, Dorian placed a hand over his racing heart.

“Wow,” he gasped. “This is amazing.”

Even then, that was the understatement of the century.

The clearing that Maxwell brought him to was secluded; however, more than that, it had the thriving appearance of a meadow in spring. A large, square area was protected from the harsh winter snow. Lush, green grass sprouted all over, sprinkled with patches of colorful wildflowers that danced in the occasional breeze.

In the center of it all, a blanket was spread out. And upon that blanket, there sat a basket, alongside Dorian’s long-forgotten book.

Streams of golden light filtered through the nearby branches, reflecting off of tiny motes that glided through the air.

Their horses were secured to a tree close by, grazing happily amongst the fresh grass.

It was their own little oasis, surrounded by a cold desert.

After another speechless moment to really soak it all in, Dorian was finally able to catch his breath.

“Maxwell.” He turned to him, incredulous. “How did you manage to do all of this?”

He waved his arms grandly at the setting before them, twirling in place.

Pleased with his reaction, Maxwell shrugged, uncharacteristically bashful, as he glanced around.

“I might have asked Dagna for a favor,” he said, nodding at each of the square’s four corners. “The work of runes. They ward off the cold and ‘any critters or creepy crawlies,’ as she explained it. Kind of like a mixture of fire runes for warmth and protective sigils to keep the wildlife at bay.”

“Makes sense,” Dorian breathed, once again impressed with the quality of her work. “Remind me to thank her later.”

“We both will,” Maxwell assured him, then admitted, “I had actually wanted to bring you sooner, but I needed to position the runes just right. Then, after that, it was basically a waiting game for the snow to melt and the mud to dry up.”

So, he had been working on this for a while then.

Dorian smiled at him tenderly.

“Thank you,” he said.

Maxwell chuckled.

“You haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

“You mean, there’s more?”

“Of course.” Taking Dorian’s hand in his, Maxwell bowed slightly at the waist to press a kiss upon the back of it. His lips lingered, eyes trained on Dorian the entire time. “Will you dine with me, Serah Pavus?”

“I’d be honored to.”

Eager to see what else he had in store for him, Dorian all but dragged him over to the blanket. Maxwell, ever the gentleman, helped him get seated before joining him at his side.

Dorian didn’t so much as hesitate before snuggling up to him.

Maxwell tossed him a grin and opened up the basket.

A whiff of warm spices instantly greeted them. Dorian’s mouth watered. His stomach grumbled.

The scent was a familiar one, one that reminded him of home, but he didn’t dare get his hopes up, trying his best to sneak a peek.

“So, what’s on the menu today?” he asked.

“I made us lamb curry,” Maxwell answered, casual as can be.

Dorian choked at that.

“Wait, what?”

“I said that I made—”

“I heard what you said, but you cooked?” Dorian stammered. “For me?”

“Was I not supposed to do that?” Maxwell deadpanned. 

“I— No! I mean, it’s just that…” Dorian blew out a frustrated breath, at a loss for words. “Surely, you have more important things to do than wait on me, hand and foot. You must be incredibly busy.”

“Not busy enough to neglect spending time with you. I know you’ve been homesick,” Maxwell stated, his brow furrowed in concern. He reached out and cupped Dorian’s cheek, brushing his thumb along the curve of it. “I know it’s not the same, but I wanted you to feel a little bit at home. Here, with me.”

Dorian melted into his touch, releasing a shaky breath.

“Damn it. You’re going to make me cry at this rate,” he informed him. Already, he could feel a slight sting building at the corner of his eyes. He blinked past the burn of unshed tears. Carefully, he wiped at them before they could fall. “Stop it. I have an image to uphold, you know.”

Maxwell snickered.

“Of course. Here.” He reached into the basket and unearthed a bottle, cradled with the utmost care. “Something to cheer you up.”

Dorian didn’t even have to read the label to know what it was.

“You got us an Antivan Red imported in?” he asked. “Out here? Don’t even get me started on the spices that you had to get for that curry, Inquisitor.”

“Leliana and I might have pulled some strings,” Maxwell said.

“Of course you did.” Dorian playfully glared at him, the bottle hugged close to his chest. “Okay, out with it.”

“Out with what?” Maxwell questioned. He cocked his head to the side.

“What’s the special occasion?” Dorian countered. “My guess is that you’re either going to propose, or you’re going to ask to fool around out here in the middle of the woods, where anyone could happen upon us.”

“The real question is, would you even say yes to either of those options?”

Dorian thought it over, then shrugged.

“Ask me after my third glass.”

Once he opened it, he shamelessly took a swig from the bottle, comfortable enough to ignore decorum when they were all alone.

Maxwell passed him two glasses, which he filled up generously. In the meantime, Max worked on uncovering their dish, still steaming with warmth over a bed of rice.

“Want to try a bite?” he asked.

Scooping up a heaping portion with his fork, he held it out in offering.

As if Dorian would refuse.

“I’d love to.���

The instant Dorian wrapped his lips around the fork, he swore that he transcended to a whole other plane of existence.

Now, usually when he read fiction, the premise of someone moaning over their food was always eye roll-inducing at best.

However, after trying Maxwell’s cooking, he was a changed man.

The richness of the base, the tenderness of the lamb, the warmth of the spices…

All of it came together perfectly.

“Oh,” he purred, “you, my good sir, are a god amongst men.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Maxwell teased.

He took his glass of wine from Dorian and raised it between them.

They stared into each other’s eyes while he made his toast.

“To us,” he whispered.

They clinked their glasses together.

“To us,” Dorian agreed, as they both took a more tentative sip to savor the taste.

The light, fruity notes complimented their dish well. An exquisite pairing that lingered on the palate, but not that he expected anything less from Max.

Once again, Dorian found himself stealing glimpses of Maxwell’s lips.

“You know this will cause people to talk,” he said.

“Compared to usual,” Maxwell replied, his sarcasm deafening, “when they remain absolutely silent about the two of us?”

“You know what I mean.” Dorian snuggled closer, his lips quirked up into a smirk. “You ran off to some secluded location with that dastardly Tevinter magister.” He rolled his eyes at the misuse of the title. “Maker have mercy!” He raised his voice in pitch, mimicking a tone of fright and scandal. “Will our beloved Inquisitor return the same? How are we sure that madman isn’t conducting some sinister ritual in secret, sacrificing the blood of goats and virgins in the name of the Black Divine?”

“Hmm…” Maxwell hummed with a pointed look around the clearing. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t think there are any goats around.” He snorted. “Or virgins, I’m afraid.”

“Alas,” Dorian sighed, “I guess that we’ll have to make do without.”

“Cast your magic then. I’d happily fall under your spell.”

“You’re terrible.”

Using his free hand, Dorian curled his finger around Maxwell’s chain, tugging him closer until their lips brushed.

Maxwell swallowed thickly.

“Kiss me,” Dorian whispered. “Please, I—”

Whatever he was going to say, Maxwell cut him off in an instant. Their lips crashed against one another, pleading, desperate. They gasped for breath, only to reclaim the kiss with renewed fervor.

Dorian didn’t know how long they stayed there, lost in the moment and the feel of each other.

Part of him wanted so badly to remain there forever, but all good things must come to an end, or so people said.

Eventually, they parted.

Maxwell rested his forehead against Dorian’s while they struggled to compose themselves.

The words slipped free before Dorian could even process them.

“Are we sure that I’m not dreaming right now?”

“If you are,” Maxwell answered, stealing a swift peck, “then promise not to wake up, because I don’t ever want this dream to end.”

Dorian smiled into the next kiss.

“Neither do I.”