#and how even though there will be unkind and cruel people it is not wrong to be kind in the face of that

[orangeisthecolorofblood]

i love natsume yuujinchou so much but also reading it does feel like someone has carefully pried your heart out of your chest and cracked it open like a pomegranate, and is now gently, adoringly, cradling it in their hands in front of you

[pagodazz]

ehtan i need to know ur thoughts about the fairmount mt4 right now..... im mainly thinkin abt fairmount evan/habit but im curious if u have anythoughts about them

Okay so... my thoughts... if you want specific hcs for specific scenarios plz tell me bc this is just a big rant I'm sorry 😭😭😭

alot of people seem to have the idea that fairmount Evan/habit don't like Vinnie/ would bully him or be mean to him and I need to say that's literally so far from being close to canon. The only person that it's even slightly hinted at him being unkind to is steph (IF you wanna take maryanns word for it for awhile I thought this was James but rereading it again I was like ohh it's his wife. I genuinely don't think ev/habit was this malicious)

also if you're curious on why Fairmount Ev/habit are put together it's bc habit is something that Evans mom called him and was considered a "nick name"

As seen here aswell Vinnie takes Evan to go play which immediately gets him pinned as some sort of "deflector" like he doesn't care about Steph but in reality we know that Vinnie DOES care, this is just his form of coping.

Ev/Habit are best friends with Vinnie and even in his worst moments he only has good things to say about habit which just shows how close they are and how much Vinnie loves him. Vinnie is the only one in the letters besides Evans mother to call him habit. corenthal refuses to do it but Vinnie always refers to Evan as habit.

Habit and Vinnie are almost always playing together. they adore each other. I don't think you could separate them from each other honestly. I think Evan/habit would probably do something violent or snap and get a aggressive but never towards Vinnie it'd be towards the other kids and Vinnie would have to be the one to calm him down seeing that Vinnie is always the one trying to help people feel better.

I do think he could maybe accidentally do something mean to Vinnie but if Vinnie were to cry he'd panic and try and do anything he can to make him feel better.

I think Fairmount Evan/habit still have their massive sweet tooth and is basically a giant fiend for any type of candy. He just LOVES sugar. Give it to him NOW. don't even TRY to eat any candy near him he's gonna ask for some and you WILL have to give it to him or he WILL stab you.

Evan was given a camera in the letters and he goes around taking a bunch of pictures of everything and I think he probably sleeps with that camera near him at ALL TIMES and if one of the others were to break it or take it he would have a total meltdown.

He is just a big lovable goofball of a kid, he definitely is super affectionate and wants hugs all the time. Even though he is portrayed to be "cruel" to Steph, they're still best friends. Evan loves all of them so fucking much. That's his family and it'll always be his family since he was practically stolen from his other one. He probably misses his mom so much, he just wants to be with his mom and hug his mom and tell her he loves her and that he's never gonna do anything wrong again and he promises to be good, just please don't send him back to the home. But he's stuck with the corenthals who almost view him as this wicked boy. Yes they love him, but they're so quick to judge him.

Now onto Fairmont Vinnie I feel like I kinda need to give a bit of a tw? for talk of CSA? I promise to do it tastefully tho since I myself am a victim of it.

Alot of people almost view Vinnie as so prescious and innocent but they don't seem to understand he has his innocence stolen from him, he's simply just still a child. He was able to ignore his emotions and push them aside in order to be there for everyone else in his life. What happened to Vinnie was not a one time thing. It lasted over a year. Vinnie's parents kept dropping him off there and left him alone with the reverend and didn't care about it at all until the reverend was found DEAD. and instead of trying to take care of Vinnie themselves they sent him to a home where they had no doctors who specialized in his specific trauma. He must've felt so isolated and his only solace was the few friends, especially Evan/Habit and man. Always Man. Man is a protector to him, man doesn't want to share him and Vinnie KNEW this. Man TOLD him this. Vinnie was not "saved" by him however. What Slenderman did was not an act of kindness it was an act of jealousy.

Vinnie is said that he draws to get out his emotions and I feel like he definitely has drawn pictures of him and Captain habit and also slenderman together, his only true friends.

Vinnie is unfortunately a unsettling little boy, he doesn't interact as normally as he should and he just can't help it. It's probably alot easier for him to try and isolate himself than it is to ask for help or support. But he always perks up when he gets to talk about playing pirates, even after the trauma his love for it never went away. I like to think he got to keep his toy ship. I think alot of people would think he wouldn't wanna keep something from such a traumatic day but I think otherwise. The reverend was eviscerated, it must've been such a relief for him. It's said that he was calm and happy when he was found and I can only imagine that he was probably told to go into the next room and play or maybe habit was able to come over and he played with Vinnie for a bit until right before Vinnie's parents show up. That toy probably brings Vinnie so much comfort and a sense of safety.

I think both him and Steph are mute, but Vinnie is a selective mute. He talks when he wants to but if he doesn't feel like it. Steph however is completely mute. she doesn't talk at all maybe unless she really has to.

She would probably only ever talk to the other 3 of the group. This group functions together completely. They are almost like a hive mind sometimes. They're so deeply connected and so intertwined.

They act out together, and it drains them so much they can't help but just need to be alone. These are just babies who are suffering so much and they're unfortunately in a home that doesn't really know how to help them, and of course James wants to help but he can't help but judge them too.

When all the kids get killed, Vinnie is the only body not found. He was not there, he was taken away. It was probably so painful for him because he loved them so much, but he knows deep down his loyalties lie with habit and Slenderman..

these are my babies... I love them so much and they deserved to be taken care of and given the help they deserved and not just to be like a couple of lab rats to make a perfect family just bc James corenthal couldn't have his own children with his wife.... it's so UGH. I love James but man is he way too harsh on these kids. I think maybe if he were to love evan/habit more... if he was able to accept habit despite the violence he's committed... things could've been different... maybe if habit got shown love sooner.... idk.... maybe he wouldn't be as irredeemable as he is now. Habit just unfortunately has the biggest case of mommy and adoptive daddy issues he can't help that he's so evil 😔😔💔💔💔💔💔

The fact James only ever acknowledged Evan instead of Habit is probably another reason that habit hates James so much...

oh and I almost forgot... Jeff is definitely just as mopey and sad as he was on the series but when he's playing with the group he's got more energy than Evan. And by GOD!!! IS THIS BOY A SWEETHEART 😭😭😭😭 he is so fucking traumatized but he tries his best to be so sweet. He's honestly probably stuck feeling younger than he is because of what happened to him and it was the only way he could really cope. and he definitely adored his little army soldier... like Evan loves his camera.. like Vinnie loves his ship... and i think like Steph would love her art. She's always gonna be an artist and I love that for her. She expresses herself so beautifully.

ANYWAYS uh post over I'm so sorry this probably makes 0 sense.

have some songs for them tho

Evan:

Vinnie:

Steph:

Jeff:

okay bye

[sophsicle]

UHM PLS DROP THE ORIGINAL JAMES BREAK DOWN SCENE PLSSS

mmmmmk

tw explicit sexual content

tw panic attack

alternative chap 20. James POV

James opens his eyes, a strangely powerful wave of desire burning through him. He looks up at Regulus, cheeks so pink, lips wet, he hasn’t taken his hand off of James, and doesn’t, even when James reaches out, wrapping his own fingers around Regulus’s. They’re moving together. Stroking him off together. Eyes locked. It’s the hottest most intense fucking thing James has ever experienced. His breath coming faster as every inch of his skin tingles and crackles under Regulus’s gaze. Under his weight. His touch. The feeling building and pushing. It’s unbearable. It’s taking him apart. 

Oh god.

Oh god.

I love you so much.

I wish you could love me back.

I wish you didn’t want to hide us. I wish I didn’t scare you—

“You’ve worked so hard for this, and it makes you so happy, and I’m scared. I’m scared that you could lose it all. I’m scared of what that’ll do to you. I’m scared of all the hatred I can’t protect you from. This world is so cruel and so unkind and I’m so fucking scared for you.” 

The shift in emotions is disorienting. And suddenly the overwhelmingly good is getting all tangled in the overwhelmingly bad. He’s never experienced anything like it before, this horrible sick feeling rocking through him. It’s wrong. Everything in him is wrong. Panic rising in his chest as the things him and Regulus aren’t talking about wrap around his neck. Squeezing. Squeezing. Squeezing. And he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. Shit. He can’t breathe. 

“James?” 

He hears his name distantly. The world suddenly very blurry and hard to hold and it’s not that he can’t see but also he can’t. 

“James? James?” he feels Regulus’s hands cupping his face, the warmth of them, the tremble, and somehow that helps. He brings his own hands up, covering Regulus’s, holding them in place. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” James’s voice is disjointed, cracked. He isn’t supposed to be like this. He’s supposed to make Regulus feel safe. He can’t crumble. He’ll never stay if you fall apart. You’re no good to anyone broken. James Potter is meant to be whole. Solid. He holds up the roof. 

“No don’t—it’s okay,” Regulus is saying. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” Regulus does not sound remotely okay though, and it’s James’s fault. 

“Sorry, fuck Reg I’m so—“ he can’t finish that sentence, squeezing his eyes shut. Regulus tries to pull his hands away put James holds them more tightly. “No please, please I’ll—I’ll be better. Sorry. Sorry just give me a second and I’ll—“ 

“James—“ 

“Please don’t be scared of me—“ 

“Scared of you?” 

“You said people care, about this, about…But do you care?”

“I can do this. Please believe me.” 

“James, I—I love you.”

“You need to take a deep breath—James? Can you—Are you listening to me? I need you to breathe okay?” 

“But do you care?”

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me again.” 

“It’s—I don’t…understand it.”

“Is this about the party? I shouldn’t have—James I shouldn’t have left you that night. Not like that. I—“ 

“Please, please. I’ll be okay. I’ll be better. Just believe in me.” 

“James—“ 

“I’ve never not understood you before.”

It’s all blurring together in his head. His father walking away from the table. Regulus leaving his bedroom. He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about any of it right now. Now that Regulus is finally here. But for how long? How long is he ever here for? Regulus finally manages to pull his hands out from under James’s grip, and James covers his face with his arms, still trying to breathe. He doesn’t want to be seen like this.

A second later he feels an arm sliding carefully under his back. He goes tense at first, until Regulus gives him a little tug, pulling James towards him. James buries his face in Regulus’s chest, Regulus squeezing him tight. “I got you,” he says, even though his voice shakes a little. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” 

But for how long?  

James pushes the thought aside. Breathing Regulus in, hands tangling in his shirt. He tries to listen to his heartbeat, tries to match his breathing to that. Tries not to think about how monumentally he has just screwed everything up. Ruined Regulus’s first time. He’d wanted to make this good. He’d wanted to make this so easy for Regulus. So comfortable. God, what the fuck is wrong with him? 

James’s breathing starts to settle, and Regulus shuffles so he can get the blankets around them, tucking James in, his hand moving up and down James’s back. It’s another few minutes before James is able to make himself speak, pulling away slightly so that they’re looking at one another, heads on the same pillow. 

“Reg, I’m so sorry.” 

Regulus shakes his head. “Don’t be,” and then, weak smile: “Honestly it’s kind of nice to know I’m not the only one.” 

James’s brow furrows. “The only one?” 

“Who loses it sometimes,” and then: “Who can’t handle all of this.” 

James’s chest squeezes at the idea that they’re something Regulus has to handle. But then, he supposes he has a point. “No, you’re not the only one,” he croaks. They lie like that for a little longer, quiet, still. Regulus’s eyes staring right at him in a way they so rarely do, so that James finds he’s the one looking away. 

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Regulus asks finally. “Did I—“ his voice cuts out and then, taking in a stuttering breath. “Did I do something?” 

James’s eyes go wide. “Woah no, Regulus no. I was—that was like, super hot.” 

Regulus smiles even as his cheeks fill with colour.  

[podcastenthusiast]

Reflections on family (Or: I gave Astarion even more father issues which says nothing about me personally nope)

--

They are not unkind, the Ancunins, your still-living family. Stilted, formal, like you're strangers--which you suppose you are at this point, yes. But they invite you into their home knowing full well that you could not enter if they so wished it. A show of trust for which you are grateful.

If this were a bard's tale, they would lead you to a musty room unchanged for two centuries, a lovingly kept shrine to a past you barely recall, the promising young man you once were. You would unearth artifacts of yourself. They would embrace you as you are now, public reputation be dammed, because you were missed and you are valued.

But this is not that story, so instead you are taken to the parlor--with its faded carpet that reminds you unpleasantly of your former home--where you pretend to sip tea across from your aged father and younger brother. Conversation is awkward and strained. You can charm people almost effortlessly, but being here is like talking to a chasm; the silence fills an unbridgeable gap in time.

You're told your mother died fifty years ago of a weak heart. You saw her portrait in the foyer. Apparently you used to have her eyes. You get the sinking sense that they're relieved she did not live to see your monstrous return from the dead.

Your brother is the one to finally ask. How it happened. Where you were all those years you didn't come home.

You tell them about Cazador.

"This calls for something stronger than tea, I think," your father says.

"Please," you agree.

They struggle to look at you. Their expressions remain a careful mask of polite neutrality except for occasional flickers of sadness, fear, guilt, anger. Disgust.

Well, if they want to play it like that, fine. You can wear a mask better than anyone.

Your family are not warm. They are not outright cold toward you, either. Never cruel or pitying. You almost wish they were. The familiarity would at least make it sting less.

Two hundred years lost. How can there be so little to say to each other?

You don't blame them, of course. To lose a son or brother violently, to grieve him, must be an unspeakable tragedy. To gain a vampire spawn, well... that is nothing other than an ill omen to add to the family's already waning fortune.

It is exactly what you'd come to expect of the dark place Cazador showed you the world could be. All you thought possible before you saw the sun again and dared to hope for more.

You leave the manor feeling quite like an unwanted ghost exorcised from their lives. It's closure of a sort for them, you suppose. You are just an untended grave in their eyes. Never mind that you had been hoping for a new beginning.

You regret making this journey alone.

Soon, though, you return to the arms of your dearest love.

"How did it go?" she asks.

"It was..."

You think about your darling who saved you. You think about your handful of tadpole-forged friendships--Karlach, and Wyll, Lae'zel, even Gale. You think about your siblings, the other spawn, bonded through shared blood none of you chose.

"Astarion?"

"It doesn't matter," you say dismissively. "I didn't find my family there."

"Hmm."

She's writing something, a while later.

"Composing another ballad?" you wonder.

"No. I'm writing a letter to Dalyria."

"What? Why?"

You had no idea they even correspond.

"Because I think you need a hug from your sister."

Perhaps she isn't wrong, but still, it seems like a lot of effort to go through just for that. For you.

"She's very busy," you protest.

"Then she'll make time. That's what family does."

You don't know what to say. Something in your chest uncoils; you're filled with warmth like fresh blood, an emotion akin to gratitude. Something you haven't felt so strongly in a very long time.

You feel wanted. Loved.

[ochrearia]

I love that my synesthesia is something I get to apply to people and characters because of how I think make no mistake the type that I have is simply a hearing-sight blend that I can't control in my brain so I see shapes and colors from things I hear and mine works with music mainly though laughter and the wind also triggers it. It's just a quirk of my own way of thinking that lets me apply this to people and characters that I love. Music's already a big part of me and somewhere along the line I decided "You know what? Sound is like a second language to me already, instrumentals and music speaking in a way that vocal word can't, and who's to say I can't take in everything I've learned about a person, what makes them tick, what makes them who they are, their actions, thoughts, feelings, take all of those and create the concept of a soul by perceiving it all wrapped into one as a song that I have in my online libraries?" And that's what I do. Now let me go the fuck off about Pico Newgrounds because make no mistake I'm not an expert on this idiot but from what I personally see of him and what he can become with a nudge in the right or wrong direction is so. Wonderful to me

Now I have mentioned this before and I have even painted this and driven the point in that it's him but this is the song that Pico sounds like to me

And I think it's important for me to go into detail about something right off the bat. I am a firm believer in the idea that your trauma does NOT equal who you are. And by that I mean it can be a piece, or pieces, that help shape you and push you in directions that change yourself but it, to me, will never be You. There is ALWAYS more to a person than the shit they've gone through, more to a person than the shit they struggle with and have to live with as a result of a terrible event. Sorry to drop some wild Ochre lore here but My anxiety disorder, my past abusive relationship and subsequent SA encounter, those things aren't ME. They are parts, yes, and they are things that pushed me in the direction of what I am now but. That's not all I am, and I highly doubt anyone I've told about those things views me as just that. Pico is not just his trauma. They are pieces of him but they are not him. He's not the shooting, not the russian roulette, he's not any of it. Those are just things he lived through.

On the outside, he can be really explained by one word. Guarded. Because he is, guarding himself from the horrors of the world by being standoffish, and cruel at times, a damaged man with a gun not above killing people for his own benefit but that's just what he's learned to do to survive. The world's been nothing but unkind to him and he mirrors that outwardly, why should the world get to witness his vulnerability, his true self when all it's done is burn him? No, of course not. He can be a "bad" person but he isn't a bad person, not truly.

So who is Pico, then? At the end of everything he's been through, kind. Smart, and creative, knows a thing or two about survival and skilled with his guns and that's impressive. Cocky and still kind of an asshole, but at the same time loyal and willing to go over the edge and maybe too far for other people that aren't himself. I don't give a goddamn if PA or whoever the fuck says that Pico hates BF and GF, he was supposed to kill Boyfriend in FNF, TWICE, and he doesn't. I'd like to think that people don't just so casually disobey Daddy Dearest and all of his money. Pico does anyways. Loyalty. Even though it puts targets on his back from his own friends for a little bit. He does the right thing from a sense of kindness and morality that outwardly he'd have you believing he doesn't have. But it's there and I'm very much aware of it.

Yes, there will be days that he temporarily can become the "him" he shows outwardly as a defense mechanism. Bad days where he struggles mentally, days where everything seems hopeless and not worth it so why even bother being a real person? But that's still not fully *him* and he couldn't get rid of the aspects of his true personality even if he tried. Even if his head convinced him that he was a good for nothing murderer and lost cause of a man. He's not. Sometimes he believes it, and that's worrying, but he really just isn't. Though I suppose if you wanted to nudge his character in that direction, you still could. There is a clear darker path that he can be pushed to and that's something very audible in the song that I chose to encapsulate him if you listen close enough. But for the sake of where I like to see him, I don't fully go down that path because I believe in giving him a happier ending.

He is space blue, and a deep gray bordering on full black. He is jade green and an off-white/silver, hazy but strong and encircling back on himself like a spiral galaxy. Soft colors that move slowly, contrasting the idea that he can never slow down or stop because then he'd unravel and fall back to that vulnerable part of him he tries so hard to hide. He really is like a slow moving snowstorm, gentle moving flurries that envelop and capture instead. Crisp lines that move like arms curling out and back around to cover himself and all his vulnerabilities, though I can see past them anyway. A large, rounded central core to him. Rounded, not sharp, not spiky, because all he wants to do is be safe and maybe, if he doesn't have to hurt anyone, he may choose not to. It's an air of a scared and wounded animal. Make no mistake, Pico can take care of himself, but beyond the severe distrust of other people maybe there's a part of him that doesn't want to be so locked up within himself. And it's for those special few that his shell sometimes crumbles to where they can see his true colors, perhaps even drown in them.

Despite the space blue and deep gray being darker, like a cloud hanging around him, they contrast with the jade green and silver that pushes a sense of light in the midst of it all. Pico's layers are clear to me, at least from what I can see. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm just saying what I want to see, but I'd like to think I've got a knack for nailing people and even characters by now. And no matter what song they may be, what vision I may see, they are all so very beautiful and important. Doesn't matter if it's a real person or not. I think it gives a sense of life to characters that I really adore. They're real on some other sense of reality, in those worlds shown on my eyes by my synesthesia that aren't truly there but are real to me. Kind of a little like hallucinations which might sound scary but I like these ones compared to the encounters I've had with. Other ones that aren't so nice lmao. Maybe they aren't really there but they're "fake" things that I absolutely don't mind having around

Pico is kind of someone I see a shocking amount of myself in. We have different traumas but it's sort of lead to some of the same outcomes regardless. And I don't want to consider him a lost cause personally. I don't like making him suffer for no reason so when I do write him suffering it's either me projecting my own experiences through him or tackling a bit of his mental health issues that he just seems to have. But besides that I like to write him with an air of hope and healing because I don't care what he struggles with he deserves a damn happy ending.

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Tested By Fire

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

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+ Proverbs 3:6 In all your ways, submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.

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VERSE OF THE DAY

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+ James 1:12 Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.

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** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM ENDURING WITH GOD

I AM A  SOLIDER

I AM BRAVE

I AM CONSTANTLY PRAYING

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READ TIME: 7 Minutes & 21 Seconds

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THOUGHTS:

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  Life has ups and downs, sometimes it’s hard to deal with. You’ll have people who are cruel to you and make you even more aggravated; sometimes, it adds to the pressure, so how much pressure can one person take? How much disappointment can one person take? God puts us through these difficult moments to build us up. It might sound backward or wrong, but this is also how diamonds are created from pressure, and this is how we are created and designed; when we allow situations to create pressure in us, it allows us to become different people; it allows those situations to make us better.

  1 Corinthians 10:13 No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it

  A lot of things happen when we are under pressure; we can either fold under pressure or allow ourselves to tell the enemy no; telling him no is so easy; telling him no and following through are two different things it’s easy to say no, and it’s easy to ignore but when the pressure is on. We are faced with a situation that’s when we must pray; we have to pray not to allow the enemy to tempt us with what our flesh wants; maybe it’s to fuss and fight, maybe it’s to say an unkind word, maybe it’s doing something we know we shouldn’t, whatever it is ,ask God to help you and give you strength.

  James 1:12 Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.

  It says blessed is the man that remains steadfast under trial; what’s steadfast? It means immovable, unwavering, faithful, blessed is the man that remains unmovable, unwavering under pressure, because when we do, we will receive the crown of life promised to them that love him. If we love him, we will obey him.

  Do you obey the Lord during the trials of life? Do you obey God when it’s tough to do? I know it’s hard to ignore an argument. I know it’s hard to ignore the temptation; I do because when our flesh wants something, it wants it, and it’s hard to tell our flesh no; it’s hard to tell our flesh to stop, but what we must do is subject our flesh to the mighty hand of God we must fast and pray to ask God to give us the strength to push through.

  Psalm 118:5-6 Out of my distress, I called on the Lord; the Lord answered me and set me free. The Lord is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me

   This is what we must do when we are under fire ,under pressure; we must call the Lord so that he can be on our side; he’s already there, but the Lord wants to be there with us through it all, so we must cry sometimes to him, we must shout sometimes the word says close the door behind you. When we close the door, we can stretch on the floor and say, Father, the temptation today is tough, Father. The pressure I feel is too much! Sometimes life can be so tough; he’s the only one we can confess things to because we can say it and not be judged by the Lord; we might be judged by everyone else but not him!

  1 Peter 1:7 These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So, when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise, glory, and honor on the day Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.

  Trails show who we are under pressure, and when this happens, we are like gold that is tested with fire; when our faith stays strong through many circumstances, we can have praise and glory and honor when the day Christ is here. Many of us can’t go through one day and endure what God puts on us, but when we call ourselves children of God, we must endure because Jesus endured while he was here. He endured people calling him out his name, he had to endure his own family not supporting him, he had to endure people trying to kill him , he endured so much, but can we endure the small things of life? To ensure, we must do what Christ did: get away to pray. He knew prayer would strengthen him through the painful season; when he communicated with God, God would give us what he needed, which is more strength.

  ***Today, we talked about how temptation can be hard to endure and how prayer can give us strength when we need it. Sometimes, we might think we can make it through our trials ourselves but we can’t. God wants to endure everything with us, but we must want him there. I can tell you trials come and go, but doing it with God is much better. Many of us forget about how good God is, and we try to do everything in our strength but we can’t forget about God.

 James 5:16 Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working

  It says the prayers of the righteous are powerful. Some of us don’t understand that when we submit ourselves to God when we pray. It’s so powerful because when we submit ourselves to God, we are not only submitting but also surrendering our time and body to God. God doesn't want us to use prayer sometimes, but always, he wants us to do this; it’s not hard to surrender, but it’s hard to let go of the situation, but God wants you to know we don’t have to worry about the situation just let go and trust in him, do you trust him? If you do, let him handle your tough requests and situations.

©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

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PRAYER

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Heavenly Father, we thank you for today, thank you for life, health, and strength. Lord, we ask you to give us what we need, which is strength. Lord, we honor you and pray that you help us through our temptation. Father, we can’t do this on our own. We have tried and failed, but we know that when we give it to you, you’ll help us through it all. Lord, forgive us of our sins in help us to apply this devotion to our lives in Jesus’s Name. Amen

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REFERENCES

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+ Proverbs 24:10 If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small.

 

+ Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope

 

+ Romans 8:28 And we know that for those who love God, all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose

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FURTHER READINGS

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 Proverbs 19

Nehemiah 9

Psalm 56

Psalm 108

Exodus 38

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[thethirdromana]

Until now, it seems like Dorian's misdeeds are mostly under the influence of Lord Henry, but finally we get to a point where Dorian's character comes to the fore.

Basil Hallward has what's essentially a good person's reaction to Sibyl Vane's poor acting: perhaps she was ill, and it doesn't matter anyway. It's wrong to be unkind about people you love.

Lord Henry has a dismissive and unkind, but not cruel reaction: he doesn't really see Sibyl as a real person, but he remains blandly positive, and seems to have a genuine reaction ("a strange tenderness in his voice") to seeing Dorian upset.

But Dorian's reaction is pure cruelty. We see just how shallow his feelings for Sibyl were all along; he makes no attempt to understand her, and responds to her breaking down on the floor sobbing with "exquisite disdain" and annoyance.

I can't imagine Henry, even at his worst, being quite so callous, though he might claim to be. I think this is where we see that far from being an innocent young thing caught in a bad influence, Dorian is a worse character than either of his friends, for all that he himself thinks that Henry's "subtle poisonous theories" are to blame.

[episodicnostalgia]

Star Trek: The Next Generation, 123 (May 2, 1988) - “We'll Always Have Paris”

Written by: Deborah Dean Davis & Hanna Louise Shearer Directed by: Robert Becker

The Breakdown

The Enterprise crew are prepping for shore leave (gotta boost crew morale after Tasha’s death, y’know), when a bunch of time-travel-ish space-whimsy plagues the ship by causing people to slightly rewind-and-replay a few seconds of their current conversations/tasks.  It’s a fairly minor inconvenience as far as Galaxy class shenanigans go, but it’s enough for Picard to postpone shore leave for at least 45 minutes (plus commercials). And wouldn’t you just know it, shortly thereafter a distress signal comes in from one Paul Manheim, a renowned scientist whose whole deal involves professionally mucking around with time, so naturally Picard puts two-and-two together.  However, the mere mention of Manheim (a man Picard admits to knowing only by reputation) causes the otherwise stoic Captain to become so tense that even Data starts taking notice.

So what gives?

It just so happens that Paul Manheim is married to a woman (Janice) who used to be Picard’s flame back in the day.  Essentially, Jean Luc ghosted her on the same day they'd agreed to meet to say goodbye, before he shipped off to pursue his Starfleet career. You see, he was “afraid he would lose his resolve to leave," since he loved her so much. So, he did a really unkind (one might even say, casually cruel) thing and left without saying anything to, y'know spare HIMSELF the pain. Anyways, breezing-right-past-unpacking-any-of-that, they would tragically never speak again until this episode. But it all works out very amicably, which is nice I guess, and they finally say a farewell the way the way he ought to have the first fucking time. so it all works out*.

*[If I'm being honest though, Janice is a way better sport about the whole thing than I would have been.  Like, she pretty much just lets him off the hook; to my knowledge that’s the last we'll ever hear of it.]

While Picard’s drama plays out on the side, the rest of the episode deals with the weird time-loop phenomenon that Manheim caused via (surprise surprise) a radical experiment gone wrong.  Long-story-short, Manheim created a temporal rift-or-whatever that causes moments in time to replay in inconsistent ways [sometimes you redo a moment in time, and other times you end up running into an earlier version of yourself; basically whatever helps move the plot along].  Apparently Manheim was working on the theory that there are actually infinite dimensions, and that our perception of time is… yada yada yada.  Honestly, I can't remember the explanation, but I promise you it doesn't matter. All we need to know is that somehow Manheim has untethered his consciousness so that he can perceive multiple dimensions (presumably of the “multi-verse” variety) at once, and it’s driving him crazy.  Not only that, but somehow the affect of Manheim’s temporal rift also has cascading universe-ending consequences if left un-mended.

During one of his more lucid moments, Manheim gives the Enterprise gang the necessary codes to bypass his lab's security protocols, and Data beams down to do some obligatory emergency-space-science; in this instance, placing a canister of anti-matter into a time-rift-fixing machine (no time-lab should be without one).  There’s a brief complication where Data has to coordinate the application the anti-matter to a precise countdown (for unspecified plot reasons), but then he splits into three versions of himself (for unspecified temporal reasons) with no way to tell which one of him should insert the antimatter at the end of the countdown (why not all three, you ask? Also unspecified).  Anyways, the middle Data figures out he’s the right one (with no further explanation as to how he came to that conclusion), and he's correct, which is pretty handy.

With the rift patched up, Manheim’s mind is also conveniently restored, and spared from any residual side affects that one might expect from having one’s consciousness volleyed between dimensions.  Thankfully he’s learned his lesson and vows that things will be different between him and Janice, who he has apparently been neglecting (that woman sure can pick ‘em), and this time he’s going to… keep doing his experiments?  But… *checks notes* uh, yeah no, that’s somehow correct. He’s just going to be more careful, moving forward, and apparently that’s good enough for Janice! So the universe can rest easy knowing that Manheim’s work will continue to go unchecked, except he promises to avoid any more catastrophic mistakes!

I certainly wouldn’t have any concerns.

The Verdict

God, this was dull.  I actually had to watch the episode twice, because I was so bored the first time that I zoned out, and forgot what happened. A little digging on memory-alpha reveals production was temporarily halted by the writers strike of ’88, because the script hadn’t been completed, which honestly explains a lot. On the one hand we have Picard grappling with regret and doubt over a lost love from his past, and on the other hand you have Paul Manheim trying to control the flow of time while ignoring his present relationship with the same woman Picard has longed for. I’m not saying it would win awards, but I shouldn’t have to point out the obvious thematic potential between those two threads any more than I already have. But the end result ends up being… just nothing really.

For starters, the relationship between Janice and Picard was just so underwhelmingly civil.  Don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate it when adult characters behave like adults, but the point of this story was to address a regrettable choice from Picard’s past. And yet, when the two literally-star-crossed lovers finally meet for the first time in decades, the conflict between them amounts to little more than a quaint conversation, and an acknowledgment that mistakes were made. Janice offers almost immediate forgiveness, while barely (if all all) holding Picard accountable for his actions, or even addressing the longstanding emotional grief. 

Apparently the writers (Shearer and Davis) did want Picard and Janice to do the nasty, but that was kiboshed by the various powers-that-be. Now, I’m not saying that would have necessarily been the right way to go, but it certainly would have been more interesting than what we got.  Even a passionate kiss (or something to that effect) would have gone a long way to selling me on the idea that these two people had longed for each other, not to mention addressing Janice’s strained marriage to Manheim, and the internal conflict she ostensibly is meant to feel.  It’s not like the writers were being at all discreet about ripping off Casablanca, so why remove the one thing from that story to help make this narrative slog halfway interesting?

As for the time-dilation subplot, it just felt thematically disjointed, and ends up becoming kind of an afterthought.  Manheim also has virtually nothing in the way of a character arc.  You’re telling me he was SO obsessed with his work that he became an absent husband with a singular obsession, and in the end he’s still going to keep being obsessed, but he’s also somehow learned his lesson?  The script seems to genuinely back the idea that Manheim’s quest to control time shouldn’t be reevaluated at all (outside of avoiding of repeat the specific errors from his previous attempt), and that he and Janice will somehow be much happier (and safer) this time.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was some behind the scenes editorializing/censorship at work here.

But then again, who cares?

1 star (out of 5)

Additional Observations

You know, for a shining utopia that has rid itself of capitalism’s shackles, there’s still quite an emphasis on concepts like ‘careers’, and officers struggling to maintain steady relationships due to the demands of the job.  Kirk was an absentee father who never had time find a steady relationship, Spock’s betrothed dumped him via gladiatorial combat, Riker and Troi’s on-again-off-again romance was mainly off-again until the movies finally let them settle down, and Worf- …well Worf’s wives just get murdered, but that’s basically the Klingon equivalent of getting dumped. Now we have Picard, who evidently ran like a coward from the love of his life because of his crippling commitment issues. Speaking of the dear Captain…

Picard really IS an asshole: This episode establishes Picard as something of a heartbreaker, but the writing is so nonchalant about it, you almost wouldn’t notice.  This highlights one of the issues I’ve had with this season, generally speaking.  Apparently there was an intentional aversion to addressing character flaws/interpersonal conflicts amongst the crew, even when the story required it (because humanity had advanced beyond conflict and selfishness, you see), yet, Picard has spent much of the first season as a cranky, ill humoured, fuddy duddy (excuse my language). The thing is, I actually kind like how he starts off as cold and over-serious, and then begins to warm as the show progresses, but I have my doubts that the shift was executed with much thought or planning (maybe I’ll change my mind as I watch more episodes). Here especially, there was an opportunity to actually address some of his emotional short-comings, which is sadly overlooked.

Troi-SPIRACY: I have nothing concrete here, but this episode features a pretty classic example of Troi’s “I have abilities and can sense something is wrong with you” nonsense, when she approaches Picard about his emotional bagage. Like, oh really Deanna? Could you “sense” Picard was feeling “strong emotions”?  Surely it wasn’t the fact that he went as rigid as a lamp post at the mention of some random dude’s name, or the fact that he aggressively striking the palm of his hand with a tightly folded towel, did you?  No, I’m positive it must have been your magical powers picking up on the same thing the entire crew was also noticing. I’m telling you, Troi is a fraud who is so good at her job that she’s convinced everyone she has powers.

Holo-Horrors: So Picard loads up a holosuite program of some 24th century Paris Café, which comes fully staffed, and filled with customers (all holograms). Each of these holo-folk seem to have complex internal lives, with access to the full spectrum of human emotion, and relationships with histories. One of them (who is talking to a friend about her relationship woes) reminds Picard of Janice, even though she is otherwise entirely unique. So does that mean the ship computer is generating fully realized sentient background "programs" just for the sake of realism? I dunno man, the holosuite tech really does seem a lot more dystopian than I remember it being, growing up.

[mono-red-menace]

i think we should all be a lot nicer to each other, honestly

and i also think i should go through and find all the people who I feel are approaching things wrong and just like. unfollow them.

like all the time i see people who have opinions i find correct, but approaches i find wrong, and even bad, but i feel like their reasons are correct, and the fact that they can justify their reasons with cited sources makes me feel like they're more intelligent than me, so they Can Do No Wrong or whatever. and i feel like unfollowing is Bad because it means that i'm like, idk. giving up on getting a source i feel like i can trust because they can cite their fucking sources in ways that i just can't because of my adhd.

like i can't remember Shit. i tried to read and take notes and stuff and i just Can't remember shit. even if i go over the same thing over and over, it's just super hard. so when someone else can, i give them a LOT of room to be less-than-stellar towards others because I feel like they're Smarter so it's okay, so I just Bite My Tongue and follow along in the ways I'm comfortable.

but like i'm starting to think that maybe I should focus less on people who i feel are The Most Qualified (even though they're really not all that qualified honestly) if it means that I feel like i'm becoming cruel, and if it means that it is contributing towards my unkindness toward myself.

and like i know this sounds silly but it ties into my Obsessions. i'm Obsessed with Moral Purity. I'm Obsessed with Factual Accuracy, Especially When It Comes To Morality. so like, if people have the Right Opinions, they get more leeway, and like I mean I'm not that smart anyways, and they're smarter than me, so like i CANT unfollow them because then i'd be losing out of Factual Accuracy.

and it feels silly that i'm obsessed with stuff like this, but I feel like i'm a Bad Incompetent Person and i need to Become Better and the only way to do so is to like. make sure im listening to the Right people and avoiding the Wrong people, and if i Stop focusing on that, then that must mean I'm going back to being Bad, which is Bad.

but i mean like i don't have to be wholly knowledgeable about everything. like, main thing is, i need to survive. i need to be happy. and I'm not contributing as much as I want to in the ways I need to, and part of that is because I'm too busy being cruel to myself, lol.

so im gonna actually resolve to start unfollowing people who i feel like are being dicks instead of just like. ignoring it or, sometimes even laughing at it and participating.

just like. idk man.

i've learned in my time here that being cruel to people doesn't actually make them do better. it often makes them do worse.

and this doesn't just apply to being cruel to someone for "being lazy," or "being a faker," or any of that ableist stuff. it also applies to being cruel to someone for not knowing something. and it's being cruel to someone for believing something they didn't know was misinformation.

like i'm going to be honest. i'm Much more likely to accept what someone is saying to me, even if it's wrong, if it's told to me in a kind manner. this is just true of like. almost anyone. and like idk. i know kindness doesn't mean correctness, but like, i'm more likely to try to engage with information and learn more about someone told me kindly than if I was berated for not knowing it.

like. idk. sorry. kindness is the approach. i've learned this firsthand. kindness is the only approach.

abuse is what got me into a state of no self confidence, of needing to be constantly reminded how to do things to the point where people would do it for me, not always because i couldn't remember (though that was also common), but because I was scared i'd be wrong. abuse is what got me to the point of physically harming myself by trying to do way more than i was capable of for fear of being "lazy" or "worthless."

and the only way I was able to stop it was to learn to be kind to myself.

so like idk. i'm reevaluating the things I'm Letting Slide for the sake of Moral Justness. and I'm putting confidence in myself that I won't fall away from my morals just because I don't try to surround myself with just The Most Morally and Factually Correct people to compensate for my own disabilities.

and also i'm going to stop surrounding myself with people who are dicks to people about not knowing things or struggling to do things the "correct" way due to disability.

like idk man. i think you're just being ableist. i think you're just being ableist when you make fun of people for trying to learn things in the ways they can, instead of struggling to do it in a way that they can't because it's "correct."

and like. idk man. i think sometimes you're just being a dick. not necessarily like ableist or anything like that. not something you'd necessarily feel like you'd have to fix, because you feel morally justified to Be a dick Unless it's Problematic. i just think that you're being a dick. lol.

i'm not going to put up with it anymore. I STG. i keep saying it and then not following thru bc some of the ppl i see being mean and stuff are mutuals, and I have this weird like. unhealthy connection thing about mutuals. but like i swear like this isn't good for me and it isn't good for the people around me. :|

[purplesaline]

Sorry to see Katy was such a bitch to you, you didn't deserve that response for trying to be helpful.

I appreciate the support ❤️ she didn't do anything wrong though. Folks with a larger follower base can often get a lot of messages offering unsolicited advice and it can get really frustrating and tiring and as a result responses can sometimes get a little blunt. Especially when it comes to medical stuff, which is a pretty private issue for many folks, and can be a hard boundary.

While my comment wasn't meant as advice, just a "Hey in case you weren't aware here's some info. Do with it what you will", any comments regarding medical stuff can be a boundary for some folks and that's totally valid.

The communities I tend to hang out around have a culture where comments like the one I made are encouraged, and I forget that's not the case everywhere. That's on me for not being more aware of what was socially acceptable in the space I was in.

She made it clear this is a boundary for her and I'll be sure to respect it going forward.

It's important to remember that when we cross someone's boundaries we can cause them harm, even if we mean well, and people don't have to be gentle with us when we do that. Her response to me may have been a little sharp, but she wasn't mean or cruel at all. Any feelings I have about how she responded aren't her responsibility and they're certainly not her fault.

I won't lie and say her response didn't sting, but that's because I want to be seen as someone who is helpful, and I want to be liked and those are my issues to deal with, not hers to worry about.

I wanted to answer this publicly because I think it's really important for people to understand that it's okay for people to be blunt and even a little sharp, especially regarding boundaries, and that it's not the same thing as being rude. It's not even unkind!

She didn't do anything wrong just because she didn't sugar coat her response for my benefit.

I really do appreciate you reaching out though, it helped soothe my butthurt feelings which let me see it all a little more objectively, so thank you again.

[wefallforever]

Spoilers for episode 6 of the bear below!

The first thing I have to say after finishing this episode: 🗣️🗣️Natalie "Sugar" Berzatto has never done anything wrong in her life EVEN ONCE!! (Can you tell I'm an eldest "daughter" LMAO 🥲)

But for real though this episode was so fucking intense. I'm personally a christmas lover but ep. 6 is the perfect example of why people hate the holidays. All the family bunched up together in one space and the dynamics get so chaotic so fast.

Ugh the wounds in this family! You can see the horrors of addiction and toxic dysfunction reverberating in all their actions. Of course we try to cover it up, pretend things are normal, that things are comfortable. Meanwhile the air in the room feels too tight and the demons/scared inner children we hold within are screaming for attention. "I AM IN PAIN! I FEEL UNLOVED! I AM ANGRY! WHY DOESN'T ANYONE CARE! PAY ATTENTION TO ME NOTICE ME!"

The sibling pep talk at the beginning felt sooo familiar. "Make a plan to keep our unstable mom in check. It is doomed to fail, but we are trying anyways!" Desperately doing everything you can to help her while she screams that you don't care-threatens to die, to go away, because we are all so cruel to her. Ultimately we cannot actually stop her from going away and being closed off to us, no matter how much broken glass we sweep up off the floor. (No amount of bleeding and tears and begging and pleading can change her. As much as we would like).

OOF and that deep dissociation we see from Carmy and Sugar at the end?!!! Brutal as fuck! My consciousness damn near left my body too. Had to remind myself out loud I wasn't in actual danger. And poor Mikey screaming at his mom to open the door over and over, to let him help over and over, while she just laughed and laughed and laughed? Definitely the kind of thing you have to unpack in a 12 step meeting.

The last thing I will say is Uncle Lee deserved that third spoon!!! Obviously Mikey was being a dick with the first two but Lee kept provoking him when he should have just shut the fuck up and left. Then when he made that unkind comment about Donna who is clearly suffering from mental illness!!! I was like "do what you gotta do Mikey fuck him up!" That could be the aries rising talking but I'm not sure.

Very excited to finish the last three episodes over the weekend!

[quickdeaths]

Shinobu wasn't sure what had happened. Things had moved so quickly. By the time she could move, by the time she could speak, Sonia was already gone - out of sight even as Shinobu wished to reach out to her and tell her to wait. Instead, her hand went to the denim of Ji-yeon's jacket, bunching up the fabric of her sleeve and yanking her along as Shinobu marched around the side of building, out of sight of anyone who might have stopped to gawk at the interaction prior.

"What the hell was that, Miss Ji-yeon," Shinobu asked, more bewildered than angry, incapable as she was of truly summoning up her rage at someone she cared for so deeply. "Miss Nevermind was nothing but courteous to you, and she was excited to have the chance to talk. It isn't like you to be so hostile." Among the things she'd always admired about Ji-yeon Iida was her senses of inclusion and compassion - how she brought together people of all sorts of backgrounds and experiences.

Ji-yeon bristled as she pulled her arm back from Shinobu's grasp. "I should be asking you that, Shinobu-san. Why would you even bring her here?" Shinobu blinked, barely understanding the question. "You gave me two tickets, and she's my friend." That didn't seem to satisfy Ji-yeon, who wrinkled her nose and exhaled like she was deeply annoyed. "She's a literal princess. She's everything that's wrong with this world. People like her are the reason I'm here in the first place. I'm not going to feel bad for speaking truth to power, even if some imperialist didn't want to hear it."

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking to Shinobu with a discerning expression on her face that the archer couldn't quite understand. "Come on, you don't disagree with anything I said, do you?" Shinobu frowned. "Well, on a grand scale, not exactly, but-" "So then what's the problem!?" They winced. "Miss Nevermind isn't like that! She's not greedy, she's not two-faced, she's not self-martyring or arrogant or cruel or unconcerned with the suffering of others, or anything you've tried to paint her as."

There was some unfamiliar pain in Shinobu's chest, that persisted even after a deep, calming breath came as an attempt to banish it. "I understand that we're talking of systems, not of people, but then why be so needlessly unkind to a person who only wanted to befriend you?" Even Shinobu, someone who lacked for friends, could see that was too far. She sighed, hands upon her hips, shaking her head in disbelief as she failed to understand anything about why Ji-yeon had spoken as she did.

There was silence between them for a few moments, broken up by the quiet sound of rain upon the pavement as it began to rain. Shinobu shifted, about to move to a place beneath an alcove, or under some trees, only to see Ji-yeon rooted in place, unmoving. "You were so protective of me, Shinobu-san, when you found out what had happened, even though I wasn't good enough at protecting you. I wanted you to see me play again, like I used to, even if the circumstances were poor, and I thought we could talk, and maybe things would end up differently." She was looking at the ground, the rain flattening her hair against her forehead and dripping steadily down from her chin.

"So why would you bring someone here who you're in love with?" Shinobu recoiled, hands instinctively rising to wave off the accusation. "You're entirely mistaken, Miss Ji-yeon. Miss Nevermind and I are just friends." "You're lying to me." Ji-yeon lifted her head, and Shinobu could see how wet her face had become. "You look at her like she's the only person in the room." She lifted her hands to rub at her face, yet no matter how much rain she wiped off, there seemed to be more still. "You think that I, of all people, don't know what it looks like when you love someone?"

Shinobu sighed again, pushing their wet hair out of their eyes and moving to clean their glasses on their jacket. "You don't know what you're talking about," she said, a little more tersely than intended, "and this isn't about me." It was a topic that made her feel strangely uncomfortable, and she wanted to move away from it as fast as possible. "Miss Nevermind did nothing but take an interest in your life and empathize with your struggles and hardships. She was so kind, and you made her cry. That's not like you at all." Ji-yeon crossed her arms again, uncharacteristically standoffish as she looked down. "Aren't you the last person who should be lecturing me on making kind girls cry?"

Shinobu flinched as though she'd been struck across the face. Ji-yeon flinched herself, opening up her body language, looking as though she'd immediately regretted the words that had come from her mouth. But, she wasn't wrong, was she? "Ah... I see." Shinobu swallowed, forcing herself to nod. "That's a fair criticism. I just thought... or hoped, I suppose, that you didn't see me that way." Ji-yeon shuffled over, nearly losing her balance with how quickly she moved, hands going to Shinobu's shoulder and side. "Wait, Shinobu-san, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I-"

Shinobu gently, firmly, shrugged off the attention. "I need to go home," she mumbled. "I don't have a ride home anymore, and if I'm too late, my father will..." She shook her head. "I need to go. Goodbye, Miss Ji-yeon." They swallowed again, forcing up their face something that approximated an apologetic expression, before swiftly walking away from the campus.

If Sonia was looking at her messaging app, she would have seen the typing bubble appear, then disappear, then reappear again dozens of time once Shinobu returned home. It had been a long, cold, miserable walk home in the rain, which had only picked up after she'd left the Waseda University campus. Her father had only seen fit to yell at her about wasting her time on frivolous things, and had gone to bed early, which left Shinobu to her own devices - namely, sitting out on her balcony, trying to think of what to say. How did one even begin to broach such a topic.

It was late, of course. It had taken some time to walk home by herself, and her father's scolding, followed by her failed attempt to compose a message, had eaten well into the dark hours of the night. In the morning, if she slept well, surely Shinobu could think of something better to say. Yet, she had the sinking feeling that she wouldn't sleep well, and it felt awful to imagine even trying without speaking to Sonia. And so, rather uncharacteristically impulsive of her, Shinobu deleted whatever poor message draft she'd begun, and called Sonia instead, bringing the phone up to her ear and feeling her heart pounding as she waited for a response.

Each ring felt like an eternity, and for a moment, Shinobu wondered if Sonia would ignore the call altogether. She could be asleep, surely, but even if she wasn't, it would be entirely understandable if she had no desire to speak to Shinobu after what had happened. What would they do then? Chase her down at school once the small break was over, and they'd formally begun their third years? Go in the morning? She'd already began formulating plans, when Sonia finally picked up. "Ah, hello," Shinobu said, her voice soft beneath the flustered tone. "It's Shinobu. Yaguchi, I mean." As though there were other Shinobus Sonia might know, calling at this hour, and as though Sonia might not have seen her name on the display. "I regret that it's so late, but may I speak with you for a little while? Please?"

Her knee-jerk reaction was to interject that she didn't enjoy being called a princess when she didn't need to be. There was a clear separation, Sonia thought, between what she was and who she was. And even if her family tended to ignore it, it was something she held tight to. Maybe that was why her hobbies were deemed so bizarre, from her absurd collections to the fact that she didn't enjoy hemorrhaging taxpayer euros for things she thought were frivolous. Her mother's designer wardrobe, her uncle's yacht, even a few of her father's larger expenditures into his own collecting hobbies: she couldn't make sense of needing to dip into funds secured by taxes to fund personal whims and desires. It was why she made her own investments into businesses: royal run of course and certainly there were some tax loopholes, but she funneled that into anything she deemed was non-essential. It made her oddity, among many other things that did, with her aristocratic peers.

Instead, Sonia opened her mouth and closed it again. It made little sense to point that out, or even the fact that her parents had sold a smaller property to pay for Hope's Peak: it was why they couldn't afford to send real antiques to furnish her rooms. Sonia had found the prospect silly to begin with and that simpler furnishings would be more than suitable, but it was seemingly an offense against her family's heritage to think so.

She was, apparently, both terrible at being royalty and terrible because she was royalty. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn't win. And no matter where she looked, other than Ji-yeon's fury, there was concern. Apprehension. But most of all, stares: as much as she'd wanted to support Shinobu's friend undetected, the universe had other plans. Ones that now included a few glares in Ji-yeon's direction, out of support for Princess Sonia of Novoselic.

"I am not your enemy!" She wanted to shout right back. That they came from different backgrounds and had different struggles they surely wanted some of the same things. That they were both still learning how to make a difference in their futures. Sonia swallowed the lump in her throat, before glancing at Shinobu.

"But am I still your friend?"

She exhaled deeply, trying to ready her nerves as barrage after barrage of criticism and hatred spilled from Ji-yeon's mouth. Royals did not cry in public, whether it was Council meetings or in the face of heated anti-monarchists. No one ever saw them do so, barring family, which made it all the more distressing for her when her parents screamed, shouted, and wailed because they were unable to do so otherwise.

But Sonia couldn't help but sniffle at the last of Ji-yeon's critique of her life: she didn't deserve a place at Hope's Peak. Something she knew better than anyone. Something her family knew, too, with sizable donations to the school done to conceal it. It wasn't as if this girl could've known, but those words cut deeper into her soul than any seething rage towards the Novoselic Royal Family could.

"I..." She began, turning her attention back to Ji-yeon. Another deep breath, another smile, no matter how small. Together they could keep her lip from quivering, the tears from falling: they had to. "I feel that anyone who must put aside their dreams deserves compassion, no matter the circumstances." In her view, she never had the chance to even try for her dreams, not in the way Ji-yeon had. She only had one choice: take the throne or allow her country to be ruled by someone who only desired to make the rich richer and dismantle social rights in favor of Catholic values. Her conscience wouldn't let her choose the latter, nor would her father's.

There was no point in arguing. And she couldn't come out and agree with her, at least about her lack of belonging at the school. Out of everything Ji-yeon had said, it was the only thing Sonia had vehemently agreed with. But to engage her would only attract more attention, attention that would, almost certainly, villainize Ji-yeon, make Sonia a spectacle that would reach her family's ears, and most importantly, put Shinobu in an uncomfortable position. Out of all of those conclusions, Sonia thought as she gave Shinobu an apologetic look, it was making her uncomfortable that bothered Sonia the most. She'd only wanted to support her close friend, and Sonia's existence had ruined everything.

"I am sorry for having ruined your day, Iida-san, Yaguchi-san," Sonia told them. Her smile was hanging by a thread but she would keep it on even if it killed her, even as tears welled up in her eyes. "I very much enjoyed the concert, though. Your music was beautiful, I am sorry you cannot pursue it professionally."

"But," she continued, swallowing another large gulp of tears. "I do not wish to upset either of you further. So I shall take my leave. I apologize again and...goodnight."

There was no point, Sonia thought as she turned and began walking to the car, to mention about seeing them again. Either of them: Ji-yeon had clearly shown she never wanted to speak to Sonia again and with Shinobu being such a close friend to her, she doubted that Shinobu felt any different about the matter. They had a real connection, anyway: an ease in how they related to one another, dinners together, first names.

Sonia held her clutch bag a little tighter as two plainclothes members of her security detail split from the crowd to follow her, one opening the door to the backseat for her, closing it once she'd settled in before sliding into the passenger's seat. The other had entered the smaller car behind: after the debacle in the auditorium, they must have sent for an additional backup car of security, just in case.

"Is your friend not dining with you, Your Highness?" The driver asked, too innocently in her opinion. Just as well: he hadn't witnessed what had just happened.

"No," Sonia choked out as the car began to pull away from the curb. "And I would like that reservation canceled, please...I would like to be taken directly back to Hope's Peak instead. I will...see to my dinner on my own. But I need to return to school. Now."

She'd barely waited for the security guard in the passenger's seat to reply in the affirmative before pressing the button to raise the privacy barrier between the front and back seats. The wasted surprise was the least of her worries, and with tinted windows she could at least have a modicum of privacy before returning to her room.

[moonrisecalamityretreat]

Brother's Keeper | Mikazuki | Trial 4 | re: Loic

Mikazuki just watches it all become unavoidable, and finds it hard to muster even a token surprise at the reveal of Loic’s injury. She’s seen the script beforehand, the desperation to cover for someone else. 

She wonders if this case had happened earlier on, that she would be vindicated by sweet normal Loic turning out to be a killer. There’s some sense of that deep down, but in a way, she also just feels sad when she thinks of the person to the left of her. 

It’s infuriating in two very different ways to Mikazuki, that she isn’t quite sure how to react to the news at first. 

♫♫♫

Not for long, though. The irrational, horrible need to say cruel things and cause problems that she’d managed to keep on a leash for a while now is clawing and snapping in the hopes of sinking its teeth into something now.

“You know something, Loic? I’ve learned pretty quickly here that two things can be true at once.” 

She can feel two things at once–on one hand, anger, on the other, pity. The emotions move forward in tandem along with her feet towards Loic. 

“I said it in the beginning–I can’t deny that you’re the reason that my own little brother and my girlfriend aren’t going to starve to death. It’d be wrong not to acknowledge that I’m a little grateful and that I might have done something similar if this had gone on any longer.” 

“Still…it’s human to be contradictory, right? It’s possible to be thankful not to starve and be pissed off at your other reason, isn’t it?” 

She steps past Ken and gets right in front of Loic. This positioning is probably better, makes her feel more of use, and makes it easier for her to stare her down. 

“You’re ‘sick of us’, are you? Sick of me, I get–sick of all of us, though? That’s rich. The person complaining about how unkind we are killing in part so he could stop having to be around people who disgust him–and leave Maxime behind, too, potentially to die for you or at least have to answer for all your shit even when you’re not around.” 

“And I’ll never understand why Sayuri if that’s what pushed you. She’d managed to do what you had given up on simply because we were too difficult for you to stand and too annoying. She actually understood people. It’s tough since everybody here is a bad choice, but…well. You’d have a better argument for your second reason if you’d picked me. I’m the massive freak that made you hate everybody, right?” 

A bitter smile escapes her–how rich. How ironic. He’d looked at her as unforgivable, told her as much, considered everyone else the weird ones for forgiving her, cut her off from Hisakata (as much as he could–Mikazuki has no proof that Loic had anything to do with that whole thing really, but at least Hisakata hadn’t listened), and now here he was, insistent that the others around him were the ignorant uncooperative ones as if he hadn’t slaughtered one of the most understanding people Mikazuki had known. 

He never forgave her for what she’d said and done. 

That’s fine.

She’ll never forgive him either. Not for this, not for abandoning his brother and leaving a massive mess, not for destroying Hisakata’s hope that Loic could be happy again, and not for making her feel guilty about inflicting her own worst nightmare onto somebody else.

“I was right from the start. You’re fucking pathetic.” 

Her feelings about Loic Archambeult were a stupid, pointless circle. Hatred, understanding, and back to hatred except in a way that hurt more to think about. 

“And I owe you a lot now. You suck, Loic.”

She breathes in through her nose before looking to the rest of the room. 

“…is there anything we’re forgetting, before we decide for sure that it’s Loic? This is all…still pretty elaborate that I wouldn’t doubt they were both in on it from the start. I want to clear up any room for doubt that we can.”

[furiousgoldfish]

Abusers will fill your mind how thing would be so good for you, if only you'd be more understanding, more obedient, more allowing, more non-offended at their insults, more forgiving. They build up this idea that every misstep of theirs only happened because you did something first, you assumed something, you misunderstood, you didn't give them enough to feel safe and free. You made them act out because you didn't give them enough safe space to be themselves.

So abuse victims can go forward thinking that this is how you make people good; you love them unconditionally. You always assume the best of them, you allow them missteps and forgive them, you give 100% of your energy to them. You're always excited to be with them, you never judge them, never judge their actions, only their intentions. You show them that they will be understood and loved and listened to, no matter what they do, almost like a child. You give them freedom to be themselves and show them that they're safe to open up, safe to express, safe to ask for whatever they need and safe to love you back.

And if something goes bad, then this is your fault; you didn't do enough. Because if you did, that person would be sweet and loving  and kind. You take responsibility for their actions, they don't take responsibility for anything. You get to feel bad when they hurt you, because it was on you to prevent it, even though it was unpreventable.

Abusers claim that someone having bad assumptions about them, is what makes them act out and act unkindly, they're punishing those people for assuming bad things, and why should they act nice if people are going to assume bad stuff? They frame it as if the assumption is what made them bad. The truth is, no assumption you could have about anyone will affect their behaviour. If you assume someone is a bad person, and they're not, then the time will show the reality of the situation. A good person will not start acting out to 'punish' the assumption maker, they'll keep being good to prove the assumption wrong. Acting out to 'punish' the assumption is something we allow to children, not adults. Every adult understands it's immature and counter-productive to fight assumptions with even worse actions, and that kindness is not rewarded with positive feedback every single time. They also understand that acting cruelly and viciously will not be rewarded with positive feedback. They know it's unreasonable to ask for it, they know they're doing it just to push blame on the victims, for their own behaviour.

Giving abusers endless positive reinforcement ends up with them turning into the worst versions of themselves. Them feeling safe means they can now revert to their most selfish, unkind and sadistic selves, and they will not be judged, and all their sins will be forgiven. They'll want you to feel safe to open up as well, but only so they could use the most vulnerable and intrusive info about you to hurt you when you try to hold them accountable for their behaviour, or when you try to stand up to their opinions and orders.

You can't give abusers enough love and kindness to turn them good. It has been tried endless times, and it turns into the same exploitative, cruel and abusive situation. They will never have enough, and nothing will ever be enough. They're not after love, they're after control and superiority. They will not love you as their equal, you can only be a toy. And when you're broken, they'll seek out a new one. Nobody deserves to be put thru that. Nobody deserves to be abandoned and devalued after putting their best into the relationship.

[celestialspecial]

The Rogue and the Rose

The Fae and Human world have been separate for as long as anyone can remember- and for good reason. But curiosity calls upon Billy to cross the border and follow what has been occupying his dreams and mind. Will he quench his thirst for answers or will it only lead him down a path that even he cannot escape?

Fae!Billy

Writers Notes: I hesitated to post this for a while even though its been sitting unfinished in my notes for a bit. I'm sure it wont receive as much interaction but I love the story and how it came to me one day and I intend to share it and hope that at least a few of you enjoy it <3

The barrier was there for a reason. Protection of the highest regard. To keep Fae in and humans out. Humans were unsafe. Or so they were told. One could go over the wall when the moon was full. That’s when it was safest.

Or so they were told.

Billy wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. He’d grown up in a fae town not far from the border of worlds. Cautionary tales were told like bedtime stories. Then again the orphanage wasn’t one for comfort and joy.

Years of training and practice made him a skilled warrior among his people. Talents abound and a skill set that many longed for but few attained. And yet, how much of a warrior was he truly if he still feared the mortal realm like those around him?

Fae blood could cure disease and illness in humans, for that any fae that was foolish enough to cross the border and unfortunate enough to be captured never returned. A similar fate was found amongst humans who also were dumb enough to enter into Fae.

They rarely provided actual usage to their captors besides entertainment, of all dark sorts. No, it was more of a punishment for all the wrong doings their kind had bestowed to the fae. Payback of sorts. 

It was cruel and unkind, but this was fae, and that’s how it was. Kill or be killed. Humanity and magick had gone it’s separate ways millennia ago and that’s how it stayed and what was passed down. 

The sun had begun to set, a dull amber glow filling Billy’s cottage. A humble hut, just on the outskirts of town. Close enough to get provisions when needed, but far enough that he was rarely bothered. And that’s how he liked it.

A loner by choice, but the enticement of celebrations drew him out for the occasional evening. Maybe more than occasional. He preferred to be left alone after that. Tonight however was different, after months of pondering and plotting, this full moon he’d embark on what perhaps would be his craziest move yet.

Entering the mortal world. It’d been calling to him for a while now, unsure as to why but curious nonetheless. Curiosity had been his defining childhood trait. The women at the orphanage had had to bandage him up more than a few times because of his antics.

Getting into trouble with his close friends had been his specialty and as he’d grown it hadn’t gone away, only changed. He became more quick, more calculated. His talents  were honed by the towns guard, sword fighting, archery, alchemy. 

Everything to make him deadly to anyone willing to come to their town with mischief on their mind. But serving his people was only a fraction of who he was. No he craved adventure.

And there was nothing more adventurous than the other world he’d been so heavily warned about. The dreams came to him in the deepest of the night. Visions of a town he’d never seen, filled with…humans. 

Rounded ears and people filling taverns, streets, music carrying into the night. It enchanted him in a way he’d never thought possible. But surely it was just a dream? They just kept coming.

One he was walking through the town, amongst the people bustling in the streets. In another dream he had danced along the cobblestone pathways, weaving in and out of the crowd. They no longer felt like dreams, they turned into visions, longings, cravings.

And Billy craved for nothing. All he desired he got. And he’d get this sure enough. Maybe it was just his unquenchable thirst for the unexplored that beckoned him to this new and dangerous place, maybe it was his ego wishing to be the first there and back to brag to his cohorts about what he’d seen.

Then he had another dream. 

A beautiful woman, dancing in tight circles in the darkened hall of some gathering place. Hair that shimmered in the candlelight and eyes that drank in the remaining moonlit glow from outside. A smirk upon her lips as she held out her hand to him.

“Billy-“ she softly whispered to him. Without thinking he’d extended his own hand, taking hers without question.

Then he’d woken up, morning light filling his bedroom and an intangible ache in his chest.

The gods were urging him forward, to go across the barrier and even if just for one night he’d experience what his dreams had been showing him. Sheathing a few extra blades for good measure in his leather doublet, making sure his cloak was clasped firmly at his throat.

He had his black glass dagger strapped to his thigh in case his dreams had been just that, dreams. And if anyone attempted to cross one of fae’s strongest soldiers. It would be the last thing they did. 

Blowing out the candles in his home as the last whisps of sunset fizzled in the sky, a full moon settling into a blanket of stars casting a silver glow over the gnarled path he took through the woods.

Branches and brambles stuck out, attempting to scratch at his cape and pants. Even the foliage of fae seemed to know what he was doing and begging him not to go. But he carried on, trudging along the darkened path.

When the far off lights from his town had faded and he was in near blackness Billy knew the wall was close. A sort of buzzing energy seemed to radiate around him. Magick. Protection. 

He saw the forest ahead of him but it seemed watery, hazy and unfocused. Reaching a cautious hand forward, fingers dipping into the strange mix of air and water and light. Sure enough he could feel a cool breeze dusting over his bare fingers on the other side.

He’d reached the barrier.

Pulling his hand back one last time, the opposite hand tracing over the area that had just broken through,  searching for any sign of immediate harm or injury. Having found none Billy once more looked around him before waving a hand around his head, casting a temporary glamour over his ears, but still pulling the hood up for good measure and stepping forward.

Unconsciously holding his breath as his body molded against the thick magick mixture that separated worlds. A buzzing feeling tingled through his entire body from the top of his head to the tips of his toes almost until it was unbearable. 

A pricking sensation and the smell of something burning, a metallic tang in his mouth and then cool breeze. Like he’d felt previously on his fingers. Sometime his eyes had squeezed shut, so he ventured to open one, examine his whereabouts.

He was still in the forest. He truly was just a few paces from where he’d been standing not a moment before. He’d done it. He’d crossed the barrier. A feeling of excitement bubbled up in his chest into his throat.

Dashing off through the rest of the forest, jumping over fallen trees and skipping around rocks, barely containing the laughter rising in his body. The air smelled the same, maybe a crisper tinge to it, the wind was certainly cooler.

The mortal realm experienced seasons more harshly than in fae, and here they must’ve been at summers end, harvest season beginning with fervor. He didn’t realize how fast he was running until he spotted bright lights in the distance,

Immediately dropping into a lower stance, walking through the brambles more quietly than any human could. That’s when he spotted them. A group of men laughing and talking as they stood by a horse drawn cart. Tossing back pints of something then laughing louder.

Billy cocked his head to the side, trying to make out what they were saying. Something about work and wives and rotten bets. But besides that Billy found himself just staring at them. Humans. In the flesh.

They didn’t seem threatening at all, on the contrary they seemed almost, jovial. Men ranging in age from early 20’s to maybe late 50’s if he could venture a guess. They clanked their drinks together before turning to disappear into the village.

Staying hidden for a moment more Billy could see the town was bustling. Throngs of people milling about, talking loudly and laughing. Then he heard music, drifting throughout, a mesmerizing tune. 

His mind said ‘trap’ but his body urged him forward. Standing to take stock of his things, patting the dagger on his thigh, the knives hidden in his doublet, hood pulled taut, he emerged from the safety of the woods.

He knew he was overthinking his every step but no one around seemed to care. They were too busy having a good time, singing along and chattering among themselves happily. There seemed to be a festival of some sort going on, foods stands lined one of the main streets, fragrant food smells filled the air.

Bards would gather by groups of people sitting or standing and sing out verses that were responded to in kind. He might as well have been invisible. A fly on the wall, watching everything go on around him. That is until he bumped into a very drunk man off to the side.

Bracing for a fight once the man spun around to see who’s path he’d wandered into, a huge smile spreading across his face as he saw Billy.

“Happy solstice my dear boy!” He slurred, raising his tankard high overhead and dumping the liquid contents into his mouth, most of it missing and dribbling down his beard and the front of his shirt. 

Billy found himself staring bemused at the man before laughing along with the mans friends. Pardoning himself as he continued on down the street, seeing vendors holding out their wares.

Perfumes, jewelry, wooden carved trinkets, an assortment of fabrics and items that were so familiar and yet so foreign to him. In fae there were almost markets like this, but their items were far more bizarre, at least he assumed they would be to any human.

Potions to grow taller, or enchanted horse shoes to make your steed run faster. Goblets that never emptied and rings that made the wearer more beautiful. There was no magick like that here, and yet these items ensorcelled him nonetheless.

They were magickal in their simplicity. He hadn’t brought money, or else he’d stop at every vendor and peruse for far longer. All he had back home was his money, a dead giveaway of what he was. 

At one of the carts selling baked goods and all sorts of floral arrangements Billy allowed himself to stop and take in the exorbitant fragrances. He felt a small tug on his doublet, causing him to look down, only to be met with the eyes of a small little girl.

She looked up at him in wonderment, a large smile playing upon her face. His blood froze for a second wondering if she could see through his glamour. Children were not as easily swayed by magick.

Adults believed what their eyes showed them, but children….not always. But instead she held up a flower, plucked from what must’ve been her parents cart. A vibrant purple hued rose, with velvety petals and a matching ribbon tied around it daintily.

Billy took the flower into his hand, lifted it to his nose and breathed deeply in the Scent. The little girl watched him, and as if satisfied by his gratitude she skipped off to join her parents who were packing up some of their baked goods to a willing customer.

Was this what he was told to fear? Drunken men and little girls offering roses? Surely this couldn’t be it. Granted they knew not of who he was, but he expected judgement, a wary eye on the outsider. A stern look from passerby’s at this hooded man traipsing through their village.

He didn’t feel any of those things. If anything everyone seemed caught up in their own business and enjoying their evening as the moonlight spilled over the cobblestone streets. They seemed positively, happy. 

Loud jovial music rang out and Billy followed the sound. Loud booms of laughter continued and fast paced fiddle music wafted out into the road from the tavern before him. The Drunken Faery. He couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.

Pushing against the heavy wooden door, sneaking past fellow patrons searching for the source of music. It’s packed full, all asses and elbows and yet everyone seems to be in high spirits. 

The drinking and feasting continued as he passes tables, shouldering past a few of the more drunken patrons. The crowd surges forward as the music starts up again, dancing towards the sound. 

He’d never felt claustrophobic before but this was almost too much. Billy pushed past the last tightly knit group on men before finally reaching the counter where an older man was pouring pints and sending them down the wooden surface to waiting hands. 

From this vantage point he could better take in the full expanse of the tavern without being squashed between multiple guests. 

Wrought iron sconces with fat candles dripping wax onto the fixture, chandeliers of deer antlers, a large fireplace centered in the room with abundant flames being stoked to warm the already hot environment.

Swaths of rich fabric hung decoratively along the walls and ceiling, some banners with crests. Huge casks of ale sat nestled off to the side, only a matter of time until they were broken into.

“Can I get you something?” A lilting voice rang out over the loud squabbling and high pitched music. Billy turned to come face to face with the bartender across from him .A woman.

Hair that shimmered in the candlelight and eyes that drank the moonlight greedily from the nearest window.

His mouth ran dry, probably gaping like a fish. But he could barely form words, this woman. The woman from his dreams, in the flesh. 

“Judging by that look I’d say you’re in desperate need of something strong.” You smirked, turning away to grab the nearest clean mug, running a towel around the rim for good measure before pouring a hearty serving of mead. Sliding the mug over to him in one fell swoop.

His eyes never left your face as his hands firmly grasped the handle, lifting the mead to his lips, drinking deeply. You propped an elbow on the counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand watching him.

His eyes briefly fluttered shut as his throat worked, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of the liquid. Soon it had tapered down to nearly a few drops, mug once again meeting with the counter as he wiped at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Ya know…it’s suspicious seeing a hooded figure with an unfamiliar face in my tavern.” You mused watching his face for any sign of concern.

“I’m merely passing through. The festivities drew me in.” He responded in kind, tilting his head this way and that surveying the ruckus the crowd now seemed to be making. Music carrying in louder than before.

“Whereabouts are you from?” Curiosity tinged each of your words. You knew this entire village inside and out. Who was a drunkard, who was stealing, who was attempting to buy love potions from the fae, and who was getting into trouble.

There was of course the fair share of passerbys but most you could take one look at them and pin point where they were coming from. Most were from the lowlands, the main city, smaller towns dotting along. Even occasionally northerners coming down from their rocky outcroppings to take in new sights.

But this man. He didn’t give off the look of either. Pale skin, paler than those from the highlands even. Eyes as black as night, it was hard to even discern where his iris ended and pupil began. Far too dark to be from the mainland. 

The way his features settled on his face, as though carved with intention. Beautiful. Mysterious. It was hard to see under the hood but you could see his eyebrows were a dark brown hinting that the rest of his hair may be similar. 

“I came from the forests up north. A very small town.” 

“North Point or Versell?” You quirked a brow up waiting for his response. His stare never faltered  as he responded.

“North Point.” 

You clicked your tongue, picking up a nearby dirty glass, running a damp rag along the edges.

“Shame about the fire. I hope the town is able to rebuild better, lucky you weren’t harmed.” 

“Yes well, I was very lucky.” He was good. Barely batting an eye in response, body never altering posture.  

You leaned forward grabbing his mug and refilling it from the cask behind you, handing it back to his waiting hands. Billy took another long drink from the cup before setting it down off to the side this time.

You watched him intently. He was by far the most interesting person you’d encountered in a long time. And that was saying a lot given where you worked.

“Do you…have a name?” You inquired, wiping down your hand with a dry cloth that you kept tucked into the leather belt on your hips. 

Those dark eyes remained transfixed on your face. He didn’t give much away but you could almost hear the cogs turning in his head, wondering if it was wise to share that info with you. 

“Billy.” No title, no surname. Cut and dry.

You really liked this man. Whether that was his name or not you chose to use it.

“Well Billy, seeing as you’ve downed two casks of mead how is it you might be paying?” 

You felt your lips quirk up as for the first time he appeared caught off guard. As if not realizing payment was required in an establishment such as this. He patted along the front of his doublet, hands moving down to his leather breeches searching for some coin.

When it dawned on him he had nothing to pay with for the first time in maybe his entire life he felt somewhat embarrassed. How had you so easily persuaded him into taking something knowing he had no money to pay? 

Another seconds thought and he reached up under his cloak searching for something. You felt your muscles stiffen momentarily, unsure if he intended to draw a weapon and make a break for it, but what he did instead caught you even more off guard.

From under the cloak he produced a flower. A single rose, fragrant and full. Petals so dark, if the candlelight wasn’t there you’d assume it was black. It almost matched his eyes. 

Held out in offering to you. You reached forward grasping the stem, careful of the thorns, fingering the soft silky ribbon tied neatly in a bow. 

“Will this suffice?” You didn’t look at him as you touched each petal individually, it was beautiful. Beauty barely existed In this village anymore. 

Fetching a small glass of water you placed the flower in it, off to the side where no drunk patrons could fumble and knock it down, before turning back to Billy. Gathering your skirts in one hand and making your way around the counter before holding a hand out to him.

“Give me a dance and you’ll be paid in full.” 

He examined your hand, an odd look in his eyes but eventually you felt the warmth of his fingers slide into your own and you were pulling him through the crowd. 

People danced all around you, loud singing, pipes, and bells rang out producing a cacophony of sound that had you grinning from ear to ear. It was your favorite time of the year. 

Summer had come to a close and there was a nip to the air. Promise of renewal, first it was slow then it’d come all at once. This was the soft kiss of the year, the moment before lips parted and the cold filled the air once more.

You spared a glance back at Billy, hand still firmly in yours, his eyes darted around taking in the sights, pushing shoulder to shoulder with those you both passed. Soon you reached the center of the large space, though it was packed you managed to claim one unoccupied area just as the band worked up again.

The flute picked up pace, followed closely by the harp and pipes. Cheers rang out and clapping began, everyone falling into a ring, women to one side and men to the other. 

You playfully pushed him to the mens side and you caught, if only for a second, mirth in his eyes. Clapping continued as the circle moved, each side responding in kind to the others.

Women swayed their skirts, shooting coy glances to their counterparts before clapping hands and spinning once, twice, three times in accompaniment. It went on and on, then it was your turn.

Sashaying to the center where Billy now resided, the other men having fallen back behind him to his momentary shock and amusement. Twirling around him, tracing a finger along the front of his chest to the center of his back, skirts fisted in your left hand.

You were about to continue on teasingly to the laughter of those around you but gasped as you felt strong hands clasp at your waist, lifting you high up, before setting you down, those same hands spinning you outwards then back in.

Landing softly into his arms, dipping low, the lights seemed to blare around you as you looked up to be met with Billy’s dark eyes, an actual grin broke across his face having taken you by utter and complete surprise.

You barely had time to register you were moving again when suddenly you were once more upright being spun back to your origin in the line, laughter and clapping erupted as you two joined back to your respective places.

The song continued on for a few more minutes but you didn’t hear it, all you could focus on was the mysterious man across from you. Clapping in time with the others but clearly not one of them.

Could anyone else see it or was it only you?

Soon the song ended and before the next one began You’d made your way over to your dance partner pulling him off to the side still breathless.

“You dance quite well.” His eyes crinkled along with the small smile on his lips.

“That’s how its taught in North Point.” He responded before his expression changed, looking out the nearest window. You followed his gaze seeing nothing only the moon, much lower in the sky now. “Walk with me before I go.” 

You only nodded, not sure how to respond. Feeling a small pin prick of worry at the thought of him leaving. Would you ever see him again?

You two pushed through the throngs of people, even though the night was late many still lined the streets and corners. The rush of cool crisp air providing respite from the clogged scents of the tavern.

Standing for a moment he surveyed the people milling about, laughing and talking as if he were seeing it for the first time. He didn’t turn to you when he spoke next, “This celebration, what is it?” 

You walked up closer to him, noticing how much he towered over your own frame.

“It’s the autumnal solstice.” 

His brows drew together in thought, pondering the words.

“It’s strange, to celebrate a time when crops will soon die and cold approaches.” 

“No it’s beautiful. Autumn is nature’s last vibrant battle cry before fading into the softness of quiet renewal.” 

He turned to you then, examining your face with the same effort and discernment he had just done on the townsfolk and village. His throat worked, words unspoken seemed to drift behind his eyes.

Lifting a hand to caress the side of your cheek, you leaned into it, the warmth, the tenderness and silent strength and something else sparked in the back of your mind.

“I must go.” 

“Will you return?” You barely gave men the time of day, waiting on them bored you and their company never thrilled you, and yet with him….

“North Point is far away. I’m not sure.” He adjusted his cloak once more, you found yourself wondering how it had stayed so perfectly in place during your dance. The absence of where his hand had been suddenly felt very cold.

He took off, walking carefully over the cobblestones and into the night.

“It must be lonely-“ you called out, watching him pause in his gait. “To live in a town that’s been abandoned for 200 years.” 

Watching, waiting for a reaction. Yes North Point had had a fire blaze through it. Hundreds of years ago, you knew for a fact that no one occupied its residences ever since, all having moved to Vesell. 

He only hesitated a moment, never looking back, and then continuing on into the darkness until you could no longer seem him, left to wonder about where it was he truly was going.

[icaruspendragon]

As someone who was involved in a lot of this from May 2022-October 2022, I said a lot of mean and hurtful things to people who didn’t deserve it simply because I was told we were supposed to hate them. I thought I could trust my friends judgement on those folks and I didn’t do any further digging. And that was wrong of me. I had to own up to that. And I did. I reached out to the people I said unkind things about and apologized for things they didn’t even know I’d said.  And it was hard. And it sucked. And I felt like a shitty person. But I was a shitty person when I was involved with that in-group. But I got out, realized just how awful I had been, and took accountability for it. I have no problem admitting to how shitty I was to people who didn’t deserve it because it was the right thing to do.  I firmly believe everyone can change, and I sincerely hope everyone involved does change. I know I had to. 

I’m saying this not to pat myself off the back, but to say that even though I was in an abusive situation, it didn’t give me an excuse to be cruel to people back. And these were people who truly didn’t deserve the mean things I said about them. They were people who deserved for me to stand up for them when I didn’t. This is me taking ownership and accountability for my own role in the harm that was caused. Because I was truly sorry I did it. And those people I was so mean to? I owned up to my shitty behavior. They're some of my closest friends now because they’re genuinely good people. Because they forgave me when they didn’t have to. And I got to stand in support and solidarity with those people when they finally felt like they could come forward and share the abuse they had gone through. And they stood with me while I shared my own stories.  In situations like this, that’s literally all anyone wants. Ownership and true remorse. And it's hard and it sucks but everyone comes out the other side being a better person. 

Amends

I don't usually dip my toe in the drama pool. At least not too deeply. But what's going on in fandom this week, the revelations, were extreme. The people who have come forward... they were in a cult. I am not being overdramatic about this. Gamifying harassment, forcing disconnections like Scientology, needing everyone to observe the same talking points or risk ostracism, leadership using it for money, criminal behavior towards those The Guru has deemed the Out-Group including members who don't conform heavily enough... That's a cult. The internet has made cult behavior REALLY easy. Likes and engagement make you suddenly aware of which direction your circle is leaning. If you agree, YOU TOO GET POINTS. You too will experience that sense of belonging, and that's what it's all about. So if your circle is being outright mean... if you don't want to be cast off as "not one of them"... maybe you say the mean thing too, even if it's a lie, even if you're not really sure why you're saying it. That approval feels SUPER GOOD and is addictive. And your circle amps each other up, gets meaner and meaner. The only people who stay in the in-group are those who don't speak up about the bad behavior and are willing to keep going along with it. Those aren't friendships. It's a pack of hungry carnivores. It's the same behaviors police gangs use on cops who speak up. I do have some sympathy, especially for the younger people who were still forming their identities. They were victims of indoctrination and criminal harassment. That said, they have to own their own behavior. I hope they learn and grow. They're going to have to have some self-reflection on what they've done, the lies told, the hate, the virulent -isms that were expressed, and literal crimes that were performed in the name of fitting in and winning some points with the clique. They're also going to have to reassess who their out-group is, why they even NEED an out-group over fandom things, and if there are still people in their schema who they have an impulse to hate for no reason.... because of a ship or actor preference. They're going to have to question all the lies they were told and if they are still holding onto hate based on that. That's hard if they aren't even sure what the lies were. It's going to be a process for them. We should give people the space and grace to get better. To deprogram themselves. But this does not mean there needs to be automatic forgiveness. Nobody needs to like anyone. But nobody needs to hate anyone either. Maybe the middle ground is we can grow some indifference or the ability to say, "I'm letting it go, this person is in progress, I can't control their journey, the ball is in their court."

If you were behaving badly, you've earned the suspicion of the people you hurt. A few of you are expressing amends, which is wonderful. But part of the thing with making amends is that you don't get to control the outcome. You make a genuine apology for EXACTLY what you've done, you own your part in it, and you don't make excuses... and from there, people may accept what you've said and they may not. They may forgive you immediately, they may take time, they may never forgive you. You have to learn to be good with that. It can be uncomfortable, to feel disliked, ESPECIALLY if the reason you got into the cult was because of that sense of belonging. Your impulse may be to keep giving explanations of how the group influenced you, to distance yourself. You may tell yourself, "I'm not that person, this isn't really me, it was the group." You want to be seen as CHANGED - virginal and new because you made the hard choice to finally leave the cult. ...It isn't that easy. You want the space and grace and you should get that. But guess what? You need to give that to others, too. You need to understand that people have real reasons to distrust you if you were exhibiting cruelty. And part of doing the work to make amends is the actual work. If you're serious about it, it means a lot of difficult self-reflection. You need to take an unflinching look at WHY you could ignore or participate in racism and lord knows plenty of other -isms, why outright defamation and death threats to actors and other fans were okay, why doxing people and trying to get them fired was seen as fair game, why trying to make someone feel hated and terrible about themselves was your impulse, why you were giggling and congratulating yourself for leaning into your worst impulses...until the group turned on you. Because that's the truth of the situation. You now have that self-knowledge of what you're willing to participate in. The question now is what are you going to do with that? I hope it includes therapy and I don't mean that glibly. I think it's possible there are some internet addictions going on where people crave the rush of getting Likes and engagement... and ragefarming is the best way to get engagement. If that's true... it will be EXTREMELY easy to move from the space of performing FOR the cult to performing AGAINST them, so that you can maintain your hit of Likes. And that is just sitting in the same behaviors. But if you're serious about getting better, if you're serious about being honest with yourself, you're going to need to fight against those inclinations. Please ask yourselves if you truly feel your apologies and want to change...or if maybe some part of you is just posting your attempt at amends because you want to fit in with those leaving or because you're craving that approval. Leaving is great! But are you getting the same psychological hit from your posts now? Are you trying to collect a new group that will lovebomb you because you're seeking self-esteem and miss the people who used to give it to you? I'm not saying this in judgment, I'm saying it because many people go from one cult or MLM to another, seeking that same sense of belonging. That's not my wish for you.

To the people on the other side of this... I'm not saying not to speak up if you see people slipping or people whose apologies are revealed as false words. I'm not trying to tone police people getting angry. There have been real reasons to be angry. HOWEVER... please be aware that if we want people to actually learn and grow we need to give them room to do that. There's nothing wrong with a really direct "This is really shitty and unkind behavior." Going scorched earth every time isn't the way. Is it our responsibility to motivate them to change, is it on us? Absolutely not. But are our actions going to unintentionally make them more likely to try and find a gang again because they're feeling defensive? If we also truly want to make things better, we have to ask ourselves what our goal is. Do we just want to give a tongue-lashing because we're angry? We might. And that can be justified sometimes in life. But cornered people don't often make great decisions. If what we want out of this is for people to be less terrible - there are ways to call people in and out, firmly and not sugarcoated, while still not going on the attack.

To the people who finally spoke up, you should be proud of yourselves for that. You took the first step. I hope you keep walking forward.

If you actually read to here... holy crap, I apologize. Many, many words, but I wanted to put them all down somewhere instead of continuing to overthink it at 3:30am. I do want to say... this is just my perspective. If it came off as trying to tell you how to do or feel, or like I think I'm perfect? Nah, kids. I'm a fallible screw-up, too, who is often "cringe," as the children say. We can all work on ourselves. At least that's the hope. If we're open to it.

Anyway. Love y'all, TGC