#but i just tend to really not like it when dick has one… object permanency baby issues

[bluegarners]

You don’t like the beard? Didn’t Dick grow one in your fanfic????

maybe??? i think i just wrote him growing stubble, and i pretty much use any facial hair growth as a sign of mental/stability decline, not necessarily as like a haircut choice. however!! that doesn’t mean i see all facial hair as indicative of poor mental health, that’s just how i see it for any character that is typically clean shaven and well kept

[brotherslayer]

I've never seen what magic usage looks like in VADD but if I were to build a magic system for that setting I'd do one where magic is harnessed/activated via complex arrays and formulas and equations, an incomplete one won't activate and one must take great care to not get stuff incorrect. Best case scenario the magic won't activate, worst case scenario your flesh might just slough off your bones and you die a horrible death. Or blast an area. Or both. Magic is dangerous. Imagine Penny (OG Penelope ofc, it's me you're talking to) hurriedly scribbling a formula on an alley wall in a foggy setting, just in time for the area to burst into flame when her pursuers get there and she's a safe distance away. Pre-written formulas, intentionally incomplete so that the wizard can just add the one component needed to activate it on the fly... I tend to visualize VADD's setting as very grim and foggy in aesthetics for some reason, so yeah. “Bounded Fields” aka an area surrounded by an array that can serve multiple purposes depending on the symbols included— wanna drain the life force of anyone who intrude? Wanna punt them away from the guarded area? Zap them really hard with electricity? Just wanna sense whoever trespasses the boundary? That sort of stuff would be also cool. Maybe symbols can be etched onto objects to give them certain properties, permanently or no.

As for WMMAP, I haven't gotten a solid rule down but I'd like to think magic is more diverse and fluid, not so rigid as the array-bound wizardry of what I gave VADD. Want to strengthen your body by channeling magic into it? Yeah! Crafting magical artefacts? Sure! Reinforce objects, temporarily or not, via magic? Hell yeah! Illusions? Fireballs? Sure thing! Conjuring stuff, or outright transforming them into smth else entirely? Uhhhh that's not gonna be possible, sorry.

If you conjure an object, the world itself tries to reject and eliminate it, the same way our bodies eliminate any foreign entity that enters it. Conjured objects don't last long, maybe a couple minutes at most. If a mage tries to hold their existence longer than it should exist the object begins to warp. Glitch. Becomes a weird thing that... isn't the object as we knew it originally. We become unable to perceive it normally let alone make use of it. If some maniac decide to specialize in that, then well good fucking luck to them. Transformations don't also tend to last long, if you hold it past its limit it's gonna glitch and disintegrate just like the conjured object did.

On that topic, I kinda see Jennette's creation as trying to bypass that law of nature, as did past Obelian emperors. I don't have the specific mechanics down yet, but the way the royals' mana gets too out of control it's actively killing them... sounds a lot like nature trying to reject individuals of such massive mana because they're unnatural going by our own theory of “Obelian royals did black magic and incest to increase mana volume but also keep kids alive”. Have their cake and eat it too. But black magic too has a price to pay and it eventually catches up anyways. So... yeah.

Pre-written formulas...that's a unique idea! I can picture incomplete formulas and equations scratched or engraved into the wall plaster of taverns and houses in balatant sight of the authorities and no one pays it any mind. Powerful defense and attack spells that survived from ancient civilizations but they are interpreted as a kid's doodles or an act of vandalism and either ignored or scrubbed away. Imagine a magician's child unaware of their origins accidentally activating an attack spell by writing something silly like adding dick drawing to a prewritten formula and blasting an entire city wall away without meaning to. The anti-magic faction would, of course, use these incidents of accidental magic to demonize magicians further. Penelope could've had her first contact with magic when she was still living in the slums, hiding in a dark alley from the guards that are chasing her because she stole a loaf of bread, her fingers are itching, in the darkness she find the engravings in stone and finishes the escape spell almost out of instinct, writing it out with the dirt and blood on her hands.

For wmmap I have the rough idea that you essentially drain your own life force to use magic, contrary to baby Jennette who probably drained the life from Penny and I hc is later capable of draining it from the people around her. Using your own life force isn't a problem with the Obelia family since they are practically immortal and possess an extraordinary amount of mana. The non-wizards are simply people who have barely enough mana to life. Magic use would almost definitely kill them. And having someone force magic into you is also bad for their bodies since they aren't meant to contain that much mana. Lore-wise I have some ideas how the Obelias became that powerful including them stealing a fruit of the world tree, which turned them into half gods and made the world tree unable to go against them since they now possess the same type of mana. It'd also explain why Athy is linked with the world (prophetic dreams) and has permission to change the essence of the world.

Just like you I don't like the idea that you can just conjure objects out of nothing with no repercussions or whatsoever. I'd prefer a Law of Equivalent Exchange or that you can turn an object into the one you want for a short amount of time provided they share a similarity. Turning wood into a gold coin would be harder than a key from metal for example. And it might not last as long until the spell wears off.

About Jennette...yup I too see her as a conjured object. Except she has been created from a scratch of something and has to be constantly fed (mana maybe?) to prevent warping or disappearing entirely. It's possible that she could achieve a human like status if she has consummed enough souls/or mana and lived long enough as a human. Basically fake it until you make it.

The world tries to eliminate her as it does to all things that don't belong there (I hc that this is also one of the reasons why most wizards don't travel between parallel worlds. Your are basically putting a target on your back. And if the world doesn't manage to kill you it kills your other self and traps you in the world you travelled to because only one of you two has a place there.) Anyway I think it starts really harmless in her childhood with small accidents that get bigger, more frequent and more complex as she ages. For example at first it's just a flower pot almost falling on her head but suddenly there are bizarre accidents happening around her caused by an unseen force creating complicated chains of cause and effect, that most often than not harms those around her instead of herself. Her magic doesn't neutralize the curse it only repells it. It kind of bounces off her and clings to the person she is closest to, leading at best to a serious injury and at worst to their untimely end. Even if ther black magic is there to protect their host, it still can't go against its nature to destroy.

The world becomes slowly aware of Jennette's presence and tries to reject her. Did the world once see her only as an annoying fly and tried to swat her occationally when she gets involved in the prewritten destiny of others, it now sees her as something sacrilegious against God, a wretched thing that tries to disrupt the order of the universe. I imagine it gets worse the more Jennette interacts with other people (and inevitably twists their destiny). So when Jennette, someone who shouldn't have existed in the first place, gets put as the ruler of the Empire on the throne, a position where all the threads converge to link up the world/story, the universe is furious. Perhaps the poisoning incident was set in motion by this mysterious force and originally meant to kill Jennette (fr why would Rosalia do something risky like poisoning her own niece to get rid of Athy who wasn't even first in line to the throne? isn't risking Jennette's life to get Athy exiled a little bit too extreme considering Athy posed no threat to her?) but her black magic protected her and Athy was the one who ended up dying. A life for a life. Magic always demands a price. And Athy was the perfect price to pay to justify her existence since they were both too similar to one another.

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier Dungeons and Dragons AU of my dreams (inspired by the TAD AMA and Joey apparently being an amazing dm):

-"Why do you hate fun," Eskel complains - for the fifth time that day - after Geralt refused his invitation to a new DnD campaign - for the fifth time that day. Geralt doesn't hate fun. He hates play-acting and games, especially if they rely on luck and are overly complicated, he hates big groups of people, and he hates being told stories. Dungeons and Dragons encompasses all of those aspects and that is why Geralt avoids it like the plague. "It's not for me," he mutters and hands Eskel the sandwiches he made for him to take to work. - "But this Jaskier guy is legendary, like I heard he's the best Dungeonmaster in the state." - "Likely an exaggeration...." - "Pleeaaaase. I had to bribe the hell out of Aiden to have him give up the two spots he had." That piques Geralt's interest. "What'd you bribe him with?" Eskel scratches his head sheepishly. "I may have sold our brother's hand in marriage." - "That's ballsy for you... does Lambert know of his luck yet?" Eskel shakes his head and Geralt huffs a laugh. His brothers are unbelievable, one so nerdy it makes up for Geralt's complete lack of interest in pop culture, the other an oblivious prick that tends to get arrested for being offensive. Ciri is their only hope. "So are you coming?" - "Absolutely no way."

-Geralt doesn't want to go and until half an hour before the game is supposed to start, he keeps his resolve. But then Eskel bursts into their shared living room - their flat is still attached to their father's house, but separate enough that it feels like their own; Lambert has a type penthouse suite to himself and Ciri still lives with Vesemir in the main house - with an excited blush and wearing a WoW shirt and the biggest, brightest puppy eyes, and begs Geralt on hands and knees to come with him. "Why though?" Geralt asks. "Would be more fun if I stayed away..." - "But I'm awkward and your pretty face may distract from that." - "Esk, we have the same face." Which is true, save for... oh. The scars. Of course, Geralt wants to smack himself. Eskel always tends to be more self-conscious in groups of new people because of his marred face, an accident in the zoo when they were young. He believes having Geralt with him shows other people how he is supposed to look like. Geralt doesn't believe it's a great coping mechanism, but he can never deny his twin anything. "Fuck," he grumbles and a triumphant grin blooms over Eskel's features.

-That first session is to go over the basics for anyone who needs a refresher and to talk about what each player expects from the campaign bla bla bla; Geralt doesn't contribute more than the odd grunt and is soon distracted by Jaskier's bright eyes, his pretty mouth, his whole energetic demeanor... he develops a little fixation over the course of the evening and gives up on trying to understand the game

-Jaskier approaches him after, while everyone else is exchanging notes on their characters, excited and electric and Geralt hasn't the first clue on what to do. A light hand on his shoulder, a welcoming smile. "Geralt, right?" Geralt nods curtly and Jaskier pulls up a chair and sits. Way too close for Geralt's comfort. He doesn't... mind? Fuck are those butterflies? Already? "If you have trouble figuring out your character, we could always do a private session to get you going. What do you say?" - "Saturday," Geralt grunts in reply. Jaskier claps delightedly, then is distracted by one of the women, Calanthe Geralt recalls, asking if she can play a lioness shapeshifter. He lets Eskel collect him, endures his brother's constant prattle on the ride back. He dares to give the whole thing a shot.

-Their private session starts out with Jaskier explaining different classes of characters, a few bottles of Geralt's favourite Redanian Lager on the side. He tries to listen, at least at first. But then Jaskier keeps licking froth from his lips and some of the perspiration from the cold bottles runs down his exposed neck and fuck, Geralt just can't stop himself. Eskel said over and over that Jaskier was basically a magician, but Geralt thought that would be restricted to the game. Nope. His dick definitely twitches when Jaskier leans over him to grab the dice Geralt brought upon Eskel's recommendation. Geralt catches a whiff of his shampoo - vanilla? - and Jaskier's arm brushes Geralt and well. He lets out a low whine. Jaskier hums a question mark, but when he sees the look on Geralt face his encouraging smile turns devilish, knowing. "Good," he breathes, drops the dice and climbs onto Geralt's lap. "I thought it was only me." Geralt catches Jaskier's hips and they kiss. No classes are studied that day, no alignments picked, no attributes determined. Instead, Geralt learns all the beautiful noises Jaskier can make, learns some of his own anew. They will need another private session to make up for lost time

-"Perhaps I should just design a character for you," Jaskier pants into Geralt's neck as he slow-fucks him on their couch, Eskel being out with Lambert to clear up the whole Aiden thing. It's the third time they're meeting to figure out Geralt's character. Geralt grunts and accelerates just enough to keep them both on the edge. His skin is burning and Jaskier writhes, his shoulders littered with bite marks. "Oh, fuck, Geralt, please." Later, Geralt agrees to Jaskier's suggestion. He makes him pancakes for breakfast.

-When the first session is well underway, everyone quickly realizes that this game really isn't for Geralt. He tries, he does. Jaskier was kind, gave him a stoic half-orc warrior that communicates mostly with grunts, but he still doesn't get all the rules and Calanthe is getting impatient with him, her boyfriend Eist amused by this, and Eskel keeps throwing the dice for Geralt, and these girls, Téa and Véa, stare daggers at him. Jaskier's watches it all with amusement, gently steering the group back towards their adventure - not that Geralt has the first clue what their objective is. But Geralt wants to keep playing if only because Jaskier is so fucking beautiful in his element, imitating voices, using the most ridiculous vocabulary, glowing with pure joy. It's a privilege to see, Geralt understands that now. And he has to thank Eskel for taking him despite his reservations

-"Won't you go on a normal date with me?" Geralt asks one night when they are wrapped up in Jaskier's bed, contented and tired from their earlier activities. "I could take you hunting or whatever." - "That's what you call a normal date?" Jaskier laughs and kisses him lightly. They haven't defined whatever it is they're doing, but Geralt is in no rush. Especially because he hasn't yet dared to breach the topic with Eskel who quickly befriended Jaskier (and everyone else of course, at the end of the day Eskel is a social butterfly, no matter what scars he bears). "Just... go out with me." - "You know, usually I have a strict policy for dating players, but... well that's already way out the window so, yeah, okay. I'll go out with you. But we're absolutely not going hunting, I'm a vegetarian." Alas, there had to be some catch.

-Geralt keeps playing and his permanent confusion becomes part of his character as well. It isn't ideal, but the others - and Jaskier's forgiving storytelling - drag him through to the end of it. By then, Geralt almost gets it. "Well," Jaskier concludes. "That was a bit of a different campaign. Hope you all liked it." The bastard acts abashed. Hah. Geralt and Eskel are the last ones to leave after they all toasted and talked about playing again some time. "You coming?" Eskel asks, hovering near the door. He's long past his initial anxiety, his fangirling, his self-consciousness. That too has been a glorious part of this, seeing Eskel unfold, gain confidence, be at ease. He likes that he could give his brother the safety he needed. "I, uhm," Geralt starts, but Jaskier interrupts by threading his arm through Geralt's. "We are! What's for dinner?" And he drags Geralt past Eskel who raises a brow. Geralt tries to communicate with his eyes all he neglected to tell Eskel. It's only because they're so close that Eskel at least understands that they are something like boyfriends now. He laughs.

-"My baby brother," Eskel lulls later when Jaskier is already passed out from too much wine and Geralt and him stand outside, sharing a rare cigarette. He ruffles Geralt head. "I'd wondered why you stuck around so long." - "Fuck off," Geralt says.

-The next time Eskel invites him to a campaign, Geralt tags along. Not because he particularly wants to, but because now there are two pairs of puppy eyes, begging him, and he can't say no to either of them, let alone both (maybe someday he will actually enjoy the game for its own merits)

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 29: Into the Empty Storm

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

You have more questions than answers and are starting to think that maybe there aren't any answers. When you wake up, Chen provides you with some but maybe they aren't what you wanted to hear. You have a crisis of faith- but pick yourself back up. Change is coming.

A/N: Change IS coming, on like... Saturday. That's when the choice is! I'm letting you know now that the choice is a weird mundane choice that will change the story! Also, it's almost my birthday, and all I want is more free time to write y/n and these boys LOL. Hope you are all well. Smooches. (title is from a song called believe in nothing, i steal many titles from song lyrics)

Part 28 Part 30 Chapter Index

Your eyes fluttered open.

Your head was splitting but the stone ceiling was at least familiar.

What happened?

Everything was fuzzy. You tried sit up, but your body was too heavy and your arms too weak. Your fingers were tingling and numb, your muscles sore as if they had gone unused for weeks.

“Oh! You’re awake!” Chen’s voice came from your right, but this was not the infirmary. Your stomach was in knots and your shoulder was stiff. You sat up to greet your friend anyway, but your body objected with pain. “Whoa, whoa, hey slow down!” Chen carefully helped you lay back and then propped your head up a bit higher when you tried to sit up again. You were in your room. You hadn’t recognized it immediately.

You were confused.

“Why?” You choked out and then cleared your throat. Your mouth tasted like you hadn’t talked in just as long as your body hadn’t been used. Chen looked nervous and weary, like she hadn’t slept in just as long. “Why do I feel like this?”

“What exactly do you remember?” Chen hesitated. You closed your eyes and tried to remember how you’d gotten there.

That was right. It had been chaos.

“Everything went to hell when I touched the artifacts and…” You knitted your brow and tried to remember. “Oh, god, then Raiden tried to read me and that’s… that’s all I remember.” Your shoulder ached at the memory. There had been nothing else after that. Only pain.

“That was… Y/N, that was three days ago.” Chen braced herself for your panicked response. You stayed silent. Three days? How was that possible? It had felt like both a blink and an eternity of pain and darkness.

“What?” Your stomach dropped and it occurred to you now that there was an IV in your arm. Chen had likely been there the whole time keeping an eye on your vitals and making notes. There was a bedroll on the ground nearby as if to validate your thoughts. Why there? Why weren’t you in the infirmary? You already knew the answer.

You were too dangerous.

Three days was too long to be unconscious.

Your hands were still tingling. That was right. Raiden had shocked you because you had nearly killed Liu Kang and Kung Lao.

“Is Liu okay? Kung Lao?” Whatever had happened to you was less important.

“One thing at a time, Y/N.” Chen tried to urge you to lay back as you tried to sit up, but you shoved her hand away. “Please lay down. You need to take it easy, okay? You had… a little just… don’t panic when I say it, okay?”

“Tell me and then I’ll decide if it warrants panic or not.”

“I don’t want to make you any worse.”

“You not telling me is making it worse.”

“Just try to remember that it’s more complicated than what I’m about to say.”

“Would you just say it already?”

“You had a heart thing.”

You froze. Your ears were suddenly ringing. A heart thing? What kind of heart thing? What did that mean? You let Chen help you lay back down so you could focus on taking calm and deep breaths. Chen was checking your pulse on your wrist and watching you with concerned dark eyes.

A heart thing.

You were young! Healthy! Or at least you had been before those assholes had broken into your dojo and turned your life upside down. This wasn’t fair.

You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath until Chen was shaking your arm to remind you to breathe. You exhaled and your lungs ached in response. They’d been deprived of too much oxygen too many times now. You finally turned back to Chen whose brow was set in a permanent line of concern.

“Are you okay?”

“You said it was more complicated. How?”

“It wasn’t a heart attack. It was a cardiac incident. You don’t… there are no blockages or anything causing it, but…”

“Isn’t it still the same thing? Heart fails?” You didn’t know much about medicine but you’d seen enough bad Korean dramas to know that the two things were similar.

“It’s different, okay? Your heart is strong, Y/N. You’ll recover. It’s just going to take a bit.”

“I am so fucking tired of my fucking body just… fucking betraying me. Fuck. Just… fuck.” You wanted to rub your hand over your face but you felt so weak that you could have screamed in frustration if you had the energy. Instead, you continued to swear beneath your breath. Chen covered her mouth and laughed, her cheeks pink. Really? That made her blush? She could make dick jokes all day long but swear words made her blush? “I can’t seem to catch a fucking break.”

“It’ll be okay, Y/N. I promise.” Chen had a rare moment of seriousness and offered your hand a comforting squeeze.

“I know.” You heaved a sigh and closed your eyes, taking a few deep cleansing breaths. “I know.” You finally calmed and were able to lift your hand enough to rub over the gauze on your shoulder. It was aching. “I just had to get it out of my system.”

“I get it.” Chen pulled your hand away from the gauze. “Careful with that, please. I’m still trying to get that thing under control and understand what it is.”

“It’s the crack from that godforsaken bell Kung Lao and I found in Japan.” You said in a mocking tone that made Chen laugh again. You should have left the damn things where they were. Things had only escalated far beyond your control since you’d gotten back. You’d felt like you’d made progress before then. “Can you help me sit up?”

“I heard that part of the story. We’re trying to figure out what kind of a connection could cause that. Raiden’s still going with curse. Going with god-curse now actually.”

“Oh. Great.” You let Chen help you sit up and then scooted back against the pillows that Chen adjusted for you. You leaned your head back against the cold stone of the wall behind the bed and breathed a sigh of relief. It had taken tremendous effort to sit upright but you felt better now that you had. If you hadn’t used your body in three days, it would take some getting used to your muscles being used again. Thankfully, it hadn’t been any longer.

“Yeah, I imagine that can’t mean anything good. He didn’t tell me much more, just that it was important to tend to it and report any changes. I don’t think I was supposed to hear everything that I did.” Chen tended to the mess of medical supplies that she had set on the floor by your desk.

“You’re good at that.”

“Sometimes being a gossip comes in handy, Y/N.”

“You didn’t answer me before. Are Liu and Lao alright?”

“Lao’s fine. Not even a scrape. He’s proud of that.” Chen smiled sympathetically. “Liu needed a few stitches but he’ll heal up in no time. He’s resilient. Doesn’t ever complain. It’s sweet how worried you are for them.” You weren’t sure that you would ever forget the way that his blood had felt splattering on your skin. You’d been the one to hurt him. He’d been trying to save you from yourself and it had backfired. He’d tell you not to feel guilty but you felt guilty, dammit. There was no way around it. They had been so angry with Raiden for pushing you but you had volunteered to do what you did. It was important even if it had been the wrong choice. You hoped they weren’t losing their minds over you being out for so long. If you had been waiting on one of them to wake up then you would have been going completely crazy.

You wanted them to be okay.

“Thank you.” You were grateful that Chen was there to reassure you and take care of your health. You guessed that Chen had probably volunteered since you were considered dangerous.

“Happy to help, Y/N.” Chen smiled sympathetically. “I’m so relieved to see you awake, I can’t begin to tell you how much. And not just because Kung Lao has been here about a hundred times. He keeps asking to come in. How you’re doing. If he could take over for me for a while. I told him that I’d let him know when you were awake and he doesn’t listen.” Chen clicked her tongue in amusement. You rolled your eyes so hard that Chen snorted. Sweet but typical of him. “Liu came by exactly once and I told him the same thing. He took my word for it. So, par for the course with those two.”

“Sounds about right.” You leaned your head back against the wall again and closed your eyes. God, this was a mess. A cardiac thing? God-curse? There was a mark on your body that mimicked the crack in a cursed object. You’d been nearly choked to death by some gross pale demon-man and you’d maimed Liu Kang. Again.

Where was the line?

Would there ever be an end to this?

Guilt.

You were so tired of guilt.

And pain.

You would gladly take the pain for the rest of your life if it meant keeping the people that you cared about safe from whatever this was. You held your head in your hands and massaged your temples.

“Don’t get in a funk about this, Y/N. You’re going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah.” You didn’t argue with Chen, but you wondered if this ended in your inevitable death. It didn’t feel like things were getting better. They had escalated violently in the last few days. No matter what control you’d had over your arcana, when you lost control? You lost it to a point where it was dangerous to be around you. Was it fair for you to still be there?

You were putting them all in danger.

Was it fair to consider Liu Kang or Kung Lao’s advances when you were such a danger to them? When it suddenly felt unlikely that you would survive this?

It felt particularly cruel to connect with Kung Lao again after years of having thought he was dead. To have him back only for things to wind up like this. And for Liu Kang, a man you had an insane draw to, unlike any you had ever felt. You’d hurt him now so many times. You knew he was strong but how long until you accidentally hurt him beyond repair? Chen took some vials of blood and you felt almost instantly nauseated at the sight of it. You fanned your face and were grateful to find that your body was adjusting to being used again. Chen helped you stretch and stand and get used to your body again before helping you back down and removing the IV.

“Do you know what will make you feel better?”

“Sleep?”

“I mean, yes, but also… getting you crazy drunk and then having one of those boys come over here to take care of you.” Chen made air quotes and you whined in response. You’d almost forgotten that Chen’s brain lived only in the gutter. “You just have to pick your poison. Kung Lao or Liu Kang.”

“I know that you’re joking but I still feel compelled to tell you that’s a bad idea right now.” If you drank right now, then you would wind up a sobbing disaster of a human being wallowing in self-pity. You didn’t need that right now and neither did either of them.

No matter how you tried to push it away, you couldn’t get it out of your head that this was how you died.

It felt very unfair.

“I need to see you smile, Y/N.” Chen’s voice was dripping with concern. She clasped her hand over yours. “Please?”

“I can’t pretend to do that right now, Chen. I’m still processing that three days have gone by. I’m still processing what happened in there and what any of it could mean. This was supposed to give me answers and all I have are more questions and every fuck up is more violent than the last.”

“We’ll get your answers, Y/N. It’ll be okay. Raiden is going to find a way.”

“Yeah.” You didn’t necessarily agree. Raiden was a God. You were sure that if he knew your existence was putting them all in danger then he would do what was necessary to stop that from happening. Not that you thought that he wanted that for you. He would try to help but there was only so much anyone could do. You assumed he saw a picture bigger than just your life.

“Y/N…” Chen looked to you seriously. “I don’t like this.”

“Wow, really? Because I am having a great time.”

“What an unhealthy coping mechanism.”

“Don’t judge me. It’s working.”

“Is it though?” Chen smiled sadly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I need to get out of bed and get used to my body again.”

“You should rest a bit longer.”

“I’ve been doing nothing but resting for three days, Chen.” You wanted to do something, anything to feel in control of your body. Chen studied you nervously but then offered you a nod. Together you worked your body just enough to help you get used to being awake and moving around. There was so little that you could control that it felt good to have something small. Chen was willing to help you even if she had tried to get you to slow down. You refused and pushed through it. You knew your limits.

You wanted to feel like yourself and break the fog hanging over you.

After some time, Chen forced you to stop and you rested your hand over your sore shoulder. You could feel your heart beating beneath it. Everything hurt but it only made you want to fight harder to get past whatever this was. You wouldn’t let it win. You wouldn’t let that thing win. It had frightened you for a few minutes and, truthfully, it still scared the hell out of you, but the fear no longer crippled you. You were determined to beat it.

You were not going to die because of this.

“What’s this?” Chen pointed to the wilting flower on the desk next to your journal. You thought that you were much like that flower now. An unfortunate parallel, you thought. Chen was cleaning up some of her medical things and putting them into a small bag after rolling up her bed.

“Just a sweet trinket.” You smiled fondly at the flower. It was pretty, even wilting.

“Liu Kang? Seems like something he would do. Finding beauty in things that are even temporary or some nonsense.”

“It does sound like him but it was actually Kung Lao.”

“Is that so?” Chen pulled out the desk chair and sat. “Can’t say that I can picture him giving anyone a flower. And no offense, but I don’t picture you as much of a flower getting kind of girl, either.”

“And exactly what kind of girl do you think I am, then?” You laughed in surprise. Chen perked up when she heard you laugh.

“You seem more like a grand-gesture kind of girl. Not really a material things girl.”

“Nice save, Chen.”

“We’re off topic. The flower. Focus, Y/N.”

“Oh, right.” You picked up the flower, twisting the stem carefully between your thumb and forefinger. It was still hanging on. There was some life left in it. Not much though. “It’s just something from when we were kids. It was the last time I’d seen him. He gave it to me before we said goodbye and then… he died. Well, at least I thought he had died. Still wrapping my brain around that one.” You set the delicate thing on the desk again.

“Yeah, that’s a big thing.”

“Off topic again though. When he returned from his errand for Raiden, he had found me another. I need to press it between the pages of the journal or something.”

“…you are talking about Kung Lao, right?” Chen seemed skeptical.

“Yes.”

“That’s ridiculously sweet. I’m having a hard time associating it with him.” Chen looked to the flower suspiciously as if she thought you were making up stories to tease her.

“Well, presumably the original flower was burned up in the fire so… it was nice of him to get me another. Not that he would have known I kept it. I guess it had been as important to him as it was to me.”

“You still had the original one?”

“Yeah. I had pressed it between the pages of my favorite book and got special paper to protect it. I hadn’t opened it in years but I assume it’s been burned to a crisp.” You felt the weight of your truth settling on your shoulders. Your life was gone. This wasn’t some crazy vivid dream that you’d eventually recover from. That life was over. There were moments where you missed the monotony but you were also grateful that it had happened to you and not to someone else. You had never fit in back home. Everyone else had belonged there. This was a better place for you.

“And you’re sure that this was Kung Lao, right?”

“I’m positive.” You laughed. Kung Lao definitely didn’t come off as sweet to most people, you realized. It was kind of adorable that it was just for you.

“You were really hung up on him, huh?”

“That’s a different life now, Chen. I thought he was dead. I cherished the little time we had.” Your ran your fingers through your messy hair. It was getting too long.

“Have you thought about going back? To see what happened?”

“I have,” you answered honestly. “But it’s a bad idea, I think. I killed people that night, Chen. And then there was the fire. They probably think that I’m dead. It’s not wrong to assume that either. Part of me died that day. I’m different. I can’t go back to being that woman and I can’t risk being seen.” You had put distance between the woman you had been and the woman you had become. You’d had to. It had been the only way to cope. “I’ve been nervous to talk about it. I can’t explain why.”

“You should probably ask Kung Lao to explain what happened.”

“Yeah, he just loves having a serious conversation. But you’re right. I’m ready to find out, I think.” Of all the crazy things that had happened in your life that one didn’t seem so crazy anymore. After what had happened in Raiden’s chamber, after maiming Liu, after having a heart thing, you could handle what had happened in your hometown.

“I didn’t quite understand the hang up that you had with Kung Lao. He’s such a… difficult man to get along with when you do what I do. But I suppose that I can see it now, knowing a bit more about the history between you two.” Chen admired the flower. “That’s a deep connection. He’s sweet to you… which I find difficult to believe so you must be special to him. Where with Liu…”

“Chen…” You turned your gaze. “Can we not talk about this right now? I know that you’re trying to make me laugh but I’m… I’m scared and my brain is having a hard time with all of this. Tomorrow, I promise, that all bets are off. You can tease me as much as you want but for right now, I need a break.”

“I get it.” Chen smiled and then got up, sat next to you on the bed, and wrapped her arms around you in a comforting hug. “I really do, Y/N.” She held you for a moment before you finally returned the hug. It felt strange to be hugged but nice. No romantic conflict involved. No stress about what it might mean. Just a hug. Comfort. You sniffled, not realizing that your eyes were misty with tears until then.

After Chen pulled back, you wiped your eyes and cleared your throat.

“This is only because you’re in such a state, Y/N. Trust me. Tomorrow? I’m back to pestering you.” Chen scolded and you smiled. “Besides, I wanted to bring up something more serious before I left anyway.”

“Oh, good. Serious with you never ends well for me.”

“It’s not anything medical. I gave you all the news there was to give for that. But with… everything that’s happened? People are starting to talk about it. I mean, they already were to an extent but more about how… scary it is.” Chen avoided your eyes and you felt a familiar and unpleasant frustration in the pit of your stomach. Gossip. “I just wanted to brace you for it. You might get some looks while you’re out and about. Raiden wouldn’t let me keep you in the infirmary just in case something happened. I’ve never seen him so worried, Y/N. It scared us a little.”

You figured Raiden was worried that you’d hurt someone and there was the confirmation. You had hurt someone. You’d hurt Liu. Three times now. You nodded in understanding. People usually feared what they didn’t understand. You were afraid of it too but you couldn’t exactly hide from what was happening. “I can’t blame him for being concerned. I hurt Liu.”

“Oh, no, Y/N.” Chen seemed surprised by your assumption. “He was worried for you, Y/N. I’m sure that our safety was part of his concern but he thought that a familiar and comforting space might help you. I think he’s worried that the heart thing was his fault.” Chen wiggled her fingers and made a sound to imitate the crack of lightning. You hadn’t considered that. You also hadn’t taken Raiden for the sentimental type. He’d come across as a fatherly man, you supposed, but your father hadn’t been sentimental so your idea of that was skewed. “I just wanted to warn you about the gossip and reassure you that it comes from a place of concern. We really like you, Y/N. You make time for us when many wouldn’t. They’re scared for you but also for themselves.”

“I get that.” You weren’t sure what to say about it. This was all too familiar. You felt so guilty that you weren’t sure how you were going to overcome it. The gossip wouldn’t help, you were sure. Your shoulder ached at the memory. It wasn’t as bad as it had been initially. Chen had briefly showed it to you while changing your bandages. It was literally a crack. “Thanks for the heads up, Chen. You’re always looking out for me.”

“I’m happy to.” Chen sounded nervous and you felt the woman’s gaze flitter from you to the door. “I’m afraid to leave you alone like this. I don’t… I feel like you’re not okay, Y/N.”

“I’m okay, Chen. I promise.” You reassured her. You knew you sounded morose. “I know I don’t sound it, but I’m okay. I’m so grateful that you were here when I woke up. You’re wonderful, even if I give you a hard time about teasing me.”

Chen smiled and offered you another quick hug. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N. You’re going to be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“We will. I’m going to be fine.” You did your best to sound sincere. You knew that you tended to come off as sarcastic and while you weren’t feeling your best right now, you had to believe that you would be okay. Belief was an incredibly powerful thing, more so than you had ever realized before coming to Raiden’s Temple. “You can go. I promise that I’m okay.”

“I’m trusting you, Y/N. Try and take it slow today. I’ll be in and out to check in on you. I expect you to rest for a few days before going back to the crazy nonsense you’ve been up to.”

“I’ll do my best but I’m not good at sitting and doing nothing. I’m probably going to stretch a bit more before I rest for the night. Maybe take a walk. I promise that I won’t overdo it.” You bowed your head in respectful gratitude. Chen gave you one more hug before leaving you alone. After she left, you meditated and exercised. You needed to be okay.

You would keep fighting until you had nothing left.

[milkybonezz]

I

YOU DO SHIPS???? Please omllll

Appearance wise I’m on the shorter side with red brown hair in a mullet, I’m Irish and british but I have much more of a British accent. I’ve got a grunge and punk style, and big sorta doe eyes.

I’d like to say I’m pretty nice, but I am pretty emotional. That goes for if I’m down bad for someone too, shit gets fLUSTERED. I have sort of a temper, but it usually gets all bark and no bite. I value humour quite a lot, even if it gets kinda fucked up lol. I’m a MASSIVE sucker for physical affection, or any affection really, shit gets me weak in the k n e e s

Im majorly into horror, basically like anything supernatural both freaks me out and is the most interesting thing. Music is really important to me, rock, grunge and punk overall. I’m obsessed with Nirvana and the cramps, and I usually spend everything with music. I love exploring old abandoned places, which sometimes comes with stuff like bonfires or trespassing jendjdjdjd

HERE WE GO MF

this has been stewing in my head for days but it is finally time

I ship you with: Patrick

Patrick is a strange cookie to say the least but I feel like the pair of you are on pretty similar wavelengths. He's naturally a lot more fucked up than you are but Pat is into all the same stuff; especially on the horror side of the spectrum, the main difference is he's a serial animal killer and is known for being a horror in and of himself.

The headcannons below are a little spicy so read with caution!!!!!!

Headcannons:

Teases you so much its infuriating, does anything to rile you up and see your temper shine through. For your accent, your style (even though he actually thinks its dope) and anything else you show

Always down to clown. And by always I mean ALWAYS. It can get a little tiring as this man has no post nut clarity and has the libido of a fucking rabbit. He. Just. Keeps. Going.

Pat shows you his fridge, its his most prized obsession so of course he's gonna show you it with a grim sense of accomplishment very evident in his face

Trespassing is fine by him, and so are the bonfires that go with it. Out little arsonist loves sneaking round abandoned places on the bad side of Derry. Just... Makes sure he walks in front of you, he gets handsy.

Keeps you with him at all times. Hes a little controlling but its only because he has no object permanence.

Loves your dark sense of humor even if he doesn't always show it. Only tends to laugh at the most fucked up of your jokes, the ones that make others around you cringe.

Thinks its funny to mix yours and Henry's names up because the both of you have mullets. Henry finds this very offensive.

He will do it when y'all are getting nasty, he finds it so funny

Not a big fan of affection unless he wants something from you but there are rare occasions when he seeks it out willingly

Pat hates seeing you cry; he finds your sensitivity so annoying but keeps his mouth shut about it as best he can. Has blown up and been a dick about it in the past.

Rodrick Patrick is the definition of male manipulator, like if he sees you wearing a band shirt he will absolutely ask you to name 3 songs

Hope you don't want kids because he absolutely CANNOT be anywhere near them, not after Avery.

[dalekofchaos]

Why Voldemort is a terrible villain and how I’d improve Voldemort as a villain

As much as I like Voldemort, when you look back on the books. Voldemort is a terrible villain. Yes he has the Horcruxes and has loyal followers...but that’s it. In this post I will be examining why Voldemort is a terrible villain in Harry Potter and how I would improve Voldemort as a villain.

Let’s look at Voldemort’s track record

No clear motivations. The movies do absolutely nothing to flesh out Voldemort, but that's understandable, they're the movies. But even in the books, there is no clear reason for Voldemort doing any of the things that he does. During the flashbacks in the Pensive, Tom is a disturbed child who has a tendency to torture animals, lure other children to creepy caves and steal stuff - all of this is bad, yes, but why? Why is Tom Riddle "evil"? I know the explanation that the canon somewhat provides: that Voldemort doesn't know love/friendship/connection because he was conceived under the trickery of a love potion, and his mother was abused But, even if you accept that explanation, that does not justify Tom Riddle being innately evil and monstrous. Why is he racist/supremacist? If he really is a natural genius with a detachment from human emotion, shouldn't he also be detached from things like blood supremacy, ancestry and mortality? Just because he's a sociopath doesn't mean he will automatically turn into Hitler.

Wages a Wizarding war, but couldn’t even conquer his own Wizarding Nation

He couldn’t become Minister Of Magic. Instead he dicked around in Borgins And Burkes and instead wanted to become Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor.....for reasons. He could’ve used his power as Minister Of Magic to gain followers, especially the fanatic pure blood families and the impressionable Slytherins and cover for his Horcrux murders. But nooo.

When Voldemort DOES take power by force during the second Wizarding War, he does barely anything with it. Voldemort owns the government and has an army of evil. Where does he plan to launch his attack on the world? At a god damn highschool. Yes I know he attacked Hogwarts because of the last Horcrux. Didn't need to get that far if he didn't act like the world's worst Bond villain and monologued for enough time to let Harry either escape or for the Deus ex machina to arrive on que. The first two times it happens, yeah I get it. You're a villain who is up himself, shit happens. But by book 5 when he is still doing dumb shit it's unforgivable. How hard is it to issue a kill on sight order to your hordes of evil? I mean FFS you have legit werewolves on your side, who can sniff out a drop of blood miles away and yet you do nothing with them? Not only do you fail to kill a defenseless baby but you can't evil kill the kid when he's locked up in your second in commands basement.

He isn't particularly charismatic or a decent leader. He does have tons of followers, for reasons. Seriously, except for fear and opportunism I can't understand why anybody would want to fight for him. I mean, I get that he is basically magic!Hitler, but actual Hitler could at least hold speeches. Actual Hitler had arguments why his rule would be good for the German people. Voldemort doesn't. Voldemort treats his followers like shit and tortures or kills them if they aren't useful any more.

He didn't do his homework and doesn't knows the magic lore good enough. He manages to kill himself two times because of lore he really should have known about. The first time he fails to see the magic love-charm, the second time he doesn't recognizes the arcane rules of wand ownership. Those are stupid, avoidable mistakes for somebody that is supposed to be the greatest dark mage of his time.

He isn't even a particularly good mage. He manages to get statemaled by Harry and defeated by Dumbledore. He never does anything truly remarkable with magic that we haven't seen other characters do the same or better (the cave in book six is pretty good, but that's already has best showing). All we see is “AVADA KEDAVA.” Cool, I’ve seen every damn villain use that stupid fucking spell and yes it is a terrible spell.

His plans are... well, they are shit. If your plans get permanently foiled by a bunch of meddeling kids, you should think about retirement, not world domination. The plan in "Goblet of fire" only works out because of dumb luck. "Orden of phoenix" works out because of Harrys incompetence. The plan to kill Dumbledore only worked cause Voldemort used logic and had one of his followers do the work for him. The rest of his plans fail gloriously.

Voldemort's goals. He... wants to be immortal, but why? Because he's afraid of death? Why is he afraid of death? He literally spent his childhood cutting open rabbits. He excelled in all fields of academia and is arguably very intelligent; intelligence tends to negate superstition. Okay, fine; let's assume he's afraid of death. But even if we look for another explanation: maybe he wants to live forever in order to stay in power.

Voldemort wants power...Why does he want power? Why does he want to, quite literally, take over the world? It makes no sense. He has no reason to care about any of that. Even if he's prejudiced against Muggles, what exactly gives him the willpower to actually gather followers, build a legion of darkdoom evil squad and kill everyone? His motivations are never explained, and he is introduced to the story as a 2-dimensional "bad guy". Even from the 4th book onward, Voldemort is never actually fleshed out. He simply goes from bad guy to "extremely bad guy/"super fucking evil". It's shallow. It's a bad character. He isn't even a character. He has no depth, nuance, relatability or layers to him. He's just a textbook douchebag who exists simply to give the protagonists something to do, because otherwise the stories would just be about magic school.

Let's look at the closest and most obvious reflection: Adolf Hitler. It's painfully obvious that Voldemort's movement is based on Nazism. But if you read Mein Kampf, Hitler actually believed what he was doing was justified, and provided reasons for it which he thought made sense. Even if it was objectively flawed, he believed it. That's what makes a good character in fiction; even if they're actually batshit fucking insane and critically evil, you can make them relatable if you go inside their head and show the audience why they're doing what they're doing. Even if the audience doesn't agree with the character, the audience understands why the character thinks this way. Unlike Hitler's diary, Voldemort has no level of self-introspection, no actual justifications. He's a walking plot device, and that's ridiculously bad for a 7-book-long story where he's the main antagonist. I don't remember a single interaction, scene or exchange where Voldemort is shown to have any degree of self-awareness. The youngest we ever see him is when Dumbledore visits him in the orphanage, and by that point he's already evil as balls, for seemingly no reason. Even when Harry is talking to him in their final fight, Voldemort only hisses and spits out superficial threats and a shallow understanding of the events around him, and actually has no idea who he is, or why he's doing what he does. . If he were a realistic character, this lack of self-awareness would build up over time, would create self-doubt in him, and he would go through a character arc where he "found himself" and learned what he really wanted. And then, maybe he comes back and does some crazy shit, but this time he does them with glorious conviction, and has no shame in admitting it. The audience knows him now, and he's a great villain. But that's not what we got. Remember the 13-odd years Voldemort spent floating around like a puff of gas, possessing rats and squatting in Quirrel's turban? Why did his character not develop? HE HAD THIRTEEN FUCKING YEARS TO REFLECT ON HIMSELF. He literally had nothing else to do. He could've become such a complex character. Think about it: a bland, textbook villain gets cucked into infinity and now can't actually do anything but bide his time. It would clearly affect his personality, especially if it lasts 13 goddamn years. But when Voldemort is revived in book 4, he's still just "look how evil I am.exe". He had literally no character arc of any kind. That's actually impossible. No sentient human being can have the same personality, goals and motivations after over a decade of exile. He's a badly-written villain, plain and simple.

It seems like a very poor decision to make the antagonist of 7 thick books this unrelatable and bland. It also makes no sense because Rowling has written consistently excellent characters throughout the series. Why not make Voldemort a real character?

So here is how I would improve Voldemort as a villain

Motivation. So since it's universally accepted that Salazar was against Muggleorns because he grew up in a time where Wizards and Witches were being burned at the stake. What if Voldemort had similar intentions cause he grew up in a time during WWII and the Cold War and saw how powerful and dangerous the Muggles were becoming with their nuclear weapons and wanted to protect magic kind from the Muggles and viewed the Muggles invading a possibility. So he became Lord Voldemort and formed the Death Eaters to finish Salazar Slytherin’s work to protect magic kind against Muggles and Muggleborns. It could’ve started out as noble, but turned racist and evil in the end.  

As Tom Riddle, he becomes the Minister Of Magic or given a position of power secondary to the Minister Of Magic. The Lord Of Magic. It’s important that prior to becoming Lord Voldemort, he should hold a position of political power within the Ministry Of Magic. In Hogwarts, it is said as a student Tom was charismatic, charming and a wolf in sheep’s clothing. So why not use all that for politics? He could use his charm and political power to turn the Ministry Of Magic against the Muggleborns and against the Muggles. He would write a book explaining in detail why he believes in what he believes and that gives him the following he needs. The Book in question would be called “Magic Is Might!” The old Pure Blood magical families and impressionable young Slytherins would follow him like moths to a flame.  He could use his newfound political power to research all forms of magic and even the dark arts. He could make Horcruxes in secret. As Voldemort he would gather allies who were rejected by society like Werewolves and Giants. But despite what the Horcruxes do to his face, he could use magic to keep up appearances. He wouldn’t just be seeking to wage war with the muggles and muggleborns. First Voldemort has to take over the Wizarding world. 

Treats his followers like allies. Voldemort does not use fear and the threat of death and torture on his most trusted allies. Tom Riddle’s the Knights of Walpurgis hold key positions in Tom Riddle’s administration and then the Death Eaters are born and Voldemort treats them with respect and admiration. In a sense, he treats the Death Eaters like family.

The First WIzarding War should have been about Voldemort waging war on the other Wizarding nations. This would truly show how terrifying and powerful Voldemort really is. Would also explain why the other nations did not interfere in the second war, cause they were that terrified of Voldemort. The Order Of Phoenix was barely able to win and drive Voldemort from power. 

Voldemort’s fall was because he was desperate. He was ousted from power and Dumbledore, the OOTP and Aurors are on his trail. His body is failing him, so he desperately needs to create a new Horcrux. So he kills The Potters. He fully knew that Lily used the love charm to shield Harry from him. So He saw a way out. Voldemort purposefully destroyed himself so he could gain a new Horcrux. 

Plus, we can have Voldemort hide the Horcruxes in the nations he conquered. So Voldemort can hide them in -Russia -Germany -America -Hogwarts -France Obviously Nagini would be by his side at all times and well Harry is the last one. For context of how Voldemort conquered these nations. Imperio, subterfuge, and mass hysteria. He took out the Wizarding governments and implanted them with his thrawls.

Make Voldemort as hated as Umbridge. Here’s how.

In my hypothetical scenario where Voldemort hides the Horcruxes in different Wizarding Nations, make 8 books. Book 7 ends with everyone graduating from Hogwarts and the fall of the Ministry. 

This way, after graduation, the Ministry has fallen and it ends with the Big Seven on the run. In Book 8 they are all on the hunt for the Horcruxes. Not just for Horcruxes, but international allies to unite the Wizarding world against Voldemort. It ends with the final confrontation being at the Ministry. Voldemort's endgame plan is not just to wipe out the Muggleborns, but wiping out the Muggles. He has the Magic equivalent to a Nuclear bomb. Voldemort wants to destroy the Muggles and recreate the world in his image. Magic Is Might! He plans on using it and Harry has to stop him before it's too late

Voldemort fails because the Horcruxes are failing him. It isn’t immortality, it is only temporarily longevity and every time one of his Horcruxes gets destroyed, his body breaks down and his soul is in an even worse shape.  When Nagini is destroyed, it is over. Voldemort thinks if he can kill Harry, he will live forever as the prophecy states “only one can live forever.” so he believes if he could just kill Harry, he can win. But Harry deflects his curses and sends it right back at him. Voldemort dies as he did in the book. Powerless, alone and human.

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Gender

Lower engagement, but higher personal satisfaction... let’s go for that.

How I define my gender.

I’ve never really been 100% committed to being a woman.

https://www.quora.com/How-do-I-know-I-am-cisgender-Ive-heard-some-cis-people-do-question-their-gender-and-Im-trying-to-tell-whether-Im-trans-or-one-of-these-cases Taking the questions from here... it would split this way: Gender dysphoria- when I was younger, a little. Gender Euphoria- never. Gender Politics (beyond basic empathy for others)- Oh fuck no. I don’t get why so many, particularly cis men are hung up on men must wear pants and not pink. I *do* look for women in history, but it’s more like a solidarity and hating erasure of marginalized groups and celebrating those marginalized groups. So political one way, but not particularly on the philosophical performance part. I also tend to spend a lot of time on things I don’t understand.

“Do you feel equally comfortable in men and women’s fashion, only noticing the practical differences?” Pretty much. If you give me a man’s suit I’d wear it. I had no issues with playing as a man for a skit.

 Are you basically ambivalent about makeup? 50/50. Sometimes I do care and do it for “funsies” but most of the time I don’t care because I don’t like “woman as object and consumerism.”

“Do you ‘play along’ when someone tells you what your assignment should be doing, but also don’t really care?”

Pretty much true. Like I was told girls aren’t supposed to like dirt. Screw that. girls aren’t supposed to like sports. I was like screw that. Girls aren’t supposed to like bugs. So what?

I did tend to read more women-led fiction over men’s fiction, but that’s mostly because men’s fiction has “gems” that sexualize women in ways that made me squirm. Cis het men’s writing about women usually piss me off, so I usually don’t try. And I’m all about the fairness. (But also note I’m gray-aro and read a crapton of romance, so who knows how that all works. I’m also gray-a and read a crapton of romance, though not sex repulsed (more like somewhere between sex neutral and receptive? I rated myself a 6-7... on a 0-9 scale.)) Gender tests I’ve taken: 50/50. Usually get something like demi-boy or demi girl. Though I don’t really have that much dysphoria. I do occasionally feel pissed off about my sex presentation, but that’s not really dysphoria as in I hate my body parts actively. It’s more like, why do I have to bother with it? It’s so much work to have to worry in the first place.

When you look in the mirror, do you feel like there’s nothing that really needs to be changed?

This one is more like why do I have to care so much? I feel gender fucked. Like why do I have to go through the steps?

Are you happy with your hair, your chest, the shape of your face?

50/50 on this one.

Aside from maybe wanting to bulk up, wash your hair, or lose a few pounds, are you generally pleased with your appearance?

I give no shits?

Do you appreciate your genitals?

75%/25% appreciation/hate. Sometimes I hate they exist.

Do you like the idea of using them in sex or to make a baby?

This is more like my ace side, I think, but meh? Take it or leave it.

Do they make you feel connected to other people with the same genitals socially, such as complaining about periods, or talking about dick length?

Not really. I’m more like why do you care so fucking much? But I’m not sure how much this is an ace thing.

Do you feel like even if you don’t use them, it’s comfortable just having them around?

Sometimes, not always. Might also be an ace thing.

If you were in a social group of only your assigned gender, would you be happy with it?

Not always. I don’t evaluate that way. Trans people are cool. I pick usually by belief systems and who the person is, morally.

Would it be fairly easy to communicate and find things in common?

I feel ambivalent sometimes towards other women, especially when they go off on tangents about mall shopping, clothes, etc. I feel the same about men talking about watching sports and warfare.

Would you feel harmonious and homogeneous with the group, if the individuals had personalities you liked?

Meh? I also listen to people I don’t like.

If you took away all the physical features that made up your assignment, what gender are you now? Where does that feeling come from?

I’m still me. I don’t care.

If you got to choose your gender upon reincarnation, what would you pick?

Flip a coin. Roll a dice. I don’t give a fuck.

If a wizard changed your sex permanently, would you be pissed or excited?

Meh. Don’t care.

What gender characters do you generally play in RPGs, and what options do you wish were more frequently available?

I’ve generally played women, given no other options besides binary, but also moonlighted as men, but then felt sick because male privilege.

“Do I FEEL like my assigned gender?”*

Shrugs. Not that committed. If you got an all-expenses paid trip to womanhood spa central, and became a socially idealized version of yourself, THEN would you feel like a woman? 

No. I oscillate between liking make up for the pure knowledge of it, and not giving a fuck. I’ve never understood the hours of make up, hair performance, etc.

As a child, I was the type that wanted to be good at *everything* and was upset that my Dad wouldn’t give me the time of day for “masculine” things. I was *also* good at figuring things out. I *also* wanted to be good at sports. I *also* like girly things occasionally. I wanted it all and didn’t see why my brother or me got compliments for different things and felt deep insult when I couldn’t do that too and also get compliments for it. (If you’re imagining an annoying precocious child--that’s about right) I don’t see the point of the gender construct when it re-enforces ideas of genders can do only certain things, when it’s never been proven true. So why are people so effing committed to performing it? I wear hanbok. I’ll wear a male one. I’ll make an androgynous one. I wear those without issue. I’ll cross dress if I like, because I don’t really see the point and European and European-derived defined genders as fucked in the first place. What is this men==violence and horses thing? What is this women==weakness and capitalism thing? I don’t get it. And why do I have to wear European-derived clothes in the first place? Plus from my academic study of gender and gender history, that just cemented for me how fucked up the White European and White European diaspora is about gender in the first place and I feel even less committed to it. I do perform usually more like a woman than a man, but it’s more like whatever is convenient, rather than an absolute commitment to the role. ‘cause you know, my gender is my least concern here, (probably along with ace aro) while not quite hating on it. I wear my hair long, because money and I don’t feel like cutting it very often and I like to be able to keep it out of my food, as well.

I don’t mind masculine pronouns in theory, because whatever floats your boat. But I do care if you think foreign name==men, because that’s giving into masculine hegemony and that is rude to other people unlike me who might be more committed to their genders, and that I definitely care about.

[redknight3996]

Random Thoughts on Jojo Part 5

Giorno Giovanna actually does have a character progression that I feel people overlook (and that I also overlooked until I thought of it just a few minutes ago). Namely, he learns to take action more directly, and the main evidence I have for this is how far more directly involved he gets in the murders he commits throughout the part.

That might be a weird metric to measure by, but hear me out.

So, first up, Leaky-Eyed Luca, first guy Giorno kinda kills, and it’s largely “unintentional”! (Air-quotes because let’s be honest, Giorno really didn’t care if this asshole killed himself by whacking the frog and that’s a really dumb sentence but we know what it means). Luca, because he’s an asshole, tries to intimidate a fifteen year old, threatens assault, and then whacks a frog on this kid’s chest because he’s a dick like that. This caves his own head in because Giorno’s powers are bullshit (and that’s actually a good thing for his character). So first killing by Giorno, and it’s really just at thing the dude did himself. Giorno’s not at fault, Luca did it to himself.

Versus Bruno, no murders, not an issue, made a friend. 

Now second is Polpo, because he’s also a prick and his stand murdered an old man. Now, Giorno does kinda kill Black Sabbath, but Black Sabbath is an automatic stand with rules so it’s really not a thing? What he actually does to kill Polpo though is through the indirect method of turning one of his guns into a banana. Polpo puts it in his mouth, it turns back, blows his brains out. Looks like a suicide, and is also totally indirect. Giorno is nowhere near the prison when it happens. It’s a deliberate killing, but there’s a lot of distance to it.

Third up, Illuso! Yes, this fight is more focused on Abbacchio and Fugo, but Giorno’s largely responsible for the kill by infecting Illuso with the Purple Haze virus and essentially pushing him into jumping off right into the line of fire with Purple Haze. Still indirect, and he didn’t even really commit the killing this time.

Fourth for death, we’ve got Melone. Also Baby Face Junior, who is kind of a person but mostly a stand. Giorno develops a lot in this fight because it gains him his ability to heal by facing someone who’s essentially an opposite of his powers (turning living things to objects versus bringing life to objects), and he uses some smart thinking to fuse Junior to his motorcycle and blow the little fucker up. And even then, Junior’s the one who pulled the motorcycle into himself. Giorno caused these sequences of events to happen during this fight, but he relies a lot on Junior being impulsive and basically causing his own destruction. And then he takes the very deliberate step to continue his typical modus operandi, and murders Melone indirectly through sending a venomous snake his way. This is still a murder Giorno commits, let’s not get that wrong; it’s just indirect. He has a distance to it, both physical and metaphorical.

Then five, Ghiaccio. This is a gruesome fight, especially for Mista, and it’s the first one where Giorno 100% murders a man directly. Certainly, he’s finishing off Ghiaccio; Mista was the main actor in this fight, and he takes a ton of hits trying to put ice man down, but it’s Giorno who commits a genuine, direct killing here by stamping Ghiaccio’s head down hard enough to shove the streetlamp’s jutting metal spike right through his throat. Giorno has committed a direct murder here, with his own stand’s feet, and it was against a man who nearly killed one of his friends and had powers that almost rendered the incredibly overpowered Giorno useless. He’s pushed to another breaking point, and he overcomes it. But his methods change. Ghiaccio is directly killed; Giorno doesn’t have distance to protect him anymore.

Directly after this, Giorno has some fights that really fuck him up. With Squalo and Tiziano, he spends most of the fight a hostage with Crush’s teeth literally around his throat. He helps Narancia win the day, but he’s not a main actor. Nor is he one in the Notorious BIG fight, because he loses his hands and is out of commission. In these two, he’s basically a support role at best, hostage in need of protection at worst, but he shows just how much pain he can endure and just how far he’s willing to go when it comes to winning these fights, even if it means permanently crippling himself.

And then we have Cioccolata. Sixth person Giorno kills, and damn if it isn’t direct. Cioccolata strikes an interesting place because he, more than any of the other fights, represents an antithesis to Giorno. Giorno has life-bringing light, Cioccolata has death-bringing mold; Giorno tends to use plants and animals, Cioccolata uses mold; Giorno is a small-time pickpocket and thief turned brutal mafia newcomer, Cioccolata is a doctor turned absolutely monstrous mafia torturer.  

Giorno’s main moral code has been to never involve innocents and try to keep the common people out of things. He’s selfish at times and can easily be harsh or callous, but he tries to be polite and nice to people as his go-to. He’s a student at a boarding academy of some description, but he mostly robs unsuspecting tourists because it’s easy money. Cioccolata masqueraded as a noble volunteer and valiant surgeon to hide his horrific sadistic tendencies, which he would act upon with anyone he could get his hands on, no matter their “innocence” or “guilt”. Enjoying himself at the expense of others was all he cared for, and he joined Passione not to reform it, but to carry out his sadistic fantasies with complete protection from retribution. Green Day even carries this further by being a stand of widespread and vicious murder, carried out against all those “lower” than Cioccolata. Anyone beneath him dies horribly, and it’s no wonder Giorno shows nothing more than pure contempt and cold hatred towards the vicious doctor.

So this is the one where Giorno outright beats a man to death. For 7 pages (7 shots/around 30 seconds in the anime), he takes out every bit of aggression he has on this absolute monster of a man. With Ghiaccio, Giorno kicks him into a spike; with Cioccolata, Giorno beats and breaks him, smashing his fists into the evil bastard until he’s a broken mess, undoubtedly a corpse even before he hits the garbage truck down below. Giorno directly murders a man with his own fists. Up against the man who brings death, the man who brings life does not end the battle with a beetle or a vine; he punches his opponent to a broken pulp. Giorno’s punched plenty of people, sure, but he never finishes someone off like that before then. And he wouldn’t afterwards.

Giorno doesn’t kill Diavolo. This is the end point of Giorno’s progression. Through the arrow, the Son of God becomes divine and strikes down the Devil that had tried so desperately to triumph over the fate in his path, and in doing so, does not kill the Devil, but instead condemns him to an endless, unceasing Hell (I feel like I could do a thing about trying to line up Part 5 characters to biblical figures but fuck me that would take a far better understanding of lore than I’ve got). Golden Experience Requiem forms because Giorno wants, more than anything, to make the man who caused so much pain and murdered so many of his friends to suffer the agony he had caused on a deep, personal scale. 

Giorno has gone from “accidents”, to indirect murder, to direct killing, and now to torture without cease. In reaching his peak of power and truly becoming unbelievably broken, he’s displayed that endless pain is far, far worse than death, and embraced that truth. He is directly displaying the truth of Fate, and his stand has transformed as such. Life and Fate intertwine, and blah blah, it’s genuinely cool symbolic stuff, but you get my point now, right?

Giorno has a genuine progression through how broken his powers are, and it’s through learning to not only use them in increasingly creative ways, but also to act and attack directly. In fact, maybe his power lost that initial aspect of it, that “counters all attacks to it” ability, because Giorno’s mentality changed? Maybe meeting Bruno didn’t just inspire the weary mafioso to change his ways, but made Giorno himself someone who takes action instead of letting the life he forms handle things for him. 

Who knows? I don’t. But I think it sounds neat.

[violetsmoak]

Appetence [7/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: N/A

First Chapter

Author’s Note(s): Apologies for the wait. As you may know I had an adventure with my dropbox wherein I backed up all my files because I had to restore my laptop, and all of the files ended up mixed up in the wrong folders and I've been tracking down files one by one for the past week. I hate technology. I mean, I guess I should be happy the files didn't get deleted, but it's still a pain in the ass to re-organize manually.

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

________________________________________________________________

Tim stares at the business card in his hand long after Jason disappears, thumbing over the false name and phone number with a reverence once reserved for clandestinely captured photographs.

Victor Shelley, Paranormal Investigator.

He wonders if Jason was trying to be funny choosing that name. Given what Tim’s heard about him in the few instances where Dick or Alfred talk about him, and what he saw for himself in the past, he thinks it’s entirely likely.

God, Dick and Alfred.

He knows they’re going to be just as blindsided about this as Bruce when they find out.

If they find out.

Guilt flickers through him now at the promise he made to Jason.

Why the hell would he promise a man he doesn’t really know—a man he’s spent a grand total of an hour and twenty-three minutes in conversation with—that he won’t let his adopted father knows he’s not dead.

That he hasn’t been dead for years.

That he’s in Gotham right now.

Tim wishes he could say it was one hundred percent his shock at Jason being alive, but that would be lying to himself. His mind flashes back to Jason’s face, his slow smirk and the smooth, deep voice, and he swears, letting his head fall against the counter.

Apparently, I promised him because he’s pretty.

It’s a new feeling for Tim. He’s never been easily swayed by looks, but something about Jason is attractive enough to put him off-guard, or at least loosen his lips more than normal.

I thought I was over this…

“I know that face.”

Tim startles and glances up at the bartender—Trista—who he had forgotten was there. He’d forgotten he was sitting in a bar, to be honest.

“Judging by the ass on that man, I can guess what it’s about,” she continues in a wry tone. Then she’s sliding a shot of amber liquid toward him. “Here. To steady your nerves.”

Tim stares at the alcohol in numb confusion.

“That’s on the house, but only because he talked more with you tonight than I’ve seen him do with anyone since he got here,” she goes on. “We’ll both pretend I don’t know you’re underage.”

Tim is too flustered by everything she’s just said to do anything other than accept the shot under her knowing gaze. Then, he beats a hasty retreat from the bar as fast as humanly possible without it looking like he’s running away.

Distracted, he returns to his apartment in the Theater District, trying to parse the events of the night from an objective viewpoint. He’s not entirely sure he didn’t dream it all up, considering whatever that incubus did to him, and so he runs tox-screens on his blood and gives himself a full physical just to make sure.

Other than spikes in several hormone levels—adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin—his results are normal. Nothing that would really alter his perceptions of reality, the way Scarecrow or Poison Ivy’s concoctions tend to do.

That confirmed, he should be able to leave the matter alone for now. There are more pressing matters to deal with—Dante’s continued disappearance being one of them.

But thoughts of Jason continue to assault Tim’s thoughts.

Something has been bothering him since his conversation with Jason, something he wondered before but couldn’t ask because Jason got skittish and made a run for it

How the hell did Constantine cross paths with Jason anyway?

Aside from his inexplicable presence in Gotham at some point in the past five years without attracting the attention of Batman, what would interest him in a teenaged John Doe with no identity or memory?

Sliding into the chair in front of the computer in the Nest, Tim calls up the autopsy report, even though he doesn’t really need to see it. He memorized it years ago. Still, if he’s going to investigate this, he needs concrete facts, not just his memory.

It’s not difficult to create a timeline of events, between Jason’s official death and now. Or to search a list of John Does at various hospitals in Gotham within the last five to ten years, whose condition upon admittance matches the description of Jason’s injuries at death.

He finds the information he’s looking for within twenty minutes.

As it turns out, things didn’t happen quite as neatly or quickly as Jason’s story suggested. His stay at Gotham General was a lot longer than he let on, and Tim’s stomach twists as he reads the medical reports.

Various physicians left their comments on the patient, a young man of about fifteen or sixteen, severely beaten and malnourished, picked up several miles from the hospital.

The file includes a mugshot of a heavily bandaged youth, head shaved from what records indicate were several procedures to repair brain bleeds, skull, and facial fractures. Bruises and swelling make his features almost unrecognizable, except to someone who has memorized pictures of that face since he was ten years old. Someone who knows the cut of that jaw and the color of those eyes, however bleary and vacant they are as they stare into the camera.

“God, Jason…”

Tim reads over the doctors’ notes that span the course of a year, cataloging how well the boy is healing considering the heavy damage he sustained, and how he would be considered a miracle patient but for the fact whatever happened to him caused significant brain damage.

Clear psychological damage, hearing voices, incapable of speech, easily upset.

On several occasions, the boy became unaccountably terrified, screaming and yelling and trying to claw out his own eyes. Sometimes it even became violent, and in his struggles, he put three doctors, a nurse and two orderlies in the emergency room.

I’m surprised it was only that many people. Considering his training, he could have done a lot more damage.

Eventually, he always had to be drugged and restrained.

Demonic possession, maybe?

It’s not the first thing Tim would think of, but if Constantine’s involved in all this, it would make sense. And coming back from the dead like Jason says he did, it had to have side effects.

Except, there’s no mention of anything superhuman or beyond the realm of possibility regarding Jason’s strength. Surely the doctors would have made note of anything beyond the abilities of a normal, scared teenager—especially in Gotham, where strange behavior was a sad norm.

No mention of anything resembling supernatural or metahuman abilities anywhere here.

Jason was eventually placed permanently in the psych ward and likely would have stayed there for the rest of his days, except the hospital’s budget was cut in his eighth month there. Space issues required moving patients to other hospitals, and—

“Oh, no. No-no-no, tell me they didn’t,” Tim murmurs, heart sinking as he scrolls down the page of the report, knowing exactly what he’s going to find.

They sent him to Arkham.

If Tim was horrified before by the notion of Jason’s resurrection and his condition afterward, it’s nothing to how sick he feels to learn that his predecessor was sent to the cesspool that is Arkham Asylum.

He needs to turn away from his computer for a few seconds and breathe, close his eyes and concentrate on not hearing the lilting, singsong voice and tinny voice in his head.

Hush, little baby, don’t say a word, Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

Ever since his kidnapping, it’s the one place in Gotham Tim won’t venture—he’s not sure what would happen if he did. Whether he’d suffer a crippling attack of flashbacks, or march into the high security ward and slit the Joker’s throat with one of his birdarangs.

If Bruce realized Tim honestly can’t decide which would be the worse outcome, he knows he’d be benched for the rest of his life. He might not be Robin anymore, but the Family would find a way.

It’s fear of that more than anything else that helps him get a handle on his panic, tethers him back to reality better than anything else. Tim takes another series of deep, grounding breaths, before he feels confident enough to be able to get back to his research into Jason.

At least they didn’t put him anywhere near the Joker, it seems, he notices as he goes through the room assignments and Arkham floorplans. That’s about the only good thing about it, though.

Jason’s ward was for the non-communitive patients, the ones the experts considered untreatable. The ones that get forgotten about in the mayhem of the monthly outbreaks and pandemonium.

Tim’s stomach clenches tight again as he remembers incidents and dates over the years where Batman visited inmates at Arkham to interrogate them on the latest escapes or crimes happening in the city, or just to test the security there. Based on the location of Jason’s cell and Batman’s usual route, there are times when the two were only a floor apart

Tim’s heart aches for them both.

They were so close to each other! If only they’d known—!

And just as suddenly as Jason was transferred to Arkham, all records of him vanish. There’s no information about patient transfers or deaths or releases; instead, like many a nameless patient to be lost to the asylum over the years, he just vanishes.

People don’t just vanish. And in this case, I know he didn’t.

Tim goes on to cross-reference the potential dates of Jason’s disappearance with any visitors to the asylum. It doesn’t take much to identify the only visitor to the asylum for a span of weeks as a certain Chandler Ravenscar—names which another quick search link to aliases used by John Constantine in the past.

That brings Tim to a whole other avenue of research, refocusing him investigation on Constantine himself and his movements over the past years. He tends to keep to the UK, but every now and again travels to various mystical hotspots around the world.

There’s a backlog of security footage to weed through, occultist forums discussing the man and his exploits. Half of what’s written about him online is clearly conspiracy theories, a quarter of it related to some punk rock band called Mucous Membrane and something to do with the Reagan assassination. Those who have actually worked with him either seem too terrified or pissed off to say much about him.

Even harder is finding a video of the man; cameras and other surveillance devices appear to stop working around him. It’s even more of a challenge to catch a glimpse of the teenaged assistant that starts being mentioned several months after Jason’s disappearance from Arkham.

A chance freeze-frame from an airport in Beijing, however, is all Tim needs to confirm it’s Jason.

It’s hours later when Tim sits back, exhausted but now having at least a general timeline of what happened.

One thing is for damn sure—I can’t take this to Bruce.

The story is too painful, too unbelievable. If it doesn’t break him all over, it will have him lashing out at Tim for making up stories about a touchy subject. There’s enough tension between them both right now that he’s likely to question anything suspect Tim brings to him.

Or he would insist it was a trick, that someone had faked all of this. He wouldn’t take Tim’s word for it, would investigate himself, prepare himself for an interrogation when what Jason needs is to have a face to face with his adopted father and mentor.

And Jason’s story still has too many holes in it for Tim to tell it, begging more questions than answers.

Like why Constantine took you from Arkham in the first place. And also…there’s one other thing that doesn’t make sense.

Well, a lot of things don’t make sense, but this stands out.

Tim goes back to the hospital records, scanning for the section where he remembers reading the information.

John Doe’s injuries in the medical files are all consistent with those in Jason’s autopsy, with every scar and broken bone accounted for and described.

Except for an autopsy scar.

That would have been the first thing medical professionals remarked upon when Jason was admitted, but it’s not mentioned anywhere. Which must mean that somehow, Jason no longer has it.

So why did that heal and nothing else did? Could it have something to do with what brought him back?

There’s a sudden dull, clunk in the background and the slide of elevator doors, and Tim glances up to watch Stephanie Brown stride into his base of operations.

“I was on the way out and Babs sent me to check on you,” she tells him. “Apparently someone missed work today without calling in and isn’t answering their phone.”

Tim startles at that, glances at the clock in the corner of his screen and swears when he realizes she’s right. He was supposed to be at Wayne Enterprises an hour ago. When he glances at his cellphone, he sees twelve text messages and three missed calls from Lucius, Dick and Bruce.

“I didn’t even notice,” he groans. He was so caught up in finding out more about Jason that he lost track of time. He quickly taps out a group message reassuring them he’s fine and will be in soon.

“At least being flaky is characteristic of billionaire teenagers,” Steph says as she wanders over.

Tim quickly minimizes his search and swivels around in his seat to face her. “Why are you even awake this early?”

Given the way she spends her nights, Steph made a point of having all of her classes in the afternoon. She’s possibly less of a morning person than Tim is, to the point where even coffee doesn’t make her a little more human.

“Blame my new roommate,” she grumbles, and that earns a surprised look because it’s the first time he’s heard of this. “Right, I didn’t tell you, did I? So, a couple of weeks ago this cat shows up on the fire-escape outside my window. And I didn’t mean to feed it, but it looked so sad and pathetic and I had to, so now it won’t leave me alone. What am I supposed to do? I don’t have time to be a pet owner.”

“Cat’s don’t actually take that much care.”

“That’s what they want you to think. And then one cat becomes two, and two becomes three and the next thing I know, I’m going to be the crazy cat lady on the block,” Steph complains. “And not to cool, sexy, Selina kind of cat lady but the sad, single shut-in.”

“You could never be a shut-in. No four walls can keep your raw joie de vivre inside,” Tim says in a flat tone.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.” She frowns in confusion. “Are we in an on-again or an off-again right now? I forget.”

Tim remembers Jason’s cocky grin and muscular thighs and his mouth goes dry. “Off. Definitely off.”

Steph’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “That was weirdly assertive. Am I sensing a pretty girl behind that sentiment? Do I need to give a shovel talk?” Something occurs to her and she scowls. “It’s not that Lynx chick, is it? Trust me when I say that would be a bad idea.”

“There’s no girl,” Tim mumbles. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” she allows, slow and still somewhat dubious. “But you’d tell me, right? If you were seeing someone? Only so I don’t go crossing lines or causing jealous rage or something.”

“There’s nothing going on, yes I would tell you, can we please move on?” Tim huffs. “Tell me about your cat.”

“He’s not my cat.”

“You fed him, he’s your cat.”

“Stop changing the subject. You’re being evasive—there so is a girl.”

“There’s no girl!” Tim groans, half tempted to tug at his hair. “Who could look at another woman after being with you?”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or as an insinuation I was so horrible that I turned you off women for good,” Steph says, eyes narrowed in suspicion. A beat later, she tilts her head to one side as if something has occurred to her. “Wait. That’s it, isn’t it? It’s a guy. This someone’s a guy. You know you can tell me, right? That would totally be okay—would actually explain a lot, actually—you know, you liking guys—”

“One guy does not equate guys.”

“Oh my god! There is! There’s a guy!” Steph squeals. “Who is it? It’s that friend of yours, that went missing, isn’t it? Dante something? That’s why you’ve been so obsessed with finding him!”

“I’m determined to find him because he’s my friend,” Tim counters, a bit irritated. “The same way I’d be determined to find Ives or Bernard or anyone I cared about. And I’d be doing that right now if someone wasn’t distracting me.”

Two someones, but she doesn’t need to know about Jason’s role in it.

“And I’d believe that if you weren’t looking at me like you wanted to jump out of your skin. There’s something going on here, Ex-Boy Wonder.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Lies!”

“For something to be going on, you have to actually spend more than an hour with someone. You have to have known them for more than an hour.”

“Not if you have chemistry,” Steph points out. “Sometimes, it’s just like. Bang.” She grins. “And then you have to bang.”

Tim rolls his eyes.

“Do I need to give you the safe sex talk?” Steph asks with concern that’s only half teasing. “The gay-sex safe sex talk? Because to be honest, I don’t think I’d be able to do it with a straight face.”

“Steph, that was awful. As a former Robin, you should be ashamed.”

“And as a former Robin, you should be better at lying. So, spill. What’s going on?”

Tim studies her, chewing on his tongue; he knows she won’t let it go unless he gives her something. “Okay. Fine.”

“Hah! I knew it!”

“Not that. This is…something else,” he says. “Sort of.”

“Okay?”

“What would you do if…say you found out something really important to a person you care about. But you promised someone else you wouldn’t tell anyone about that something because of…reasons. Personal reasons.”

Steph crosses her arms. “Is this about me?”

“Not everything is about you.”

“Then it’s about Mystery Boy.”

“It’s not about—” Tim gives up, and then sighs, because it’s just easier to give her that one. “Fine. It’s Mystery Boy. He asked me not to say something that’s really important. I figure it’s because he wants to say himself in his own time. Except. Except it’s a huge thing.”

“Starbucks discontinuing pumpkin spice lattes’ huge, or ‘Hush trying to destroy B’ huge?”

“Closer to the second. Not dangerous like that,” he adds quickly when he sees her face. “It’s just…serious stuff that could hurt if it’s not handled the right way. Or if certain parties found out later and thought they were having stuff kept from them.”

“Well, now I’m curious…”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I know that. I’m just saying.” Steph sticks out her tongue at him, but then becomes contemplative. “I guess I’d keep my mouth shut. Or try to, at least. Stuff like that always tends to come out eventually. But if you’re worried it could hurt someone, maybe you can convince Mystery Boy it’s in his best interest to tell someone.”

“Yeah, that didn’t go over too well.”   

“Well, whatever you do, don’t get into your micromanaging, control-freak headspace,” she tells him. “That’s one of the things that torpedoed you and me, and if you want things to work out with this guy, you should respect his wishes.”

“I never said anything about wanting anything to work out with anyone,” Tim protests. “I just met the guy.”

“And somehow he got you to promise not to tell something that’s apparently really important. Which means you already value him somehow, and that only happens to you when you really like someone. Also, you might be able to straight-up bluff Batman or Ra’s al Ghul, but I know how you look when you like someone and don’t want anyone to know it.” There’s a beeping noise and Steph digs out her cellphone. “And with those pearls of wisdom, I have to get going. My mom found the cat and she’s having a conniption.”

She turns to leave, pauses once she enters the elevator and turns back around, jabbing a finger at him.

“Shower, eat, go to work, stop obsessing about stuff you can’t control—and don’t try to control stuff that’s not your business.”

Tim bristles. “Yes, Mother.”

“Oh, you did not just go there,” she growls as the elevator doors close and Tim grins until she’s gone.

He knows that Steph’s right, to a certain extent. This whole Jason thing isn’t his business—he was only ever an outside observer, a legacy after the fact. And even if it was his business, it’s not his predecessor’s sensibilities he should be protecting.

Ill-advised crush aside, he doesn’t have any connection loyalty to Jason Todd. He does owe Bruce—he should be going straight to him about this.

Except…

Except, Tim really doesn’t want to be added to the list of people who betrayed Jason’s trust. Especially given how fragile it is given their short acquaintance.

Tim groans and leans back against his chair, wishing for an easy solution. He’s usually able to figure out what to do, even when it comes down to the hard choices.

“Stop obsessing about stuff you can’t control—and don’t try to control stuff that’s not your business.”

Steph’s right.

He’ll do as Jason asked.

Or, at least he’ll give it a week.

If he hasn't figured out any other way to deal with the situation, he'll go to Bruce.

In the meantime—he has an investigation to get back to.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

[jjkpls]

The Squib (Harry Potter!AU #1) (G)

> genre : pure fluff

> pairing : park jimin x reader

> words : 4.5k

> warning : none

> Park Jimin (Slytherin, 6th yr) is in love with you, the hufflepuff squib with whom he shares some classes. To help you out with your ineptness in anything magic related, he comes up with a plan that doesn’t go… well, as planned. At least, he gets you at the end. (fluff, shy ball of sunshine Jiminie)

/The Harry Potter!AU Masterlist/

The room is so quiet, it's deafening.

Most of them are trying to not be too obnoxious. Jimin doesn't think it is out of kindness. They probably feel like your position is lame enough and they don't want to lose houses' points just for kicking a prey already caught.

But as the quietness weighs heavy on the atmosphere, he can't help but wonder if that wouldn't be easier if they would make noises. As if on cue, he catches from the corner of his eyes two girls he knows by face snicker loudly. You are bend over on yourself. You can't even hold McGonagall's stare now, as you try desperately to shake your wand into turning a mechanic pen into a quill. He wishes he could help you but he is too far back and if he is being completely honest, he hasn't practised this spell since first year. He's not even sure he could get it right on the first try.

These girls couldn't either he thinks as he throws their way a dark stare. One of them catches it and rolls her eyes, annoyed, but she stops chattering with her friend at least.

“I'll see you after class, ___.”

McGonagall says, sternly, while redirecting her attention to the whole class. You are so slumped over now, Jimin can hardly see the top of your messy head. His heart stings a little. It is not the first time it's happened. And it is not the first time he has witnessed it. You are a squib. He is not exactly sure why or how you were accepted in Hogwarts but it occurred. And since your first year, you've been struggling like crazy for all classes that involved the least amount of magic input. Transfiguration is probably the worse. McGonagall would always pick you and never let you off of the hook until she's made sure to make you question all of your life's decisions, in particular, the one regarding your presence here. Of course, Jimin has to be with you for this class. He's not too sure why, but he hates seeing you in this situation. Weird for a Slytherin, some might think. But he can't help it.

After class, he waits for you in the hallway for half an hour though he has a class to attend to as Taehyung thought of importance to remind him.

“I have something to do.”

“You're waiting for the squib ?” Asks Yoongi, sounding even more bored than he looks. Jimin wants to punch him. He knows he can't do so, so he makes sure to write down in the back of his head to not forget to place some voodoo fountain under his bed later.

“___. Her name's ___. And yes, I am.”

Taehyung and Yoongi share a glare. Eyebrows raised in surrender, Yoongi turns on his heel and starts walking away. He's not even walking towards their next class.

“You're still not going to talk to her ?”

Jimin frowns. He doesn't know if he'll talk to you or not. You're not out yet. And why do they care so fucking much? If he just wants to see you come out and not say anything to you, that's none of their business.

“Taehyung, fuck off.” Jimin simply turns his back to him, childishly. He knows he is ridiculous he doesn't need other people telling him. Taehyung, though, as always, doesn't take it personally. He pats him gently on the back.

“See you later, buddy!” Jimin smiles to himself. He's lucky he has those friends when he's acting all insufferable like that. Most people would have been done with his antics a long time ago.

He’s started being that way two years ago when Slytherins and Hufflepuffs started sharing classes. To put it simply, this schedule arrangement signed the end of Jimin's sanity.

At first, he just noticed you, like everybody else, because you were unable to come up with any spell in class. He could feel for you, as anyone with a heart would. But progressively, this innocent sympathy of some sort turned into a crush. Well, he's not sure that's a crush but that's what his friends call it.

He wouldn't say that he wants to date you. He's never really thought of it. But he does care about you. He does feel bad whenever he spends a whole class with you and doesn't even catch a smile of yours. He does find it more interesting to stare at your face during lessons and tends to do it more than study these days. And yes, he does think about you quite a lot outside of class too. Still... Would he call it a crush?

“___.”

You look up, surprised, as you close the door behind you. Jimin is walking towards you with careful feline steps, looking all smiles and soft eyes. Seeing his kindness makes you want to cry again. But you worked so hard on stopping the sobbings ten minutes ago -as McGonagall was awkwardly patting your shoulder- you won't allow yourself to start again.

“Oh sorry. You needed to talk to professor Mc-”

“Ah no, no. I am just... waiting.”

“Waiting ?”

Jimin nods simply. He's looking everywhere, unable to settle his gaze anywhere, fidgeting awkwardly on his spot. You're not sure what is up with him but you're way too late for your next class -which you are also failing miserably to- to attempt to figure it out.

“Ok. Well, I have class. I'll see you later.”

You wave with a thin smile, it's the most you can give right now. Jimin just shakes his hand back and remains there, waiting.

Well, maybe he has a crush on you and that's why he turns into a freaking dumbass in front of you.

The next week, Jimin literally hops to his seat as soon as McGonagall opens the door. She sends him a squinted glare. She can't remember the last time a student walked in her class so excited.

“Can't you look more obvious ?” A drawling voice groans, while its owner lets himself slump on the chair next to Jimin. The latter throws daggers at him but Yoongi just sighs. “I'm just saying. It's going to be weird anyway so don't look so suspicious beforehand.”

He could reply something but he's not sure what. It's one of this moment when Jimin can't remember why the hell he is friend with that guy. They've been hanging out since the middle of first year. Yoongi has been kicked out from his room by his other roommates -for being an asshole, he suspects- and Jimin being Jimin, he had to invite him to finish his night in his room. The other kids were pissed but Jimin stood his ground. At the time, he didn't know Yoongi was, in fact, an asshole and just saw him as a poor underdog or something. The temporary fix happened to turn permanent. It was pretty simple, Kyungsoo -his ex-roommate- left his place to Yoongi and went to the other room. Jimin had to learn to appreciate Yoongi over the years. Even though, he's never made it an easy thing to do.

Slytherins and Hufflepuffs walk in in a loud buzz of chatters, slowly taking their seats. Jimin searches the crowd for your silhouette. Even hidden partly by the other students, it's not hard to find you. As always, you're walking with your back bent, head hung low. You're sweating anxiety and dread.

But this time, Jimin is not sharing your apprehension. He's planned it all right and he can't wait for McGonagall to start her weekly torture session with you. He doesn't have to wait for long as she turns to you within the first minutes of the class, with the same request she had last week.

“Go ahead.” McGonagall encourages, after having set a pen on your table.

Jimin can only see the back of your head but he can imagine you staring at the little object as if it were a monstrous device ready to jump at your face. Next to his own leg, there's Yoongi's one, shaking up and down in a nervous bounce he's never witnessed before. Even Yoongi is apprehending it? Jimin can now feel the weight on his shoulders. You wouldn't know about it but he does. He does and he puts so much pressure on himself. He'd feel like he had failed you if this doesn't go right and you have to go through the hardship you always encounter, once more. He's always terrified to walk in the Great Hall one morning to see your seat empty because you would have been tired of the whole shitty situation and given up your place.

Therefore, he gets on his forearms and pushes on them to elevate himself over the rows of students in front of him. His friend is there, staring at you. She's chewing nervously on her lower lip, and he notices her wand missing from the top of her table. Jimin can't see her hands and guesses they're hidden under the desk, ready to do what she promised him.

He beams to himself, and to her even though she can't see him. He is lucky indeed. He's surrounded by the greatest, most supportive and helpful people ever -except for Yoongi, maybe, but the fact that he is nervous about you succeeding today hints that he might not be that much of a dick.

There is that deafening silence again. Everybody waits for you to fail terribly like you systematically do. Some have already picked up a book or late homework to occupy themselves with, assuming it will take most of the lesson as it usually does.

McGonagall raises a hand in the air, shakes gently her wand to demonstrate to you the right way to do it -even though you saw it so many times, you can see that stupid hand gesture in your fucking nightly nightmares at this point. You stretch your arm above your desk, shaky fingers holding into your short crooked wand, and slowly, focusing all your will in it, you pronounce with the clearest voice possible the words. You haven't even finished saying the last word that the mechanic pen is trembling on your desk to then turn into a beautiful clear-white quill.

There is a loud, general gasp resonating in the room. Everybody, McGonagall included, has their mouths open wide, eyes ready to roll out of their sockets as they watch with pure astonishment the transfigured object laying on the wood table. The professor, unable to hide a proud smirk, claps her hands elegantly before leaving your side.

“Wow. That was really good.” Mumbles Yoongi, eyebrows raised. It's the most emotions Jimin has ever witnessed on this face. But what makes it all so worth it is the expression drawn on your face. You're whispering animatedly to your friend, a grin stretching your pink lips from ear to ear, cheeks tainted with an adorable red blush. You look so happy right now, Jimin can physically feel his heart shaken by the view. “Perfect. Now we can get on with the next sort. You better pay attention to this one as I can guarantee you, it will be on your final exam...”

Jimin is the first one to get out of the classroom. He wants to make sure not to miss you.

“If you're that good maybe I should ask you to do it for me too.” It's Taehyung's low voice. He's walking out, an arm wrapped around the quiet Hufflepuff girl who saved your ass today. Jimin would get mad at him for being so loud if only he wasn't overwhelmed with gratefulness. He looks at his friend, eyes hidden in two thin splits because of the wide grin he's wearing. He shoots her thumbs up but she just shrugs and leaves quickly, obviously upset.

“Does she know I was kidding?”

“Yeah... I don't know. Maybe. She just doesn't like cheating.”

“She's so good at it though!” Taehyung chuckles, hands clapping like a dumb seal. “Seriously, even though I knew it, it genuinely looked like ___ did it on her own!”

“Shut up!” Jimin gazes at him with pure rage in his eyes. If Taehyung wasn't almost twice as big as him, he would have trapped him in a headlock, and have him suffocate to death already. He should purchase a second set of voodoo fountains, he thinks.

Taehyung doesn't have time to argue as you're walking out of the room, arms locked with your best friend. Jimin dismissed him with a rude gesture and decides to walk up to you. Why does he feel so brave today? Before he can even think of an answer, he realizes he's already at your side.

“___! Hi. That was awesome, earlier. I knew you could do it!”

His voice sounds weird, too jumpy and unnatural, his words are stumbling messily out of his mouth but you don't seem to care as you smile gently at him. The sweet blush from earlier is back on your cheeks. “Thank you, Jimin. I have no idea how I did it but-”

“What do you mean? You're a great witch! You're working so hard all the time, of course you'd be able to do it-”

Jimin can feel the back of his neck burning from a sneaky pinch. He turns to look at Taehyung who is shooting an awkward rectangle smile to the two girls.

“Well, well, well, loverboy, I think we have places to go to. See you later, girls. You did great, ___!” He grabs the shorter boy by the back of his robe and pushes him towards the hallway, throwing a wave to the two slightly confused girls. Jimin is overly pissed now. Trying to get himself out of his friend grasp, he mumbles coarseness for only him to hear.

“Did you really need to call me 'loverboy' for fuck's sake tonight I swear to God you're dead you fucking-”

“Jimin, you were so embarrassing though.”

That little arrangement lasted for a few weeks only. Jimin would spend his evenings sweet-talking his friend into executing all the spells, for all the classes, for you. It wasn't an easy task to do, by the way, as she hated cheating and would always get out of class, pissed off. She couldn't tell him 'no' though, like most people. Jimin is charming. He's also very kind and overall appreciated by everyone. It's hard to deny him anything. Therefore, she did it for a little while. Until she couldn't take it anymore. It's Taehyung who came to him to tell him that she was too uncomfortable with the whole situation, and didn't want to be mean, but seriously, it's not even a solution for you.

Jimin panicked after the break of the news. He stayed awake the whole night, burning all his brain cells into finding a solution. There's one thing that has changed since you started receiving help: you're not the only one who gained in confidence, he did too. He could talk to you now, between classes and even during free times. And as you felt less upset all the time, you would take the time and the effort to engage in conversations with him.

And god you were sweet. He could hardly handle it. For some reason, he felt silly before for liking you without really knowing why. Yes, you were cute but so many people are. That's not a very valid reason. The fact that he felt bad for you not being able to produce a spark from your wand, was even a worse one. But now that he's having all these little conversations with you, now that he's shared laughter, and heard you lose yourself in tales of your life, he has a great reason. You're incredibly sweet and so lovable overall. He can't help it.

Yet, his accomplice, probably the best witch of their year, the only one he could ask this favour to, doesn't want to do it anymore. And along with her help, she's going to take away all the improvements you two have made. He feels sick at the thought alone. After having perambulated for hours, he throws himself in bed, grabs a pillow and screams his soul into it.

“Yah!”

“shut up yoongi i'm sad” He mumbles, face still buried.

“I don't fucking care. I need sleep.”

“why you need sleep all the time you ain't doing shit”

“YAH! That fucking brat... Who d'you think you're talking to?!”

Jimin groans some more and Yoongi gives up on sleeping now. He turns in his sheets, facing his way.

“Don't you have at least one working brain cell in that annoying head of yours? Seriously...”

“Tell me what to do if you're that smart.”

“Ask that Weasley kid for one of his Scintillation potion.”

“Scinti- what? What even is that?”

“It's what weak kids use this day to pass exams. It's supposed to increase your magic flood or something. I mean, she's a squib, it might not wor-”

“Yes! YES!” Jimin yelps, jumping on his bed like an excited puppy. “That's exactly what I need ! You could have told me that four hours ago but well-”

“Whatever. I got you a solution so shut the fuck up now.”

“I'll let you sleep, don't worry. Thanks, Yoongi.” He whispers through a smile. Who would have thought that Yoongi would have been the one to calm his troubled heart?-

“Get yourself an Armotentia too, you'll need it.”

Certainly, not Jimin.

The thing about potions you can get under Hogwarts cloaks, and especially the ones used to cheat, is that they're not made by professional potion makers. They're made by stupid kids like Weasley who just want to make some pocket money by extorting it to poor students, and also wish a little bit to cause chaos whenever that's possible. So of course, necessarily, that back up plan had to abort.

After weeks of being so successful in most of your classes, you failed miserably during one of your Divination class. In the middle of the lesson, as everyone was looking in their teacups, the content of yours unexpectedly started to boil and boil and boil until spilling everywhere. You were about to call for the Professor when the ominous crow you've vaguely caught a glimpse of before, materialised itself out of the liquid and flew at full speed out of the cup and collided against the roof. Another followed, and another one, and another one again and again until the room was full of angry birds, flapping their wings and croaking in hysterics.

Students started running around, screaming their heads off as if they were being attacked by them Hitchcok's style -which was not the case. Eventually, the whole class has been evacuated in the hallways except for you who had to follow Argus Filch to Professor McGonagall's office.

Jimin learned the incident as soon as his class was over. Overexcited students were discussing in the hallway, spreading all kind of rumours that made his blood ran cold. He knew most of it was bullshit -informations' accuracy never survived Hogwarts' telephone game- but he still caught your name and he knew you were involved somewhat in the new drama shaking up the school.

Grabbing the first Hufflepuff he could get a hand on -them being Taehyung, fortunately- he asked eagerly for what had happened. His friend just shot him a defeated sorry pout.

On his way to Professor McGonagall's office, his insides are all twisting and his mind is running like crazy. He's determined to do the right thing. He'll knock on this door; he'll face the severe stare of the Headmistress; and he'll admit all his offences. He won't mention his accomplices, of course. He just hopes they won't feed him some Veritaserum because then, they'll be fucked. He knows what he needs to do and he's not even that moved by the thought of the consequences. He did what he did. He knows why he did it. They might not approve but he doesn't care much.

All he cares about is your reaction. You're in there. In some way or another, they're probably figuring out what happened and telling you.

The moment he enters the corridor, he sees you closing the door. He calls out to you and rushes to join your side. You look at him, surprised to see him there until it clicks.

“It was you ?” You whisper, unable to hide the bitterness from your tone.

Jimin bites on his lip. His heart is literally breaking. He can actually feel it as he acknowledges your reddish nose and swollen eyes. He made you cry.

“I'm so sorry, ___. I-I never meant for all-”

You shut him off with a hand wave and just turn on your heels, ready to leave without sparing him another glance.

“I really am, ___. I promise you. I'm going to talk to McGonagall, don-”

“Don't!” You hush him, rushing back to him, with wide eyes. He frowns, not getting it, but you're already dragging him out of the main hallway to a more secluded one. “They have no idea it's you, Jimin.”

“Still. It's my fault, I should be held responsible for it.”

“Is it necessary? They didn't scold me when they learn I wasn't aware of anything. They're just going to expel you.”

“Well, I would have deserved it.”

You can't help but hum in approval. He grimaces. He should have gotten that Armotentia potion. His cause is fucking lost.

For a while, none of you says a word. You don't even face each other. You're pretending to study a painting hung on the wall -that would have been more believable if only the characters usually hanging out there were actually present. He is pretending to be interested in a crack on the wood floor, even though, he's glancing at you from the corner of his eyes.

After some time, he hears you let out a long, heartbreaking sigh.

“Why would you do that, Jimin? I thought we were friends.”

He flinches, taken aback not only by your words but also by the pain he can hear underlying in your voice.

“Of course, we're friends.”

“Because friends plan pranks on each other to make them believe they can actually do something they're yearning for for years? To then take it all away like that?”

You're clenching your fists tight against your side to hold in the tears. It hurts him to notice it but of course, he's so aware of you right now, he can't miss the least tremble of your body. He doesn't know what to do. Everything is playing now. If he doesn't explain his intentions right, he's losing you forever. Now that he heard you put it that way too, he's not so sure the whole thing ever was a good idea. It's so obvious put that way. How could he have missed it?

“___, I'm so terribly sorry. I didn't mean to fool you into believing anything, I just- You were so sad and I just wanted to make you feel better. I didn't think about how you'd feel if you learned the truth, I'm really sorry.”

“How could you not ?”

“I'm a fucking moron, ___.” A thin smile draws itself on your lips. He's not even trying to denigrate himself to get into your good favours. He is just so done with himself.

“I'm a squib, Jimin. I'm supposed to struggle and probably never make it. You can't go around passing my exams for me. It's not really helping.”

“I know. I get it now. I'm sorry.” He says. His voice is all milk and honey. You decide you can't be mad at him for much longer.

“It's fine.”

“Is it?”

You nod, tempting a smile his way.

“So we're good?”

“Yes, Jimin. We’re good.” Finally raising his chin up, he faces you. He's shooting you his infamous timid smile now, the one where his front teeth end up biting lightly on his plump lip. Through your messed up face, you grin in return. Although you don't really have the time to worry about it because of the fond way he's looking at you. Why is he even looking at you this way? “There's one thing I don't get, Jimin. There was this other squib in Slytherin last year, and even Tae is failing Transfiguration class since year 2. Why didn't you do it for them?”

“Cause I don't want to date them.” You choke on air at that. He keeps on smiling, pretending to be cool with what he just said, but you can see the tip of his ears darkening. The more you stare at him, eyes wide and open-mouthed, the less casual he looks. “If that's rejection just say it but don't let me- like that. Please.”

You start laughing, wholeheartedly, a hand claps to your mouth when you remember you're in the quiet upper hallways of Hogwarts. Jimin just stands there, awkwardly. He still is unsure what it all means but he's smitten by your laughter. Maybe he hasn't lost all his chances.

“I had no idea you liked me, Jimin.”

Well, he thought he was being sly but apparently his technics were just totally ineffective.

“Thanks to you, I don't have any classes left for today...” You start again. Jimin groans playfully. If you two are going to do this, you'll have to let go of this debacle. “Maybe we should go do something.” You're standing in front of him, looking at him square in the eyes, with obvious suspense painted all over your pretty face. He knows it's time for his line but he doesn't know what to say. He knows you're teasing. He can tell now that you want it too but for some reason, you want to hear him say it.

“Do you wanna go on a date with me ?” He mutters hardly loud enough for you to hear. Wow, he can't remember the last time he's been so fucking shy, it's ridiculous. He attempts to hide his burning face under his hands but you're quick to grab one.

“Okay.”

“I didn't plan anything obviously so don't like- hate me if it sucks.”

“It's okay. I think I hated you enough for today.”

“Cool.”

“By the way, now that I think about it... Tae was hinting your crush quite obviously, wasn't he ?”

“Um.”

[guardevoir]

🎨 ✒️ 💭

Note: This is for the character design meme I reblogged yesterday.Note to self: Maybe don’t reblog memes straight before going to bed.

When creating a character, do you come up with the visual concept or the written concept first? uH. uuuuUUUuhh…yes. Both? Both.Bonus factoid because that’s a bit of a half-assed answer: most of my characters arise for one of two reasons:1) the plot requires them, in which case the written description usually (usually, not necessarily) comes first, however basic it may be before I doodle them. Absalom, for instance, started out as ‘Val’s first mate’ (long story, that), and Elliot started out as ‘somebody has to have turned Gus into a vampire at some point’. Lizzy falls in this category, too.2) I have a concept I want to play around with, in which case the looks usually come first. 0813 falls into this category (creepy hooded thing), as does Severin (and oh boy, that one’s a long story). Justina, too, I think. Rena, as well. Jaime kind of started out as this, I think. And I haven’t drawn her in years, but Sharky and most of the old Treasures crew fall into this category as well.2.5) honorable mention: Gus falls into the ‘looks-first’ category, though I didn’t have a concept i wanted to play with in that case… I just wanted to try out a create-a-random-character game, in which you wrote down traits and then rolled a bunch of dice.

If you have characters that embody certain traits of yours—good or bad—has writing them changed how you view those traits? Has it affected you in any way?Not in a way that’s immediately obvious to me. 

Do you fantasize about being any of your characters, or are you more detached?Oh, I very much do not want to be any of my characters. As both M. and @dasmims like to remind me, I’m kind of a dick to my characters. Besides, I’m not really in the habit of fantasizing about anything involving myself. That said, I do tend to act out scenes, to get the logistics of scenes right. Object permanence can be surprisingly difficult, and I don’t fancy characters getting mirrored or teleporting across half a room.

[gyanpoint]

Distributed teams are rewriting the rules of office(less) politics

When we think about designing our dream home, we don’t think of having a thousand roommates in the same room with no doors or walls. Yet in today’s workplace where we spend most of our day, the purveyors of corporate office design insist that tearing down walls and bringing more people closer together in the same physical space will help foster better collaboration while dissolving the friction of traditional hierarchy and office politics.

But what happens when there is no office at all?

This is the reality for Jason Fried, Founder and CEO of Basecamp, and Matt Mullenweg, Founder and CEO of Automattic (makers of WordPress), who both run teams that are 100% distributed across six continents and many time zones. Fried and Mullenweg are the founding fathers of a movement that has inspired at least a dozen other companies to follow suit, including Zapier, Github, and Buffer. Both have either written a book, or have had a book written about them on the topic.

For all of the discussions about how to hire, fire, coordinate, motivate, and retain remote teams though, what is strangely missing is a discussion about how office politics changes when there is no office at all. To that end, I wanted to seek out the experience of these companies and ask: does remote work propagate, mitigate, or change the experience of office politics? What tactics are startups using to combat office politics, and are any of them effective?

“Can we take a step back here?”

Office politics is best described by a simple example. There is a project, with its goals, metrics, and timeline, and then there’s who gets to decide how it’s run, who gets to work on it, and who gets credit for it. The process for deciding this is a messy human one. While we all want to believe that these decisions are merit-based, data-driven, and objective, we all know the reality is very different. As a flood of research shows, they come with the baggage of human bias in perceptions, heuristics, and privilege.

Office politics is the internal maneuvering and positioning to shape these biases and perceptions to achieve a goal or influence a decision. When incentives are aligned, these goals point in same direction as the company. When they don’t, dysfunction ensues.

Perhaps this sounds too Darwinian, but it is a natural and inevitable outcome of being part of any organization where humans make the decisions. There is your work, and then there’s the management of your coworker’s and boss’s perception of your work.

There is no section in your employee handbook that will tell you how to navigate office politics. These are the tacit, unofficial rules that aren’t documented. This could include reworking your wardrobe to match your boss’s style (if you don’t believe me, ask how many people at Facebook own a pair of Nike Frees). Or making time to go to weekly happy hour not because you want to, but because it’s what you were told you needed to do to get ahead.

One of my favorite memes about workplace culture is Sarah Cooper’s “10 Tricks to Appear Smart in Meetings,” which includes…

Encouraging everyone to “take a step back” and ask “what problem are we really trying to solve”

Nodding continuously while appearing to take notes

Stepping out to take an “important phone call”

Jumping out of your seat to draw a Venn diagram on the whiteboard

Sarah Cooper, The Cooper Review

These cues and signals used in physical workplaces to shape and influence perceptions do not map onto the remote workplace, which gives us a unique opportunity to study how office politics can be different through the lens of the officeless.

Friends without benefits

For employees, the analogy that coworkers are like family is true in one sense — they are the roommates that we never got to choose. Learning to work together is difficult enough, but the physical office layers on the additional challenge of learning to live together. Contrast this with remote workplaces, which Mullenweg of Automattic believes helps alleviate the “cohabitation annoyances” that come with sharing the same space, allowing employees to focus on how to best work with each other, versus how their neighbor “talks too loud on the phone, listens to bad music, or eats smelly food.”

Additionally, remote workplaces free us of the tyranny of the tacit expectations and norms that might not have anything to do with work itself. At an investment bank, everyone knows that analysts come in before the managing director does, and leave after they do. This signals that you’re working hard.

Basecamp’s Fried calls this the “presence prison,” the need to be constantly aware of where your coworkers are and what they are doing at all times, both physically and virtually. And he’s waging a crusade against it, even to the point of removing the green dot on Basecamp’s product. “As a general rule, nobody at Basecamp really knows where anyone else is at any given moment. Are they working? Dunno. Are they taking a break? Dunno. Are they at lunch? Dunno. Are they picking up their kid from school? Dunno. Don’t care.”

There is credible basis for this practice. A study of factory workers by Harvard Business School showed that workers were 10% to 15% more productive when managers weren’t watching. This increase was attributed to giving workers the space and freedom to experiment with different approaches before explaining to managers, versus the control group which tended to follow prescribed instructions under the leery watch of their managers.

Remote workplaces experience a similar phenomenon, but by coincidence. “Working hard” can’t be observed physically so it has to be explained, documented, measured, and shared across the company. Cultural norms are not left to chance, or steered by fear or pressure, which should give individuals the autonomy to focus on the work itself, versus how their work is perceived.

Lastly, while physical workplaces can be the source of meaningful friendships and community, recent research by the Wharton School of Business is just beginning to unravel the complexities behind workplace friendships, which can be fraught with tensions from obligations, reciprocity and allegiances. When conflicts arise, you need to choose between what’s best for the company, and what’s best for your relationship with that person or group. You’re not going to help Bob because your best friend Sally used to date him and he was a dick. Or you’re willing to do anything for Jim because he coaches your kid’s soccer team, and vouched for you to get that promotion.

In remote workplaces, you don’t share the same neighborhood, your kids don’t go to the same school, and you don’t have to worry about which coworkers to invite to dinner parties. Your physical/personal and work communities don’t overlap, which means you (and your company) unintentionally avoid many of the hazards of toxic workplace relationships.

On the other hand, these same relationships can be important to overall employee engagement and well-being. This is evidenced by one of the findings in Buffer’s 2018 State of Remote Work Report, which surveyed over 1900 remote workers around the world. It found that next to collaborating and communicating, loneliness was the biggest struggle for remote workers.

Graph by Buffer (State of Remote Work 2018)

So while you may be able to feel like your own boss and avoid playing office politics in your home office, ultimately being alone may be more challenging than putting on a pair of pants and going to work.

Feature, not a bug?

Physical offices can have workers butting heads with each other. Image by UpperCut Images via Getty Images.

For organizations, the single biggest difference between remote and physical teams is the greater dependence on writing to establish the permanence and portability of organizational culture, norms and habits. Writing is different than speaking because it forces concision, deliberation, and structure, and this impacts how politics plays out in remote teams.

Writing changes the politics of meetings. Every Friday, Zapier employees send out a bulletin with: (1) things I said I’d do this week and their results, (2) other issues that came up, (3) things I’m doing next week. Everyone spends the first 10 minutes of the meeting in silence reading everyone’s updates.

Remote teams practice this context setting out of necessity, but it also provides positive auxiliary benefits of “hearing” from everyone around the table, and not letting meetings default to the loudest or most senior in the room. This practice can be adopted by companies with physical workplaces as well (in fact, Zapier CEO Wade Foster borrowed this from Amazon), but it takes discipline and leadership to change behavior, particularly when it is much easier for everyone to just show up like they’re used to.

Writing changes the politics of information sharing and transparency. At Basecamp, there are no all-hands or town hall meetings. All updates, decisions, and subsequent discussions are posted publicly to the entire company. For companies, this is pretty bold. It’s like having a Facebook wall with all your friends chiming in on your questionable decisions of the distant past that you can’t erase. But the beauty is that there is now a body of written decisions and discussions that serves as a rich and permanent artifact of institutional knowledge, accessible to anyone in the company. Documenting major decisions in writing depoliticizes access to information.

Remote workplaces are not without their challenges. Even though communication can be asynchronous through writing, leadership is not. Maintaining an apolitical culture (or any culture) requires a real-time feedback loop of not only what is said, but what is done, and how it’s done. Leaders lead by example in how they speak, act, and make decisions. This is much harder in a remote setting.

A designer from WordPress notes the interpersonal challenges of leading a remote team. “I can’t always see my teammates’ faces when I deliver instructions, feedback, or design criticism. I can’t always tell how they feel. It’s difficult to know if someone is having a bad day or a bad week.”

Zapier’s Foster is also well aware of these challenges in interpersonal dynamics. In fact, he has written a 200-page manifesto on how to run remote teams, where he has an entire section devoted to coaching teammates on how to meet each other for the first time. “Because we’re wired to look for threats in any new situation… try to limit phone or video calls to 15 minutes.” Or “listen without interrupting or sharing your own stories.” And to “ask short, open ended questions.” For anyone looking for a grade school refresher on how to make new friends, Wade Foster is the Dale Carnegie of the remote workforce.

To office, or not to office

What we learn from companies like Basecamp, Automattic, and Zapier is that closer proximity is not the antidote for office politics, and certainly not the quick fix for a healthy, productive culture.

Maintaining a healthy culture takes work, with deliberate processes and planning. Remote teams have to work harder to design and maintain these processes because they don’t have the luxury of assuming shared context through a physical workspace.

The result is a wealth of new ideas for a healthier, less political culture — being thoughtful about when to bring people together, and when to give people their time apart (ending the presence prison), or when to speak, and when to read and write (to democratize meetings). It seems that remote teams have largely succeeded in turning a bug into a feature. For any company still considering tearing down those office walls and doors, it’s time to pay attention to the lessons of the officeless.

from TechCrunch https://ift.tt/2BoZEik from Blogger https://ift.tt/2L6rkYW

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When we think about designing our dream home, we don’t think of having a thousand roommates in the same room with no doors or walls. Yet in today’s workplace where we spend most of our day, the purveyors of corporate office design insist that tearing down walls and bringing more people closer together in the same physical space will help foster better collaboration while dissolving the friction of traditional hierarchy and office politics.

But what happens when there is no office at all?

This is the reality for Jason Fried, Founder and CEO of Basecamp, and Matt Mullenweg, Founder and CEO of Automattic (makers of WordPress), who both run teams that are 100% distributed across six continents and many time zones. Fried and Mullenweg are the founding fathers of a movement that has inspired at least a dozen other companies to follow suit, including Zapier, Github, and Buffer. Both have either written a book, or have had a book written about them on the topic.

For all of the discussions about how to hire, fire, coordinate, motivate, and retain remote teams though, what is strangely missing is a discussion about how office politics changes when there is no office at all. To that end, I wanted to seek out the experience of these companies and ask: does remote work propagate, mitigate, or change the experience of office politics? What tactics are startups using to combat office politics, and are any of them effective?

“Can we take a step back here?”

Office politics is best described by a simple example. There is a project, with its goals, metrics, and timeline, and then there’s who gets to decide how it’s run, who gets to work on it, and who gets credit for it. The process for deciding this is a messy human one. While we all want to believe that these decisions are merit-based, data-driven, and objective, we all know the reality is very different. As a flood of research shows, they come with the baggage of human bias in perceptions, heuristics, and privilege.

Office politics is the internal maneuvering and positioning to shape these biases and perceptions to achieve a goal or influence a decision. When incentives are aligned, these goals point in same direction as the company. When they don’t, dysfunction ensues.

Perhaps this sounds too Darwinian, but it is a natural and inevitable outcome of being part of any organization where humans make the decisions. There is your work, and then there’s the management of your coworker’s and boss’s perception of your work.

There is no section in your employee handbook that will tell you how to navigate office politics. These are the tacit, unofficial rules that aren’t documented. This could include reworking your wardrobe to match your boss’s style (if you don’t believe me, ask how many people at Facebook own a pair of Nike Frees). Or making time to go to weekly happy hour not because you want to, but because it’s what you were told you needed to do to get ahead.

One of my favorite memes about workplace culture is Sarah Cooper’s “10 Tricks to Appear Smart in Meetings,” which includes…

Encouraging everyone to “take a step back” and ask “what problem are we really trying to solve”

Nodding continuously while appearing to take notes

Stepping out to take an “important phone call”

Jumping out of your seat to draw a Venn diagram on the whiteboard

Sarah Cooper, The Cooper Review

These cues and signals used in physical workplaces to shape and influence perceptions do not map onto the remote workplace, which gives us a unique opportunity to study how office politics can be different through the lens of the officeless.

Friends without benefits

For employees, the analogy that coworkers are like family is true in one sense — they are the roommates that we never got to choose. Learning to work together is difficult enough, but the physical office layers on the additional challenge of learning to live together. Contrast this with remote workplaces, which Mullenweg of Automattic believes helps alleviate the “cohabitation annoyances” that come with sharing the same space, allowing employees to focus on how to best work with each other, versus how their neighbor “talks too loud on the phone, listens to bad music, or eats smelly food.”

Additionally, remote workplaces free us of the tyranny of the tacit expectations and norms that might not have anything to do with work itself. At an investment bank, everyone knows that analysts come in before the managing director does, and leave after they do. This signals that you’re working hard.

Basecamp’s Fried calls this the “presence prison,” the need to be constantly aware of where your coworkers are and what they are doing at all times, both physically and virtually. And he’s waging a crusade against it, even to the point of removing the green dot on Basecamp’s product. “As a general rule, nobody at Basecamp really knows where anyone else is at any given moment. Are they working? Dunno. Are they taking a break? Dunno. Are they at lunch? Dunno. Are they picking up their kid from school? Dunno. Don’t care.”

There is credible basis for this practice. A study of factory workers by Harvard Business School showed that workers were 10% to 15% more productive when managers weren’t watching. This increase was attributed to giving workers the space and freedom to experiment with different approaches before explaining to managers, versus the control group which tended to follow prescribed instructions under the leery watch of their managers.

Remote workplaces experience a similar phenomenon, but by coincidence. “Working hard” can’t be observed physically so it has to be explained, documented, measured, and shared across the company. Cultural norms are not left to chance, or steered by fear or pressure, which should give individuals the autonomy to focus on the work itself, versus how their work is perceived.

Lastly, while physical workplaces can be the source of meaningful friendships and community, recent research by the Wharton School of Business is just beginning to unravel the complexities behind workplace friendships, which can be fraught with tensions from obligations, reciprocity and allegiances. When conflicts arise, you need to choose between what’s best for the company, and what’s best for your relationship with that person or group. You’re not going to help Bob because your best friend Sally used to date him and he was a dick. Or you’re willing to do anything for Jim because he coaches your kid’s soccer team, and vouched for you to get that promotion.

In remote workplaces, you don’t share the same neighborhood, your kids don’t go to the same school, and you don’t have to worry about which coworkers to invite to dinner parties. Your physical/personal and work communities don’t overlap, which means you (and your company) unintentionally avoid many of the hazards of toxic workplace relationships.

On the other hand, these same relationships can be important to overall employee engagement and well-being. This is evidenced by one of the findings in Buffer’s 2018 State of Remote Work Report, which surveyed over 1900 remote workers around the world. It found that next to collaborating and communicating, loneliness was the biggest struggle for remote workers.

Graph by Buffer (State of Remote Work 2018)

So while you may be able to feel like your own boss and avoid playing office politics in your home office, ultimately being alone may be more challenging than putting on a pair of pants and going to work.

Feature, not a bug?

Physical offices can have workers butting heads with each other. Image by UpperCut Images via Getty Images.

For organizations, the single biggest difference between remote and physical teams is the greater dependence on writing to establish the permanence and portability of organizational culture, norms and habits. Writing is different than speaking because it forces concision, deliberation, and structure, and this impacts how politics plays out in remote teams.

Writing changes the politics of meetings. Every Friday, Zapier employees send out a bulletin with: (1) things I said I’d do this week and their results, (2) other issues that came up, (3) things I’m doing next week. Everyone spends the first 10 minutes of the meeting in silence reading everyone’s updates.

Remote teams practice this context setting out of necessity, but it also provides positive auxiliary benefits of “hearing” from everyone around the table, and not letting meetings default to the loudest or most senior in the room. This practice can be adopted by companies with physical workplaces as well (in fact, Zapier CEO Wade Foster borrowed this from Amazon), but it takes discipline and leadership to change behavior, particularly when it is much easier for everyone to just show up like they’re used to.

Writing changes the politics of information sharing and transparency. At Basecamp, there are no all-hands or town hall meetings. All updates, decisions, and subsequent discussions are posted publicly to the entire company. For companies, this is pretty bold. It’s like having a Facebook wall with all your friends chiming in on your questionable decisions of the distant past that you can’t erase. But the beauty is that there is now a body of written decisions and discussions that serves as a rich and permanent artifact of institutional knowledge, accessible to anyone in the company. Documenting major decisions in writing depoliticizes access to information.

Remote workplaces are not without their challenges. Even though communication can be asynchronous through writing, leadership is not. Maintaining an apolitical culture (or any culture) requires a real-time feedback loop of not only what is said, but what is done, and how it’s done. Leaders lead by example in how they speak, act, and make decisions. This is much harder in a remote setting.

A designer from WordPress notes the interpersonal challenges of leading a remote team. “I can’t always see my teammates’ faces when I deliver instructions, feedback, or design criticism. I can’t always tell how they feel. It’s difficult to know if someone is having a bad day or a bad week.”

Zapier’s Foster is also well aware of these challenges in interpersonal dynamics. In fact, he has written a 200-page manifesto on how to run remote teams, where he has an entire section devoted to coaching teammates on how to meet each other for the first time. “Because we’re wired to look for threats in any new situation… try to limit phone or video calls to 15 minutes.” Or “listen without interrupting or sharing your own stories.” And to “ask short, open ended questions.” For anyone looking for a grade school refresher on how to make new friends, Wade Foster is the Dale Carnegie of the remote workforce.

To office, or not to office

What we learn from companies like Basecamp, Automattic, and Zapier is that closer proximity is not the antidote for office politics, and certainly not the quick fix for a healthy, productive culture.

Maintaining a healthy culture takes work, with deliberate processes and planning. Remote teams have to work harder to design and maintain these processes because they don’t have the luxury of assuming shared context through a physical workspace.

The result is a wealth of new ideas for a healthier, less political culture — being thoughtful about when to bring people together, and when to give people their time apart (ending the presence prison), or when to speak, and when to read and write (to democratize meetings). It seems that remote teams have largely succeeded in turning a bug into a feature. For any company still considering tearing down those office walls and doors, it’s time to pay attention to the lessons of the officeless.

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Distributed teams are rewriting the rules of office(less) politics

When we think about designing our dream home, we don’t think of having a thousand roommates in the same room with no doors or walls. Yet in today’s workplace where we spend most of our day, the purveyors of corporate office design insist that tearing down walls and bringing more people closer together in the same physical space will help foster better collaboration while dissolving the friction of traditional hierarchy and office politics.

But what happens when there is no office at all?

This is the reality for Jason Fried, Founder and CEO of Basecamp, and Matt Mullenweg, Founder and CEO of Automattic (makers of WordPress), who both run teams that are 100% distributed across six continents and many time zones. Fried and Mullenweg are the founding fathers of a movement that has inspired at least a dozen other companies to follow suit, including Zapier, Github, and Buffer. Both have either written a book, or have had a book written about them on the topic.

For all of the discussions about how to hire, fire, coordinate, motivate, and retain remote teams though, what is strangely missing is a discussion about how office politics changes when there is no office at all. To that end, I wanted to seek out the experience of these companies and ask: does remote work propagate, mitigate, or change the experience of office politics? What tactics are startups using to combat office politics, and are any of them effective?

“Can we take a step back here?”

Office politics is best described by a simple example. There is a project, with its goals, metrics, and timeline, and then there’s who gets to decide how it’s run, who gets to work on it, and who gets credit for it. The process for deciding this is a messy human one. While we all want to believe that these decisions are merit-based, data-driven, and objective, we all know the reality is very different. As a flood of research shows, they come with the baggage of human bias in perceptions, heuristics, and privilege.

Office politics is the internal maneuvering and positioning to shape these biases and perceptions to achieve a goal or influence a decision. When incentives are aligned, these goals point in same direction as the company. When they don’t, dysfunction ensues.

Perhaps this sounds too Darwinian, but it is a natural and inevitable outcome of being part of any organization where humans make the decisions. There is your work, and then there’s the management of your coworker’s and boss’s perception of your work.

There is no section in your employee handbook that will tell you how to navigate office politics. These are the tacit, unofficial rules that aren’t documented. This could include reworking your wardrobe to match your boss’s style (if you don’t believe me, ask how many people at Facebook own a pair of Nike Frees). Or making time to go to weekly happy hour not because you want to, but because it’s what you were told you needed to do to get ahead.

One of my favorite memes about workplace culture is Sarah Cooper’s “10 Tricks to Appear Smart in Meetings,” which includes…

Encouraging everyone to “take a step back” and ask “what problem are we really trying to solve”

Nodding continuously while appearing to take notes

Stepping out to take an “important phone call”

Jumping out of your seat to draw a Venn diagram on the whiteboard

Sarah Cooper, The Cooper Review

These cues and signals used in physical workplaces to shape and influence perceptions do not map onto the remote workplace, which gives us a unique opportunity to study how office politics can be different through the lens of the officeless.

Friends without benefits

For employees, the analogy that coworkers are like family is true in one sense — they are the roommates that we never got to choose. Learning to work together is difficult enough, but the physical office layers on the additional challenge of learning to live together. Contrast this with remote workplaces, which Mullenweg of Automattic believes helps alleviate the “cohabitation annoyances” that come with sharing the same space, allowing employees to focus on how to best work with each other, versus how their neighbor “talks too loud on the phone, listens to bad music, or eats smelly food.”

Additionally, remote workplaces free us of the tyranny of the tacit expectations and norms that might not have anything to do with work itself. At an investment bank, everyone knows that analysts come in before the managing director does, and leave after they do. This signals that you’re working hard.

Basecamp’s Fried calls this the “presence prison,” the need to be constantly aware of where your coworkers are and what they are doing at all times, both physically and virtually. And he’s waging a crusade against it, even to the point of removing the green dot on Basecamp’s product. “As a general rule, nobody at Basecamp really knows where anyone else is at any given moment. Are they working? Dunno. Are they taking a break? Dunno. Are they at lunch? Dunno. Are they picking up their kid from school? Dunno. Don’t care.”

There is credible basis for this practice. A study of factory workers by Harvard Business School showed that workers were 10% to 15% more productive when managers weren’t watching. This increase was attributed to giving workers the space and freedom to experiment with different approaches before explaining to managers, versus the control group which tended to follow prescribed instructions under the leery watch of their managers.

Remote workplaces experience a similar phenomenon, but by coincidence. “Working hard” can’t be observed physically so it has to be explained, documented, measured, and shared across the company. Cultural norms are not left to chance, or steered by fear or pressure, which should give individuals the autonomy to focus on the work itself, versus how their work is perceived.

Lastly, while physical workplaces can be the source of meaningful friendships and community, recent research by the Wharton School of Business is just beginning to unravel the complexities behind workplace friendships, which can be fraught with tensions from obligations, reciprocity and allegiances. When conflicts arise, you need to choose between what’s best for the company, and what’s best for your relationship with that person or group. You’re not going to help Bob because your best friend Sally used to date him and he was a dick. Or you’re willing to do anything for Jim because he coaches your kid’s soccer team, and vouched for you to get that promotion.

In remote workplaces, you don’t share the same neighborhood, your kids don’t go to the same school, and you don’t have to worry about which coworkers to invite to dinner parties. Your physical/personal and work communities don’t overlap, which means you (and your company) unintentionally avoid many of the hazards of toxic workplace relationships.

On the other hand, these same relationships can be important to overall employee engagement and well-being. This is evidenced by one of the findings in Buffer’s 2018 State of Remote Work Report, which surveyed over 1900 remote workers around the world. It found that next to collaborating and communicating, loneliness was the biggest struggle for remote workers.

Graph by Buffer (State of Remote Work 2018)

So while you may be able to feel like your own boss and avoid playing office politics in your home office, ultimately being alone may be more challenging than putting on a pair of pants and going to work.

Feature, not a bug?

Physical offices can have workers butting heads with each other. Image by UpperCut Images via Getty Images.

For organizations, the single biggest difference between remote and physical teams is the greater dependence on writing to establish the permanence and portability of organizational culture, norms and habits. Writing is different than speaking because it forces concision, deliberation, and structure, and this impacts how politics plays out in remote teams.

Writing changes the politics of meetings. Every Friday, Zapier employees send out a bulletin with: (1) things I said I’d do this week and their results, (2) other issues that came up, (3) things I’m doing next week. Everyone spends the first 10 minutes of the meeting in silence reading everyone’s updates.

Remote teams practice this context setting out of necessity, but it also provides positive auxiliary benefits of “hearing” from everyone around the table, and not letting meetings default to the loudest or most senior in the room. This practice can be adopted by companies with physical workplaces as well (in fact, Zapier CEO Wade Foster borrowed this from Amazon), but it takes discipline and leadership to change behavior, particularly when it is much easier for everyone to just show up like they’re used to.

Writing changes the politics of information sharing and transparency. At Basecamp, there are no all-hands or town hall meetings. All updates, decisions, and subsequent discussions are posted publicly to the entire company. For companies, this is pretty bold. It’s like having a Facebook wall with all your friends chiming in on your questionable decisions of the distant past that you can’t erase. But the beauty is that there is now a body of written decisions and discussions that serves as a rich and permanent artifact of institutional knowledge, accessible to anyone in the company. Documenting major decisions in writing depoliticizes access to information.

Remote workplaces are not without their challenges. Even though communication can be asynchronous through writing, leadership is not. Maintaining an apolitical culture (or any culture) requires a real-time feedback loop of not only what is said, but what is done, and how it’s done. Leaders lead by example in how they speak, act, and make decisions. This is much harder in a remote setting.

A designer from WordPress notes the interpersonal challenges of leading a remote team. “I can’t always see my teammates’ faces when I deliver instructions, feedback, or design criticism. I can’t always tell how they feel. It’s difficult to know if someone is having a bad day or a bad week.”

Zapier’s Foster is also well aware of these challenges in interpersonal dynamics. In fact, he has written a 200-page manifesto on how to run remote teams, where he has an entire section devoted to coaching teammates on how to meet each other for the first time. “Because we’re wired to look for threats in any new situation… try to limit phone or video calls to 15 minutes.” Or “listen without interrupting or sharing your own stories.” And to “ask short, open ended questions.” For anyone looking for a grade school refresher on how to make new friends, Wade Foster is the Dale Carnegie of the remote workforce.

To office, or not to office

What we learn from companies like Basecamp, Automattic, and Zapier is that closer proximity is not the antidote for office politics, and certainly not the quick fix for a healthy, productive culture.

Maintaining a healthy culture takes work, with deliberate processes and planning. Remote teams have to work harder to design and maintain these processes because they don’t have the luxury of assuming shared context through a physical workspace.

The result is a wealth of new ideas for a healthier, less political culture — being thoughtful about when to bring people together, and when to give people their time apart (ending the presence prison), or when to speak, and when to read and write (to democratize meetings). It seems that remote teams have largely succeeded in turning a bug into a feature. For any company still considering tearing down those office walls and doors, it’s time to pay attention to the lessons of the officeless.

Via John Chen https://techcrunch.com