#its a different kind of distrust than 13 too like 13 is personally distrustful sure but like universally hopeful

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

my doctor is so fucking distrustful im laughing at myself

[neednothavehappenedtobetrue]

okay. this is a post about a new character, who is a person in the same 'verse as the main one for Robert and Isabelle, sci-fi and spaceships. she is a pastor in the one specific "limits on technology" religion I made up, but also, she is very cool. she does not live on their main terraformed colony, she lives in another colony with some definite cultural differences.

I am mostly posting this for my own future reference. there are definitely people who will enjoy Gwendolyn a lot, even with the extensive trigger tag situation here, but I think "a short story that has space for more nuance" would be a better venue for her than "my thoughts from Skype at 4AM"

if you do decide to read this, check the tags first, please

shoutout to @anonymus-maximus-er for being my thought partner on this.

but as I understand it now, there are, like , degrees of Intensity in Church Of Man

like, even their chillest followers are kind of intense about it because it's hard to be real, real chill about "god said we were only allowed to use these specific fifteen technologies" or whatever the exact rules are

but as far as incubators go, Aimee's community, the one you saw, would definitely have been like "well, too bad God wants that baby to die" and there are some other communities which would be more like "okay, probably make sure your baby does not die, do what you've gotta do there, but don't come back and talk to us afterwards"

and also for sure there are communities like "do literally whatever you have to do to make sure your baby does not die, we will be here with whole-made casseroles when you're home again"

and like, could some of those kids have benefitted from subsequent quality-of-life stuff they didn't get? probably, yes

to varying degrees

but hopefully Aimee finds a nice community where she can be like "this is so important to me but my babies and I experienced a bunch of technology in order to not die and we got excommunicated."

and they're like "wow that sounds like a lot of Not Your Fault would you like some whole-made casseroles and toddler clothes?"

and she's like "I got excommunicated" and they're like "did you know, perhaps you didn't, that there is no Central Authority for every Church Of Man church in the galaxy? there for sure is not! the people from New Maryland often pretend they are, but we didn't vote for them! your old pastor is just not at all the boss of us, is the thing"

that is the future epilogue I want for Aimee

I feel like the Tau Ceti Church of Man community is small and some people think they're weird, but they're nice neighbors. their pastor is a woman named Gwendolyn or something who is just constantly mad about Richard Brinton That Fucking Asshole

she has never called him any of those words because of decorum, she has just spent a lot of time talking to new people like "wow you seem very traumatized did you know he is not the boss of us?"

"we don't have a pope!"

"we've tried to have a council a few times, but it's logistically complicated"

"every church is supposed to make its own rules in accordance with the texts"

"yes, I have read every single one of his missives to the world, I know which bits of the Texts you probably have memorized, here are some bits I like a lot"

Gwendolyn has some opinions

like, churches are supposed to set their own rules about "necessary" technologies and she has quietly labeled almost all life-saving medical technology "necessary"

meanwhile, Brinton thinks it's necessary for him to have access to telecommunications equipment to he can send his editorials all over the galaxy, so people can be Educated

huh

of course, he does not actually physically touch the telecommunications equipment, he keeps like four people who know how to use it around so they can spread his word, but also, huh

the thing about Gwendolyn is that she has spent a long time watching traumatized New Marylanders join her community, many of them quite young and quite traumatized

also, she was never a New Marylander, she is fourth-generation Tau Ceti, which, crucially

means that her first set of principles is "Church Stuff, Misc" and her second set of principles, right there after the first is "you're not the boss of me"

even if somebody could point to actual scripture that said they were the boss of her, she would have some trouble with it, but some dude! who cannot point to anything at all! no justification whatsoever! nothing in the texts even a little bit! keeps trying to be the boss of her! and also keeps traumatizing all of the people in his community pretty badly! and making everyone else look like jerks!

"I'm more conservative than you, therefore, I am the boss of you"

NOPE

not for Gwendolyn

Gwendolyn votes in every local election and votes for her Senator, who she has met and quite likes. she occasionally goes to protests when the local government does some dipshit thing, but the Tau Ceti local government is pretty well-behaved because if it's not the citizenry will absolutely be like "fuck you, you're not the boss of me" at its government

she has some Very Big Opinions about debtor employment. she's not thrilled about the like, severity of the gang situation in her city, but she doesn't have a lot of optimism that the Government is gonna fix it, so she does community groups instead

also, in recognition of the fact that she can't just throw these traumatized New Marylanders right off into the personal autonomy deep end she is like "okay, if you need someone to tell you what to do sometimes, I will be the temporary boss of you until you are ready to be the boss of you"

she does not Love that aspect of her job, but sometimes you gotta

you can't bring people from "obedience all the time" to "you must make every choice in your life with no backup" overnight, they'll just collapse in on themselves or become targets for worse people

so she does the thing

she and Brinton have a <very> passive aggressive correspondence going as church leaders

there are many many long letters back and forth

they are very polite and also, if any of them are preserved, historians will find them fascinating

"wow these people just fucking loathed each other"

Anonymus, 5:05 AM

your obedient servant, A. Burr

5:05 AM

if they did not live on separate planets, legitimately maybe

like, if she could get to Brinton's house on a horse to yell at him in person, she would have by now

she didn't swear a lot in real life, but sometimes she wanted to

she got real good at saying "that man" or "sugar" or "nonsense" in A Tone, but you could tell

I can't decide if she has a husband or a wife

Aimee's church definitely thinks gay people are Modern and therefore Wrong, but like

I feel like probably their specific religious texts don't even have that much on being nice to people? like, there's definitely a few pages on like "kindness is an ancient value, we hold fast to ancient values, these are them"

but it's like 70% Rules Minutiae

it's also not a super long book

so everybody has very different opinions about how to interpret the Rules Minutiae in light of the 30% of the book that's like "here are our actual values"

"modesty" and "fidelity" are both in the Ancient Values bits for sure

and I feel like different denominations went in different directions on the "modesty" and "fidelity" implications of "gay people"

no, I've decided, Gwendolyn definitely has a wife

show her in the actual rules where she can't have a wife

yes, fidelity, that thing she has with her wife

Anonymus, 5:13 AM

can the wife be a very proper rebbetzin?

organises all the casserole chains

5:14 AM

yes, she can definitely organize all of the casserole chains

5:18 AM

right

Gwendolyn's wife's name is Tara and she came from an Earth Church of Man community where they were like "technically it's not illegal for you to be gay, but, like, ehhhh? we'd rather you didn't and also you definitely cannot have children if you're gay"

5:20 AM

and she got to Tau Ceti and met Gwendolyn who even in college was like "show me in the texts where it says I cannot have a wife."

"show me."

Anonymus, 5:21 AM

sounds like excellent breeding ground for Very Textually and Theologically Conversant, but not actually a religious authority

5:21 AM

the thing is, Tau Ceti is Bad At Authority

if they had a motto on their coins it would just be "you're not the boss of me" but maybe in Latin

but maybe not even in Latin because people who know Latin often think they are the boss of you

Anonymus, 5:22 AM

WHO MADE U KING

5:22 AM

for real

I think there is a dude who is technically the "boss" of Gwendolyn and they take turns giving the sermons and calibrating which parishoners they support based on like, communication styles in a way that often ends up with just all of the women and queer folks being Gwendolyn's people

she is smarter than him, he handles all of the Local Politics things that require you not to go "EXCUSE me, where is the LAW ABOUT THAT"

Anonymus, 5:24 AM

different type of smart

5:24 AM

if he ever tried to pull rank on her, she would either be so startled that it would work or she would unhinge her jaw and eat him

so he's never tried

he doesn't want to! very few people on Tau Ceti even want to be in charge, both because it's like herding cats who will hate you if they catch you herding them and because the finely honed distrust of authority doesn't go away when you become authority

Anonymus, 5:26 AM

"I'm pretty sure I'm up to some bullshit"

5:27 AM

yeah, Gwendolyn spends a lot of time with these sad transplants from other communities, nearly all of them women (because for SOME REASON women tend to get excommunicated WAY MORE OFTEN. HUH. are there ADDITIONAL RULES for WOMEN? I DON'T SEE ANY)

and they're like "please I am so sad and scared just tell me what to do"

and she wants to be like "I am not the boss of you, you have to be the boss of you" but they often are not ready for that, so she just tries to get a sense of what they want to do or what might be healthiest for them and tells them her strong recommendation is that they do that thing

everyone in her community knows she is passionate and can get fired up about some of this stuff, she doesn't hide that, but also, there are some conversations she (a only has with her wife and also (b has had with her wife a number of times

they are basically "our community is like 55% traumatized exiles from other communities and like 30% traumatized people from This One Dude's Community specifically. he traumatizes women and girls and girls he calls women and gay people and parents with sick babies!"

"we have so so many people we take care of now who are so so shaken and traumatized and sad"

"and we only get the people who don't leave the faith entirely!"

"it's not fair! it's not fair that he gets to do that! it's not fair!"

because when you carry the faces of like twenty good people all traumatized by the same garbage person and all you can do is try to take care of them and send passive-aggressive letters, sometimes it sucks!

if they lived on the same planet and she could get there on a horse, she would have done something ill-advised by now. yelled, certainly

but then again, if she had been born on New Maryland she would be a super different person and if he had been born on Tau Ceti there would have been a hard upper limit on how much he could get anyone to listen to him

like, bad bullshit happens on Tau Ceti, but the first time he married a fourteen-year-old girl off to her rapist, his neighbors would have set him on fire

church of man neighbors, regular neighbors, possibly neighbors who are criminals, just all the neighbors

5:37 AM

so her wife listens to her cry and reads over her letters to Brinton to make sure she doesn't actually say anything Too Impolitic (I think her boss also reads them, but he's less invested)

and her wife has these new folks over for dinner and helps them find clothes for their kids and adapt their modesty rules to the thing where it's like, as hot as it is possible to be in Tau Ceti

5:38 AM

like, most of the summer it's like 120 degrees, on a brisk day in December it drops into like, the low nineties

5:39 AM

sometimes people from other communities are like "we do modesty more modestly than they do" and they have to be like "okay, your choices are us dressing this way or us using air conditioning, because people do die in real life of heatstroke sometimes, that is a thing that can kill you"

also, even before Gwendolyn came along, her previous pastor was definitely like "we're gonna make electric fans permissible. we're just... heatstroke sure does kill you in real life"

"particularly in Modest Dress"

she liked him. they had meetings like twice a month when she was young because she had A Lot of questions and her parents were less invested in the answers than she was

when she was like twelve, he was like "maybe they'll give you my job one day" and she was like "I don't want your job! you're the boss of people!" and he was like "they very much would not give you my job if you wanted my job, kiddo"

(even 50% of the organized crime leaders on Tau Ceti are like "hey, I'm not the boss of anybody, I'm just a guy you don't want to fuck with because of all of the friends that I have got"

"I am not the boss of you, but I do have this gun")

5:49 AM

final thought on Gwendolyn: she had a real hard time when Robert Thompson died, because that dude thought her faith was a good reason to murder a husband and father.

and like, that dude is a fucking asshole, obviously, but it's hard

and then Brinton puts out an editorial about it and it is the only time Gwendolyn and Tara's children ever hear one of their mothers swear

because she is usually super meticulous about that

but also, sometimes

there is a limit

she makes several attempts before she writes him her next letter and the subtext of the entire letter is just "fuck you SO much, I do not generally believe in Hell, however, I will make an exception"

there is a limit! a man is dead and his wife and daughter are grieving and then a dude who everyone thinks is, like, the pope of her puts out some bullshit like "of course we don't do hate crimes but also that dude who got murdered deserved it" bullshit

there is a limit she is past it!

5:53 AM

also, they have seven adopted kids

[nikibogwater]

A Shot in the Dark: a Tales of Arcadia Fanfiction (Chapter 1)

"...The Arcane Order doesn’t actually care whether you live or die. They have given me permission to do to you whatever I deem necessary. So...” Douxie swallowed and grit his teeth as Rivan’s hand began to glow with an ugly, pulsing red light. “...I will ask politely one more time before I resort to more extreme measures. Where is the forest-child Nari?”

When Douxie is stripped of his magic and captured by a new enemy, Nari and Archie risk everything to come to his rescue.

(Chapter 2)

(Chapter 3)

Here we are, dears, the first chapter. Don’t forget to check out the author’s commentary after you’ve finished (if that’s the kind of thing you’re interested in) and I will be back with the next chapter on Nov. 13. Thank you all for waiting, and I hope you enjoy. 💕

Read on Ao3

Or under the cut:

Most of Douxie’s mornings began with the harsh, clattering sound of his phone vibrating and whistling next to his ear. Necessary as his morning alarm was, he still hated it with every fiber of his being. So he had been borderline ecstatic when he slipped into bed the night before and left his phone alarm off, envisioning a long, uninterrupted sleep that he hoped would end no sooner than ten am, preferably eleven. This Saturday marked his first real day off since moving to this blasted city, and he intended to relish in it with all his might.

So he was just a tad miffed when, at approximately eight-fifteen, a strange, nervous sensation rising in his chest slowly pulled him from slumber. He attempted to ignore it, simply burrowing down deeper into his pillow, but the feeling did not abate. He could not shake the peculiar awareness that he was being watched. In the end, centuries of experience forced him to heed his instincts, and he pried one eyelid open and glanced over his shoulder.

Two pairs of luminous golden eyes were hovering uncomfortably close to his head and staring at him fixedly. Douxie yelped and threw off his covers, scrambling upright and fumbling for his magic vambrace nearby. A small green hand held it out to him politely, and after a bit of confused blinking, Douxie finally registered the faces of his companions. Nari and Archie were sitting on the floor next to his mattress, looking at him eagerly. He felt himself deflate as he gave a long sigh of relief.

“Fuzzbuckets, you two, don’t creep on me like that,” he admonished lightly, fastening his vambrace around his left wrist. Nari gave him a sheepish smile while Archie stepped up onto his mattress and rubbed against Douxie’s side.

“Next time, don’t oversleep,” the Familiar replied. “You do remember what day it is?”

“Yeah, it’s Saturday. My day off. Hence the reason I was sleeping,” Douxie said with a yawn, stretching his arms above his head.

“It’s also the day you promised to bring Nari to Central Park,” Archie informed him.

“...It is?” the wizard mumbled groggily, looking at the wood nymph crouched nearby. She gave him a somewhat apologetic nod.“...It is. Ah, fuzzbuckets, I’m sorry, I completely forgot.” He tumbled out of his bed, snatching up his day clothes from a heap on the floor. “I’ll be ready in two shakes,” he promised, ruffling Nari’s hair before pushing himself to his feet. He staggered to the bathroom, running his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair, very nearly smacking his head on the doorframe.

“Perhaps we should not have woken him,” Nari fretted as the door closed behind the wizard.

“You know Douxie always acts like a plague victim first thing in the morning, regardless of how much he slept.” Archie reminded her, following Nari into the kitchen area and pulling the box of English Breakfast tea out of the cupboard while she filled the kettle at the sink.

Mornings for Nari looked very different than they used to, she realized as she set the kettle on the stove, stepping back so Archie could light it (due to her somewhat complicated relationship with Bellroc, she was still wary about anything that involved fire). As a demigoddess who had existed for hundreds of millenia, she had never had much experience with something as human as family domesticity. Her siblings (if the Arcane Order could ever really be called such) certainly never spent mornings bustling around a kitchen making tea for one another, but even if they had, Nari was beginning to understand that there was more to being a family than the mundane routines. There was a feeling in the air around her, a sensation of companionship and contentment that felt almost otherworldly at times, yet it was inextricably linked to these small, daily, human gestures of kindness.

Douxie emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, just as Nari was squeezing out the teabag. His damp hair was combed back into its usual neat appearance, and he was wearing his favorite hoodie. He mumbled a quiet ‘thanks’ as Nari presented the cup of tea to him, and slumped back against the island countertop as he took a sip. Archie sat down on the counter behind him, pressing against his wizard’s back and purring contentedly into the soft, warm fabric of his jacket. Nari mirrored Douxie’s position beside him, trying to quell the nervous excitement fluttering in her chest. She had heard much about Central Park, and after going two-and-a-half months without feeling any real grass beneath her feet, the thought of visiting even the smallest pocket of nature made her spirit tingle in anticipation. But she kept still and quiet, trying her best to be patient as Douxie drank his tea, slowly working his way back to full alertness.

“Right,” he sighed after he had drained the last drop from his mug. “You two already had breakfast?”

“Nari was kind enough to open a tin of sardines for me earlier,” Archie answered. “And she says the sunlight is strong enough today that she will not require any food.”

“Okay,” Douxie hummed as he set his mug in the sink and ran water in it. “Then I guess we’re ready.”

“Wait,” Nari chided, opening one of the cupboards and pulling out two granola bars. “You need sustenance as well.”

“Right. I forgot,” the wizard chuckled, slipping her offering into one of his pockets. “I’ll eat when we get there.” He grabbed his keys off of the counter and held out an arm for Archie to clamber up onto his shoulder. Nari scurried to the door eagerly, practically bouncing on her toes as Douxie reached out to undo the magical seals. Before his hand made contact with the door, he drew back suddenly and snapped his fingers.

“Fuzzbuckets, I’m forgetting all kinds of things today,” he muttered, turning to the small demigoddess. “Nari, face me and hold very still for just a second.”

“What is this for?” she asked, intrigued as Douxie knelt down to her level and placed his hands on either side of her head, his middle and index fingers pressing gently against her temples.

“I’ve been looking into some concealing spells that can be cast directly onto a person, rather than on an area. It’s a lot more complicated than the standard protective wards, but it should make your aura undetectable to other magic users for a little while.”

“Isn’t that a little excessive?” Archie remarked, climbing down from Douxie’s shoulder in order to give him some breathing room for the spell. “The entire reason we came here is because it is almost impossible to detect individual auras in a place this crowded.”

“I don’t see any harm in taking extra precautions,” Douxie replied. “Keep very still for me, Nari.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his aura flowing out and wrapping around her like a warm, familiar cloak. “Celare,” he murmured, and Nari felt a sharp tug on her spirit as the spell washed over it, cool and comforting like the shade of an old tree. Douxie’s hands fell away from her head and he sat back on his knees, his breath short and a little ragged. “Wow,” he panted. “You have....a lot of magic. I almost didn’t have enough of my own to cover it all.”

“...I’m sorry,” Nari answered meekly, unsure of what else to say. Douxie laughed breathlessly and shook his head, bringing a hand up to squeeze her shoulder.

“You’re fine. I’m just impressed.” He levered himself back to his feet, bracing himself against the door for a moment, before seeming to collect his bearings. Archie hopped back up onto his shoulder and nudged his head in silent inquiry. Douxie waved him off with a soft ‘I’m fine.’ Then he disabled the protective seals and opened the door, stepping back and gesturing to Nari. “Let’s go.”

“Should your magic not also be concealed?” she asked as they emerged into the hallway, pausing while Douxie locked the door behind them (the ordinary way--he didn’t see any need for magic seals if none of them were home).

“I’m afraid I can’t cast the spell on myself,” he explained, pocketing his keys. “Anyways, I don’t think the Order had enough time to get a good feel of my aura. It’s your magic signature they’ll be looking for. Relax.” He smiled down at her as they began descending the uneven stairs (it was unknown whether there was ever a time in history when the elevator in this complex had actually functioned). “There’s nothing to worry about. Let’s just focus on having a good time today, alright?” He stopped her halfway down the flight so he could lift her over a broken step.

“Alright,” Nari promised. They made it to the lobby and burst into the sunlit street outside, the taste of freedom burning on the wood-nymph’s tongue like those carbonated drinks humans were so peculiarly fond of. The park wasn’t too far away, and Nari was still somewhat distrustful of automobiles, so they had opted to walk. She made sure to hold on to the edge of Douxie’s hoodie tightly so she wouldn’t accidentally lose him as her eyes wandered the cityscape, taking in the sights.

The first time she had walked the streets of New York City, Nari had been on the verge of tears. There were so many sensations assaulting her mind at once, the feeling of countless souls buzzing around, a crowd of spirits so thick that sometimes it felt like a wall. Even without tapping into her roots, she was drowning in a sea of tangling energies, as hundreds, even thousands of voices echoed in her soul all at once. It was more than she had ever experienced in one place before, and it had made her frantic with the desire to claw her way out of her own skin. The protective wards Douxie cast on their apartment helped filter out most of the magical noise, but it had taken several weeks of regular exposure before Nari was able to walk out in the open without clinging to Douxie’s hand so tightly that her nails left crescent marks on his fingers.

She had learned how to block out most of the noise now, and only felt the faintest twinge of anxiety as they joined the sea of bodies traversing the city. It helped that whatever spell Douxie had put on her was having a sort of swaddling effect on her aura. Her spirit felt comfortably nestled within her, not completely deaf to the world around her, but still separated from it in some way. She was even able to discern the individual life forces of the people around her, pick out who was emitting which charge. It was like a chaotic smear of colors had sharpened into a recognizable picture, one where she could finally see the finely drawn details and appreciate the contrasting shades.

Until suddenly, with a jolt in her stomach, she realized that one piece of the picture was missing entirely.

She and Douxie had stopped at a crosswalk, and were waiting for the signal, when her eyes drifted across the figure of a man, leaning against some brickwork near the turnoff into a smaller alleyway. He was fashionably dressed, (“business casual,” the humans called it), with an elegant black trench coat hanging nonchalantly off of his arm. He had dark brown hair, handsomely trimmed and styled, just a bit longer than Douxie’s, and was wearing a large pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. He looked thoroughly uninterested in the world around him, and had the appearance of someone who was waiting to meet up with a particularly tardy acquaintance. But Nari couldn’t sense that he was waiting. She couldn’t sense anything from this man. He emitted no life force, no aura or energy of any kind. He was like a standing, breathing corpse. Feeling oddly sick all of a sudden, Nari pressed closer to Douxie’s side and frantically tugged at his sleeve.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, the sound swallowed by the noise around him, though Nari was able to feel his intent through his aura.

“I-I am not sure. I felt...Well, actually I did not feel...” she stammered, unsure of how to communicate what had just happened. Across the street, the signal changed, and the people around them surged forward. Douxie glanced at the crosswalk and then back at her, a silent request for her to make this quick. Out of ideas, Nari pointed back to the space between two buildings a few feet away from them, hoping to bring his attention to the man in question.

Except, when she looked back, he was gone.

“...What is it?” Douxie reiterated, glancing between her and the alleyway in confusion.

“There was... There was a man there, just a moment ago. Except, he was not there. I-I could see him, but I could not feel him. He had no aura or life force.”

“Perhaps he was a spirit?” Archie suggested, speaking as quietly as he could so as not to draw attention to himself.

“No, I have seen spirits before. He was definitely a living human,” Nari objected. “But he....It was like he had no soul.”

Across the street, the crosswalk signal changed again. Beside her, Douxie’s aura was rippling with unease. But a moment later, his spirit stilled, and he put an arm around her to turn her away from the alley.

“...Whatever it was, we don’t know for sure that it was a threat. It was strange, yes, but I don’t think we need to worry about it just now. It might not have anything to do with us. Heck, it might’ve just been a trick of the light, or--”

“Douxie, I know what I saw,” Nari interrupted, putting as much force into her small voice as she could.

“--or it might have been something real,” Douxie amended, giving her an apologetic look. “But whatever it was, we don’t have any reason to be anxious about it. Not yet, and maybe not ever. Let’s just get to the park and have a good time, alright?”

Nari fell silent, and gave a reluctant nod. A minute later, the crosswalk signal changed once more, and they continued on their way. Though Douxie’s spirit was radiating a placid energy, Nari couldn’t help noticing that he kept his arm around her for the rest of the journey.

To be continued. ✨

[natsubeatsrock]

The Rewrite of Fairy Tail: Part 29 (Gajeel)

Should Gajeel be forgiven?

Some of you might be shocked that this is even a question I'm even addressing. I don't blame you. Gajeel is widely considered one of the best-written characters in the series. When people say that Laxus is the only character written better than you, you're in good company. (I say this as if I didn't already talk about him in this series.)

At the same time, there is a pretty vocal section of the fandom that still holds Gajeel's actions against him. They think the idea that he ended up with Levy is wrong. To be fair, I don't disagree with everything these people say. In fact, their critiques on Levy's character inspired me to make some changes I've already gone through in this series. 

Still, I've already committed myself to keep the ships that were canon by chapter 545 canon. And I've repeatedly called Gajevy the best of the Big 4 ships. I feel that I should at least make an argument (in this series) for why. To do that, I need to talk about Gajeel. (There may also be another post I need this to exist for.)

We all know what the issue with this ship is. Gajeel physically and emotionally hurt Levy, along with the rest of Shadow Gear. In some other series, this would be a pretty bad thing to expect. However, this carries a bit of extra weight in Fairy Tail. Not only is this the straw that breaks the camel's back for the fight between Fairy Tail and Phantom Lord. This runs directly against the established themes of the series: the importance of individual lives and the bonds between guild members.

I'm not sure that fans now recognize how truly scandalous Gajeel's entry into the guild really is. It's been so long that I can hardly blame fans. Gajeel is the kind of character that you'd expect to see as a constant antagonist or one-off major villain. When we see him as a guild member, it's almost shocking to think he isn't there to betray the members. We even got hints towards that direction as he was connected to Ivan.

However, time would reveal that this was a proper face-turn. Gajeel has joined the side of good and is invested in protecting Fairy Tail. We see this in Fantasia as he's shown to be working as a double agent with Raven Tail. We see this in his fights with Grimoire Heart. Gajeel has taken in the lessons of the Fairy Tail guild.

And then there's Levy.

She goes from visibly fearful of his presence in the guild to the mother of his kids. That's a pretty drastic change, even in over 400 chapters of material.  Much of Gajeel's evolution has been shown through his feelings and actions regarding Levy. He's protected her from harm in multiple arcs. He's been a support for her in situations she's needed it. He even outright confessed to her when he thought he was about to die. (Good old Mashima fakeouts.)

I could go on about how this is a good thing and how this works for the ship. But we're not here to recount the events. We're here to question the events themselves: Is it a good thing that Gajeel is redeemed at all, given what he has done?

I don't want to exercise the arguments regarding fiction affecting reality in this post. I dread any situation that I need to. That's not unrelated to this, but I want to talk about this from another angle.

Remember that a big thing about Fairy Tail is the relationships within its guild members. Gajeel presented a direct threat to those members during this time as a villain. It's not as if all he did was capture one of them, like Juvia. He destroyed the guildhall, beat up Shadow Gear, and tortured Lucy. (Versions differ how that last part goes.) It would be wrong for the series to sweep these actions under the rug and act like they don't matter.

Here's the thing, though. That's not what happens in Fairy Tail.

Gajeel's entire arc is structured around his past actions. Gajeel deeply regrets the things he did to Fairy Tail as a member of Phantom Lord. He didn't believe himself deserving of membership in the guild. We even see how he was told to change his ways before antagonizing Fairy Tail. From an old council member of all people.

Gajeel isn't let off scot-free. He still lives with the pain that he caused others. However, he's also worked to earn the trust of those around him. One of the first things we see him do as a Fairy Tail member? Take a beating from Shadow Gear and Laxus. He deserves every ounce of distrust and pain they send his way. No one should argue otherwise.

At the same time, is it really that outside of Fairy Tail's wheelhouse to give him a chance? Makarov says that he's allowing Gajeel to join even though he doesn't fully forgive him. His reasoning? He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't. The Phantom Lord arc exists because Fairy Tail cares about those willing to join. If he extends a hand out to Gajeel, it's a given that this is conditional on his change.

Thankfully, Gajeel takes the chance and runs with it. He goes from being someone who mocks the guild to one of its most ardent defenders. He's one of their representatives during the Grand Magic Games. Not to mention, he kept tabs on Laxus and the Thunder God Tribe during the second time skip.

And then there's Levy. Again.

Would the average person fall in love with someone who hurt and embarrassed them and their friends? Probably not.

Though, Fairy Tail is far from a guild full of "average" people. Consider that the average person in Fiore is unable to use magic, in the first place. The average mage would also probably stay clear of Fairy Tail. If you look at it that way, Fairy Tail is the kind of guild that would have someone like Levy.

This is a pretty cynical way to look at Gajevy. Let’s try this again.

As I said earlier, Gajeel's evolution is best shown in his relationship with Levy. Their relationship wouldn't be possible if the guild wasn't opening to its former enemies. It certainly wouldn't be possible if Gajeel was as bad as he was before joining the guild. Gajeel's transition from hero to villain is convincing enough that their relationship isn't as terrible as its critics portray it.

If I have anything to criticize the ship on, it would be the amount of time it takes for Gajevy to happen. A year and a half is a bit too little time to see this transition happen, by my estimation. For what it's worth, I have the first time skip to play with. As drastic as the transition may seem in canon, I have about six more years to play with the relationship.

Introduction | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19  | Part 20  | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

I was re-reading the whole story and I've noticed a lot of moments where zhan punched or slapped jian and no one called him abusive but when he tian did it to mo in the past he always got hate. The thing I love the most about tianshan is that they're relationship is not the typical one and not "rainbows and sunshine" but I wouldn't call it abusive either. Where did this double standard come from?

Good evening, dear anon-san!

I have talked about physical violence, comedy, and toxicity a couple of times. Here are some asks that I think could be related to your topic:

HT as the discipliner?

ZZX and violence in the beginning

Is Tianshan (still) toxic?

Is Tianshan toxic, vol. 2?

I might repeat myself a little but I don’t think I have compared Zhanyi and Tianshan this way before. At least not in so many words. Also, for this ask, I’m going to call punches, kicks, and slaps just physical violence. But please don’t jump to any conclusions. In each case, I will be giving it context, so “physical violence” doesn’t equal “toxic abuse”. It’s just easier if I have some kind of quick way to refer to whenever the boys kick, slap, or punch each other.

“Where did this double standard come from?”

I wouldn’t call either Zhanyi or Tianshan abusive but I do think physical violence is different in nature when it comes to the respective relationships. So, I do see why people treat it differently when ZZX kicks JY from when HT kicks MGS. Because they are different, although they both serve their own purposes.

Context is the key here. I don’t think you should call anything abusive or toxic without a proper context which is exactly what makes all the difference here. This is also partly why I don’t think Tianshan is toxic or abusive. If you separate the physical violence of both Zhanyi and Tianshan from their contexts, they become seemingly similar. A punch is a punch.

Let’s take a look at Zhanyi at first. The comedy in 19 Days (especially in the beginning) is largely based on slapstick comedy. A form of humor that strongly exaggerates physical violence (either accidental or intended). Literally, when someone gets slapped, it makes us laugh. You can see this kind of comedy a lot in cartoons, comics, and anime. It’s not “real” violence; it’s merely a comedic moment that doesn’t have longlasting effects.

Doesn’t that sound pretty much like Zhanyi? Usually, this kind of comedic physical violence is built on JY’s crush on ZZX and him not always being able to hold back while ZZX is the one with stricter boundaries. JY, being the oblivious airhead in love that he is, often ends up getting uncomfortably close to ZZX or making some kind of pass at him or otherwise gets on ZZX’s nerves. ZZX gets embarrassed, bothered or annoyed, and all of us wait for him to explode in 3…2…1… (ch. 1, 4-5, 9-13, 23-24, 29, 30-31, 34, 62, 73, 86, 88, 92, 106, 121, 129, 137, 171, 206, 247, 253):

Even listed like that, ZZX’s physically violent behavior starts to look kind of bad. But if you remember to read them as a part of their context their meaning shifts quite significantly. Prior to those slaps, punches or kicks, JY had:

touched ZZX’s personal stuff without permission

suddenly kissed him on the lips

refused to get up

destroyed ZZX’s precious stuff by being careless

drooled on ZZX’s shirt

suddenly gotten in ZZX’s face and startled him

tried to hold ZZX’s hand while drunk

been pushy with physical affection

practically made love to ZZX’s blanket

been overall an idiot

suggested they took a bath together to save water

squeezed ZZX’s butt

nearly toppled ZZX over

wiped his snotty nose on ZZX’s shirt

jumped him

suddenly wrapped his legs around ZZX’s waist and locked him in an awkward position on top of JY

tricked ZZX with a lollipop he had already sucked on

suddenly flashed his dick when ZZX wanted to have a serious talk

told something embarrassing about ZZX to someone

and finally ripped his jeans while trying to feel ZZX up.

When you put the physical violence in all of that context, it suddenly becomes something else than ZZX being abusive towards JY. Especially when you’re familiar with the characters, what kind of relationship they have, and 19 Days as a publication. So no, I wouldn’t call the physical violence in Zhanyi abusive or ZZX an abusive character. We realize the bruises, bumps and bloody noses are there for a laugh and they’re “healed” by the next panel.

Besides for the comic relief, ZZX also seems to get physical if JY had made him worry (ch. 179, 181, 198):

In a way, that fits Zhanyi as well. ZZX is the protector and JY the one who’s weaker and yet often careless and oblivious. Giving JY a hefty slap in the head is a way for ZZX to take his relief out on something. Could he do something else instead? Sure. But I don’t think that still makes him an abusive character. It’s just an exaggerated way to show how worried he is about JY.

As far as my interpretations go, there has been one occasion when the physical violence in Zhanyi got darker (ch. 141):

Usually, when JY makes a pass at ZZX, it’s lighthearted and comedic in nature. They could have been brushed off as jokes and JY just messing around. That kiss was different, though. In his panic-hazed bout of seizing the moment, JY did something he had wanted to do for years. It wasn’t a joke anymore, and his unrequited love was suddenly there for both of them to see. ZZX’s reaction was more than expected, but the violence was different in nature. He wasn’t comedically annoyed but shocked and upset. However, even this occasion doesn’t come across as “abusive” to me. Rather it was about something that had been simmering under the surface for a long time suddenly bursting out in the open, raw, vulnerable and potentially destructive. By ZZX seemingly reacting the same as always, it was cleverly demonstrated how it wasn’t the same at all.

Now, what about Tianshan? HT and Tianshan are often called abusive and toxic. Personally, I can see where people who think so are coming from even if I don’t interpret HT’s character and their relationship the same way. There is physical violence in Tianshan - there’s no denying that - but again, it’s the context that matters and gives it a purpose, so to speak.

Whereas physical violence in Zhanyi’s case was mainly about comic relief, in Tianshan’s case it’s often about two strong-willed personalities clashing (ch. 138, 160, 222):

Where ZZX slapping, punching or kicking JY is funny to us, HT’s character uses physical violence to overpower and dominate MGS. And it’s rather easy to call that kind of behavior abusive - but again, the nature of it shifts when put into its context.

HT had to use force to get through to MGS who was blinded by his suspicions and distrust due to bad past experiences. Neither of them was wrong and had reasons for acting the way they did. HT needed to assert control to turn MGS’s direction around and make him listen. MGS wasn’t going to yield to mere words, and while HT thought his stubbornness was good and showed he had principles, MGS was still not to ignore HT’s orders. HT took control by force, but I do think it was unavoidable and in a way helped to create a sense of security and trust. In some ways, HT acted like a parent and set strict boundaries for MGS. But again if you take all of that context away, HT’s behavior comes across quite darker and abusive.

Of course, it’s possible some people interpret the physical violence in Tianshan as abusive even in its context. And I can kind of see where those people are coming from even if I don’t personally read the story the same way. Even if in context, HT still clearly used physical force and didn’t give MGS an option. The thing is, though, I don’t really have a problem with HT behaving like he did. For the most part, I’m not bothered by HT being physically pushy or MGS more or less resisting him. It’s one of the things that appeals to me in Tianshan. And if their relationships became drastically different in that sense, I would find it quite out of character for them. However, that also means Tianshan is most probably always going to come across as abusive to some people.

To summarize, I don’t think either Zhanyi or Tianshan is abusive but the physical violence in them is different in nature. And that naturally results in people viewing the seemingly same acts differently. Some people don’t have a problem with physical violence when it comes to slapstick comedy (although, I have seen people calling ZZX abusive, too) but they do think HT’s kind of physical violence is different and actually abusive. Again, I don’t really agree about Tianshan but the “double standard” makes sense because they’re not the same.

In a way, “abusive” and “toxic” are in the eye of the beholder. And we all have different levels of tolerance for it before it starts to change our opinions about the fictional relationship. And I don’t have a problem with that - we all have our taste and what appeals to us personally. However, I’ve come to found out that when people are quick to cry “abusive” at every turn, the context is often forgotten or ignored altogether. The bigger picture. The question of “why is this happening this way?”. “Toxic” and “abusive” have become moral high horses of sorts to make people feel good about themselves and, if possible, to guilt-trip others in the process.

Thank you for your question, dear anon-san!

[lgvalenzuela]

45,34,30,15 and 2 for morgana and 13,8, and 29 for mercy pls ( I really love ur kids and ur art I swear I'll draw them one day) -scarlettroubles

This means a lot to me, I hope I can draw your kids too, they're fantastic 🥺🖤🖤🖤

Morgana

2. What house are they in and why do they belong there?

Morgana is a Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff hatstall actually, in her family on her mother's side most of them are hatstalls. It sure surprise people that she isn't a Hufflepuff, she is hard working, patient, fair, loyal and modest. But for her it was more about who she wanted to be instead of who she was, she is wise, creative, accepting and has a passion for learning, but also she thinks her intelligence and wisdom come from, funnily enough, her Hufflepuff traits, from her empathy and kindness.

15. Worst school subjects?

Catch Morgana crying because her parents are a professional Quidditch player and an Auror and the two things she can for the life of me do is fly and duel.

Listen, listen, you can drop out flying in year 2, but Morgana was so disastrous Hooch gave her a permit to drop out three months in so she wouldn't die.

Her other worst subject is DADA, she has a plan for everything so she has that going for her, but she is weak and she doesn't have time to plan for anything, also she gets particularly anxious in class surrounded by people, and that doesn't help.

30. What has been their biggest challenge at Hogwarts yet?

(Keeping Mercy and Damien alive)

The first time was in year 5, Morgana isn't strong like her friends (mood sis) but she cares a lot, and she is very smart so what she does to protect her friends is make a plan a, b, c and all the letters that are needed. But in year 5 Rakepik made all the plans, and expent the entire year gaslighting her making her seem useless, and unneeded. That carried on from the betrayal to the next year, where Damien was the angriest he'd ever been and not dealing with it well, Mercy transformed into a werewolf, and Rowan almost died (they're alive in my AU)

Rowan always helped her with the research, and Mercy and Damien always supported her, it started to feel like she was completely alone, and all this plus her already dealing with mental illness, she just had a complete breakdown, she passed out, out of seer exhaustion, she didn't want to let anyone in, her powers were out of control.

Barnaby had a very serious talk with her, where he made her deal with the fact that if she didn't take care of herself she couldn't take care of others, and she was as deserving of love and help as she believed everyone else to be.

34. What's their theme song?

Here!

(Also here in the romance department cause as a shamless shipper I can’t help myslef)

45. What quote best defines them?

“I shall pass through this world but once. Any good, therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again”

Stephen Grellet

Mercy

8. Is there anyone in Hogwarts they can't stand?

Oh dear, evryone thinks she’s a cinnamon roll because she surround herself with people she likes and the bitchy side doesn’t come out as much. Oh no, Mercy is distrustful, and if she doesn’t like you she’s not going to beat around the bush, she doesn’t have time for people she doesn’t like?

she actually had a pretty bad relationship with Rowan for a long time, until year 6, they’re very different and she kinda felt like they were forcing themleves into her life, trying to hard to be her best friend. Of course she hates Emily Tyler, but that’s an obvious. She does’t like Alanza much. Hope the guys that make gross comments about Morgana because she’s a pretty girl are ready for a fight cause she uses her fists more than her words.

And she doesn’t like some teachers, she doesn’t know why Binns is a teacher, she’d fight Trelawney for making her friends anxious, she doesn’t respect Dumbledore, and of course, the crown of the person she hates the most in the world goes to Snape, he treats his students like crap, he’s a bad person in general, and on top of that he knew her moter in Hogwarts and was directly responsible for her expulsion, so as his student, she decided to be the worst student possible for him (and set his cloak on fire whenever she can)

13. What are their talents? Mundane or magical

Cooking, specially sweets, her cookies are so good they make people cry

Animal rearing, although shes better with normal animals

Surviving in the wild, she knows a lot about herbology and nature

Dueling and fighting

Quidditch

29. What's their wand type? What does it symbolize about them?

Rowan wood

Abraxam feather

30 cm

Slightly yielding

Rowan wands generally produce powerful, hard to break Defensive charms. Rowan wands were also noted for its believed disassociation with the Dark arts. Perhaps for these reasons, Rowan has become associated with pure-hearted wizards, though Ollivander noted that Rowan wands can also match or even outperform others in duels.

Wands with an Abraxam feather core are more well suited for defensive magic, but for that, first you have to win it’s loyalty and tame it, which is not an easy task, maybe it’s because of that that they favor forceful and stubborn owners

Slightly yielding wands will initially resist new owners, but if the owner is persistent, it will warm up eventually. It is particularly good for animal-taming and defensive magic, although it may have a bit of difficulty with nonverbal magic. Wand owners with slightly yielding wands are often very kind and compassionate, but they may have some reluctance trusting others since they possess a strong sense of skepticism. It usually takes a lot of strong arguing before the owner of this wand will believe claims that don’t make any sense to them.

Mercy is a protector, sometimes annoyingly so, very overprotective when she’s at her worse. She’s a force to be wreckoned with, she solves most problems by punching them in the face, or if she hasn’t forgotten her wand, dueling them. She’s stubborn and dsitrustful of others, but extremly loyal and loving when she actually comes to like you.

[trashbinbackyard]

basics and environment for gilly and ipes

gals... one wholesome, one not so much

Basics:

1. What is their gender?

Female

Female

2. What is their sexuality?

Panromantic demisexual

Bisexual demiromantic

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

Gesiye Ikande, goes by Gilly a lot. Gesiye means genuine in Ijaw (ethnic group in Nigeria)

Her real name is Nayla Hahn Nayla being Arabic origin and Hahn Korean (her moms’ backgrounds) Though at this point no one knows her real name as she goes by Ipes which is a different spelling for a demon Ipos

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger?  Which sibling are they the closest with?

She has two younger sisters. She’s pretty close with both of them, but they live on earth so she sees them rarely

No siblings

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

She loves them but being the oldest sister she also kinda fell into that third parent role. She has a pretty big family as her parents also have multiple siblings, they spend holidays all together

She got emancipated at the age of 15 due to her parents not being able to care for her and she refused to enter any kind of foster system. She hasn’t talked to them since, assumes they’re dead

6. What would they give their life for?

Her family for sure

Honestly, nothing. No one comes even near being worth dying for. Neither is her business. If it ever came to it, she’d rather rot in prison than die for it

7. Are they in a romantic relationship? With who? How did they meet?

Mallory, met her at work. She wanted to wait to become more than just an investigator intern before starting anything but she’s smart and now she’s a fully fledged investigator

No, she has a strict no dating or banging your employees policy and since all the people she has respect for so far are her employees, there’s no one available. Also, she thinks pretty highly of herself so it’s gonna take work for someone be on the level she sees appropriate. (i myself am kinda curious where tf she and kenjiro are gonna end up) 

8. What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

She’s not religious, but does believe in some sort of good/bad place, she doesn’t really let it control her life and she tries to be good for the sake of being good (also, being mean is not nice)

No. And since she doesn’t fear life after death she feels free to do whatever the hell she likes

9. What is their favorite color? Favorite animal?

Purple. Any type of antelope, she thinks they’re neat

Black, surprise, but also really likes neon lights (you can guess what type of lights there are in her club). She likes snakes, especially black mambas

10. What are some of their talents/skills?

She’s very resourceful, quick thinking and good writer (of reports at least)

She knows how to read and push people, very conniving, and a great actor

11. If they could make a mark on history, what would they like it to be?

Idk, she’s just happy to be here

Woman has a drug empire right under law enforcement’s noses

12. How old are they? When is their birthday?

24-29 depending if time is pre-mallory vs relationship

35 (and both for them i really hate coming up with specific dates)

13. What do they do for fun?

Read, swim, enjoy coffee, cuddle with Mallory, watch animal videos

Gamble (she’s cheating), drink, have long ass baths, patrolling her club is work but she enjoys that part of her work a lot

14. What is their favorite food? How often do they get to eat it?

Something very spicy, veggies, she’s not a huge meat-eater

Due to her past drug abuse, most foods make her nauseous, so her fave is something light like fish

15. What was something their parents taught them?

Be kind and respectful, know your worth and do the dishes

Everyone is own their own

16. Are they religious?

No, spiritual, kinda

No

17. Where were they born?

Nigeria

Outer rim

18. What languages can they speak? Where did they learn these languages?

English and trade

Trade, whatever is the second biggest language on outer rim

19. What is their occupation?

Private investigator

Night club owner (that’s the side hustle to her drug business)

20. Do they have any titles? How did they earn them?

P.I, lots of school and getting a good internship

Word on the street is that she runs the biggest drug ring this side of rim, not officially though. Hard work and lots of blackmailing

Environment:

61. Which season is their favorite season?

Spring, lots of green, but not yet unbearably hot

Whenever her money comes in

62. Have they ever been betrayed? How did it affect their ability to trust others?

No, doubt she ever will, the bounty hunter (at least the citadel ones) are good people

Since birth honestly, whatever trust she had for her parents wilted away and now she won’t trust anyone unless they’ve proven themselves time and time again

63. What is always guaranteed to make them smile?

Animals, friends, the outdoors, she’s simple, just living the good life

Money, getting what she wants

64. Do they get cold easily? Do they get overheated easily?

She get cold more easily than too hot

Thanks to her metal leg all drastic changes in temperature are felt almost immediately

65. What’s their immune system like? Do they get sick often? How do they react to getting sick?

She’s got a pretty strong immune system. Doesn’t get sick that much

It’s pretty weak. She often gets flu when it’s the season

66. Where do they live? Do they like it there?

She lives in the citadel, has nice apartment there, she likes it lot

She has carved herself a place on the outer rim, it wasn’t exactly her dream but at this point there’s no place she’d rather be, has multiple apartments scattered around but her main one is on the top floor of her nightclub

67. Is their bedroom messy? What about their bathroom? Kitchen? Living room?

It’s somewhat messy, coffee cups and plates here and there, papers and journals scattered about, the whole house is like that

It’s super neat, she looks after herself. Her suite doesn’t even have a kitchen because she gets her food from the club kitchen

68. How did their environment growing up affect their personality?

Her parents influenced her a lot, she turned out good

Coming from two addicts, becoming one herself and generally being distrustful... 

69. How did the people in their environment growing up affect their personality?

Wait i thought the previous one was the same question abbgöreghaeh

70. How do they feel about animals? Do they have any pets?

Love them! No time for one tho, if she had it’s be a cat

On that note.. I think she has a pet snake in her suite, its got a huge terrarium for it

71. How are they with children? Do they have any? Do they want any?

Love them, she’s good with them, she’s definitely the fun big cousin for her small relatives. Doesn’t have any but might want one? She feels she’s too young still

She doesn’t hate them but would rather no kids see her, ever. Doesn’t have any, doesn’t want any

72.  Would they rather have stability or comfort?

i mean.... with stability comes comfort. But she’d choose comfort

Stability, life is already one big uncomfort for her to begin with

73. Do they prefer the indoors or outdoors?

Outdoors

Indoors

74. What weather is their favorite? Do they like storms?

Sunny for sure, storms are nice when you’re inside and in a secure place

Loves rain and storms, they also make ppl gather inside more

75. If given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

She’d doodle, they’re not great but i’m Mallory would love whatever she’d draw

If something, she’d draw a middle finger for investigators to find

76. How organized are they?

She keeps her work very neat and packed, everything else, not so much

Very much so, everything is neat and organized and hidden away, that’s key to getting away with doing what she does

77. What is their most prized possession?

Her badge, or a stuffed animal from her home

A single memory card contains mountains of excel sheets, it’s either always on the move and hidden or locked away, never in the same place for longer than a week

78. Who do they consider to be their best friend?

Mallory, she’s sappy like that

Juicebox comes the closest

79. What is their economic situation?

She’s comfortable, not super rich but not going from paycheck to paycheck either

Oh she’s loaded

80. Are they a morning person or a night owl?

Night owl

All the best stuff happens at night in her opinion

[bluewatsons]

Katie Lew, The Unproven Body, The New Inquiry (October 13, 2016)

Charting the losses of contestable sickness

ILLNESS is a state of the body that demands testing.

April 26th: Self-testing/Reality-checking

I woke up one spring morning with vertigo. I turned my head to the window and nearly got sick on my pillow. I was 33. It is common for the newly vertiginous to distrust their perception of motion because vertigo is uncanny. The world is familiar, and yet the known spaces of your life (your room, your street, your workplace) are uninhabitable, because they are moving. Thus, the first round of testing is a self-directed series of questions: Did that happen? Did the room turn with me? (Yes; yes and no). This second answer with its relative “yes and no” is the pivotal point of the vertiginous person’s relation to their life and to the world. Because the room turned for me, but not for my partner next to me, I would have to see a doctor. And because every space continued to turn for me wherever I went, I would have to change my relation to the world, as regards what I could expect from it and it from me. Could I expect rest? food? comfort? Could the world expect adherence to its metered and measured environment? Independence? Labor? Seemingly esoteric questions critical to daily exigencies: could I eat, and could I work?

(I said the spaces of my life became uninhabitable; I continued to live in them because I continued to live but for a time in a way that felt like a lonely death. No one can follow you into vertigo, or into any sickness for that matter.)

May 1st: Wild Rose Vestibular Rehabilitation and Audiology Clinic

The first symptoms of my illness were tinnitus, hyperacusis (a rare condition of hearing sounds at painful volumes), and vertigo, and so Google told me my problem was otological (a word that autocorrects to ontological, which also feels appropriate). There are several ear conditions that cause spinning, which specialists can identify by tracking nystagmus, the abnormal beating of eyes as they follow objects. My mother took me to a vestibular therapist. I entered the clinic staggering, my arms reaching out in front of me for any wall, or chair, or countertop, to let me know where I was in the organized space of the room. A zombie in a vertigo nightmare. The therapist was surprised at my state. In medicine, you never want to look like something no one has ever seen before, something beyond evaluation that will not fit within the known universe of legible maladies and, especially, remedies.

The vestibular test involved opaque goggles that project the eyes on two TV screens. I cried in protest at the darkness that I knew would accelerate the spinning. I reached my hand to hold the therapist’s arm — uninvited skin on a stranger’s skin. She looked at my mother and my mother at her; which of them could explain my excess? Or this breach of social boundaries? Then I went and laid my head in the stranger’s lap. She said: “Listen to me. I once had vertigo too. And guess what? Last weekend I went skiing with my husband and my kids.” I wanted to throw up. But I allowed the darkness of the goggles because even that kind of alright-ness was desirable. The site behind the drawn curtain of the medical cubical was one of uneasy conjunction: all of those measuring apparatuses, and every space between them saturated with fear. When she fit the goggles to my face, I caught a glimpse of the left TV, there a giant eye flitted like a cornered animal, and I recognized my own horror.

(I was incapable of thought then, but remembering it now I think of Anne Boyer: “This is the problem of what-to-do-with-the-information-that-is-feeling.”)

“Her eye movements are irregular but not in a recognizable way. I’m not even sure if the distortion is coming from her ears or her brain.” — a vestibular specialist.

The body that refuses the parameters of the medical test is an unlucky body. Especially because it means more, even unlimited, testing, more encounters with non-recognition, further alienation. But also because sadness, fear, and desperation are considered interference in clinical testing, and these emotions increase the longer a diagnosis is deferred. Affect is surplus without value.

There are several tests that every first-year medical student can use, and with fair accuracy, to determine the presence of a neurological disturbance in a patient. They are the finger-to-nose test, the heel-down-the-shin test, and the follow-the-pen test. There are non-invasive tests that will reveal with more precision the location of that neurological disturbance: the computerized axial topography scan, which can detect brain swelling and hemorrhaging, and the magnetic resonance image, which will light up tumors and lesions. There are invasive diagnostic tests that can more narrowly decide the cause and nature of a tumor or lesion: the lumbar puncture, which collects a sample of cerebrospinal fluid, and the biopsy, which extracts tissue for microscopic investigation. If the tumor or lesion is too deep for biopsy, such that a biopsy would cause damage to the brain, then there is one final test, non-invasive and barely medical, and that is time.

(I used to say damn it some one must tell me what is happening to me. I used to call sickness up to my every measurable surface with the incantation: Show yourself.)

May 9th: Medical Imaging Department, University of Alberta Hospital Multiplanar, multisequential MRI of brain with and without IV contrast

FINDINGS: T2/FLAIR bright lesion in the right middle cerebellar peduncle measuring 1.3 x 1.0 cm.

A lesion is any localized abnormality found on the body. Lesions are not particular to a disease or condition: they signal a structural difference from healthy tissue, nerves, etc. My lesion is in my brain, on my cerebellum. My lesion is too deep for biopsy. After this MRI, my diagnosis was brain cancer with a differential of multiple sclerosis.

Following some diagnoses, sadness, fear, and desperation continue to increase. For the moment, the doctor’s work is done, and emotions unfold in private interiors, among you and others near you, where they disrupt no one but yourself and these others near you. I tried to move around my home the way I had the day before. I tried to move as if I could feel the floor beneath me, and as if I could breathe that easy breath of the continuous life.

May 17th: Diagnostic Imaging, St. Mary’s Hospital MRI HEAD C-\

FINDINGS: solitary lesion in right middle cerebellar peduncle, could represent a demyelinating plaque.

Demyelinating plaques are the scleroses of multiple sclerosis, areas where the protective myelin that encases nerves is stripped away. After this MRI, my diagnosis was tentatively multiple sclerosis. Finding out that brain cancer is a misdiagnosis is at once a relief and a terror. The razor edge of life newly-granted balances just on the other side of a gaping death. How to live when you know how easy it is to die? It was not so much a misdiagnosis as a difference of opinion. The lesion in my brain is hunkered down deep, unavailable for biopsy, and so, in itself, gives no more information than the fact of its existence. Doctors have argued right in front of me, before a screen of my brain, the points for and against both tumor and plaque. (Some illnesses submit only to that final test, time).

“This is a difficult case.” — my neurologist.

I wanted an etiology. Diagnostics and prognostics are future-orientated projects, optimistic in form if not in content. I wanted that dire course of my recent past, the charted points of my specific failure. I wanted an etiology general to the type of neurological event I experienced, but also specific to my personal life. What had my body done to itself? And when, exactly? What time was it when those changes in my brain became irrevocable? (When I fell sideways up the stairs on Tuesday? When I hugged the lap of a vestibular therapist instead of going to the ER?). There are no tests that can identify these moments, and these are not in fact medical questions. They are the existential crisis and the abjection of feeling, and then seeking, the fracture-line of meaning in a life.

(For a long time, I didn’t let myself remember anything from before. I stored a lifetime in the orbital bone around my right eye. The skin there became painful to the touch. This is the pain of non-recognition, I told myself. And it was.)

“The real question is, what will this look like in your life, practically speaking.” — my insurance adjuster.

“MS is just a word, it doesn’t change who you are.” — a different neurologist.

I disagree. But this is the nexus of insurance pragmatism (who you are is the same as what you can do), and brash medical optimism (illness affects what you can do only in so far as you let it).

While diagnostics are the test of illness, function is actually its truer measure. How much will you lose? What can you expect to be able to do around the house? At work? In the bathroom? And with what good humor, what positive attitude, will you confront the losses? For every functional loss, the medical industrial complex offers a mechanical, technological, pharmaceutical aid to replicate the function, which insurance adopts and identifies as the means of labor in illness. The sick person is responsible for availing herself of all of these accommodations. I have a bar in my shower so I don’t break my neck when I close my eyes. And that is about all the accommodation available to me. Yet the promise of medicine and the expectation of insurance is that I will find a way to reproduce all my functions, and myself.

(As if I could sit right back into myself. As if a self was an armchair. As if I wasn’t recast anew by illness. As if I had it all save for these isolated deficits.)

An insured body is a body that demands evidence.

My losses are both difficult to measure and to accommodate: chronic fatigue, chronic headaches, motion sickness, poor balance, tinnitus, hyperacusis, sadness, nostalgia, anger. The latter three are not in relation to loss of function. They hover over the outrages that are: the inexplicable, the past, and the eternal subject position of patient. The former kept me out of work, and qualified me, for a while, to a partial salary replacement through my work’s insurance plan.

The discourse of insurance shares interests with the discourse of medical testing: it is concerned with naming (secular baptisms), with categories, and with function, but insurance has fewer classifications — payable and non-payable conditions — and is interested only in function insofar as it relates to labor, and labor to paid work. Where medicine seeks results, positive proof, by which to name, authenticate, and file illness, insurance seeks negations. The first principle of insurance is the de-authentication of bodies, and the discovery of function where there is no health.

“How long can you keep your head up unassisted? How long can you read a screen before becoming nauseated? Have you attended acupuncture for the recommended 6 months?” — my insurance adjuster.

Insurance banks on the wellness industry’s persuasive, and now fully internalized, imperative to maintain ourselves, to somehow counter deficits in function that are medical, social, or economic. (Wellness is a leveler). It says: supplement yourself until your awkward and angular disability becomes streamlined quick-stepping ability; until, in spite of your age, illness, children, or finances, you are as able as a young god who has never been sick or poor or pregnant or faltering, or any age but twenty or any color but golden.

Health insurance is a fitting figure for the neoliberal relation between wellness and money. The obvious relation between the two is that diligently minding your health will keep you well enough to stay in paid work, or to keep looking for paid work. But the lens of insurance tightens focus on the actual obligation to self-care as an act of compliance in this exchange. To receive benefits, the sick have constantly to prove their dedication to health, their sense of their own responsibility for recovery, to earn the insurance money they actually need to survive. It is too easy to forget that whatever compensation we get, either private or state, we have agreed to pay for in one way or another. We have bought it like every other thing.

Because it functions as part of the service economy, insurance is in the business of selling lifestyles. But insurance doesn’t pay the sick in health, if it pays at all. Because the product is money, insurance effectively sells the material ability to sustain your life, the lifestyle of being alive. The emails from the insurance adjuster were full of resources: organizations and websites dedicated to the management of diet, sleep, pain, relationships, stress, and general outlook on life. They recommend supplements, meditation, stretching, and saying yes to social engagements. It is a deft slight of hand; insurance’s identity as pure finance (money making money) is obfuscated, and self-care replaces money as the means of survival.

(Don’t weary of supplementing, of fighting, of therapy. Don’t let on that your one desire is not to reenter the competition.)

The adjuster gets a bonus when she helps someone get back on her feet. She was eager to find a diagnosis for me that fit within the company’s regulations of non-payable conditions (any condition with qualitative effects; any condition in which a measure of ability remains). And because I myself was in the fading twilight of believing that knowing more could mean feeling less, I went to a neurotology clinic in Toronto for a last round of testing.

August 12th: Hearing and Balance Centre, St. Michaels Hospital

The neurologist in Toronto sits me on a swivel chair before a room of medical interns. This one is a test for all of us. I stretch out my arms and look at my thumbs. He spins my chair.

“Eye movement normal or abnormal?” “Abnormal!” “Disturbance from ear or brain?” “Brain!”

We all pass. But abnormal brain is not a diagnosis, nor is it new information. I undergo seven more tests, the data from which yet again evade a secure diagnosis but confirm the following: “The patient has a demyelinating plaque that involves the function of her cerebellum, which is readily evident in both her neurological history and the appropriate abnormalities on her neurological examination.”

My last visit is with a psychologist. I answer a questionnaire:

Do you ever think about past instances of vertigo and feel fear? Yes. How often do you worry about your vertigo returning? Fairly often. Do you feel anxious talking or thinking about vertigo? Yes. Very.

I begin to cry, not like me, but maybe like I did as a child. The psychologist looks at me and I see I have become an informer for the wrong side. My affective response is not appropriate to the questionnaire. I drop tears on it. My face is hot and red above it. My body is full of the wrong kind of information. Not data. Not paper print out. The typed questions before me should not elicit this much sadness. It is the sadness of memory, the sadness of waiting, the sadness of testing, the sadness of never knowing. It is the sadness of illness.

The psychologist writes a prescription. “I want you to take this every day, in increasing doses until you feel one hundred percent better. Don’t stop increasing until you forget that any of this ever happened to you. Until you forget the word vertigo altogether.” His reaction to me is remarkable for a few reasons. He asked me no questions related to sadness and made a diagnosis based on the sight of my crying. But while paying attention to only my body’s visible reaction to the questionnaire, he also forgot my body. Chronic is that which continues. In this instance he has forgotten my lesion and its daily symptoms. I will never forget that this has happened to me, because it continues, returns, flares and eases and flares again. But his advice also relates to function. He thinks I am too sad to function, as if memory (which shares a certain form of repetition with the chronic) is keeping me from “living my life.”

(Why say, I won’t let this change me? Why not say, this is a small death? There are many deaths before the end.)

Two months after this, I lose my insurance on the grounds of an “unmanaged psychiatric illness.” The immeasurable and qualitative displays of affect that once obstructed the object of medical investigation become themselves the object, and finally the primary diagnosis, when run through the metrics of insurance. Losing health insurance to an unnamed mental state is a gothic, a spectral, a gnostic kind of sexism. Hysteria, nervousness, sadness. Neurological exams and MRIs — literal pictures of illness — are nothing against these feminized monoliths. I didn’t see it coming. Because the front end, the interface, of insurance operates as customer-service, my insurance adjuster never let on that she was gathering information for anything more than helping my case, finding me resources, keeping me covered. She called me by name. She called me at home. Insurance is the long con.

What is insurance but an incorporated wager against you?

It sounds counterintuitive; insurance always assumes the lesser risk. But the lesser risk is not illness — the lesser risk is the contestable data of illness. A dismissal such as mine comes down to an easy gamble that has little to do with health, or even function: What does she have in her hand? Is it enough to overturn this ordinance?

(I lost the same game we are all losing.)

I can say that after everything I still don’t know what happened to me or what will happen. I know less about my body than ever. All that data, all those tests, all of my own Googling, and I will still never know if I am doing the right thing. I don’t know if I’m doing the right exercises, or eating the right foods. I don’t know if I bought the right shoes or painkiller or pillow. I don’t know. I don’t ask anymore either. With the lesion came an initial threat of cancer and death, and then the differential of multiple sclerosis and the prospect of immobility. For now, in that final and enduring test (time), I live beside, or within, or along a set of chronic symptoms, which, gathered together, have no medical precision, but exist in my body as the residuals of a neurological event that is either ongoing or not; that will either repeat itself or not; that will either kill me one day or not. I’ve spent the interim attending to losses not physical. Opening that safe of memory around my right orbital bone and letting out old bits now and then to look at, from a great distance.

[bangtanficrecs]

Lost & Found Batch #19

Can’t start up the blog again without posting the newest batch! As always, if you happen to know the fic the ask is looking for, reply to this post or send us an ask with the request number and title/author. If you happen to know any fics from Past Batches, those are more than welcome as well. Thank you!! ~ Admin P

1)  There are werewolves and hunters. Jungkook and his dad are hunters. The rest of BTS are like a pack. The people close to Kook and his dad Is VIXX 95% sure. Hunters have jobs like police and Kook started his job. Meet Jin who works in the morgue also meets v. Accidently finds out jin is a Wolf. Jin dosent come in for work. Meets V again eventually falls for him. Dad locks him in his room. Escapes from window to save the other BTS. His dad shoots him making VIXX distrust his dad. VKook/Ao3

I'm only human (after all) by Lalaithwen

2)  Hi! I want to ask if you know this fic. The members where assassins or something? And they were separated into groups with OCs or other idols. There were three people in a group with a person from rach classification. One of the classifications was named epsilon(?) Like I think the classifications were based on eyesight, accuracy, and intellect. I would really love if you find this!

3) Hello! I have lost a fic I was reading. It is a mafia au with supernatural elements where suga is the boss and rest is working for him and jimin was a succubus working in his brothel and then he was a witness suga was protecting him in his apartment so its mainly yoonmin and taekook was a side pairing. It was a long and chaptered fic and was soo good. had bunc of other kpop characters. Can you please help me find it thank you so much 😊 🙏🏻

浮世 U K I Y O by Sharleena

4) hi loves ♡ I'm hoping you could help me find a fic? it's basically namjoon/everyone but each chapter is a different storyline with a different pairing. in each story namjoon is homeless or really really poor and the member in that chapter helps him and they fall in love. and joon is always rlly bad at his jobs. one chap I remember was with hobi and he owned a dance studio that joon worked at and joon started sleeping in hobis office ^°^ hope you can help find it ~

Phosphenes by CynoDemure

5) Hi, I’ve been trying to find a fix where Taehyung isn’t a part of BTS, but suddenly they respond to his tweet and shit goes down and they offer him a ticket to tour and room with them. Tae is a YouTuber or has a channel and he lives in a really nice apartment and blasts BTS music to the point where someone comes up and yells at him? I think that happens, and BTS watch his videos. It’s on AO3. If you do find it then thank you so much.

Perfection by orphan_account

6) Hi hi! I was trying to find a fic. I think yoongi had gotten a tattoo and it was of a tiger?? And I think kookie was the artist??? That's all I remember sadly :<

watercolor by TheHalesNyx

7) Hi! I'm looking for a fic I lost track of a while ago. It was Namkook, & what I remember is that they didn't get along bc NJ makes JK feel inferior, but ot7 go on a trip & they end up rooming together. They all get drunk, & NJ ends up offering at some point to have sex with JK. It was ongoing, & the last part I remember is JK going off on NJ & walking onto the balcony & NJ follows. Super vague & probably unhelpful but does anyone know?? Any help is appreciated please & thank you!! ♡

8) Hi! Can you help me find a story?? I’m looking for a story where Jungkook moves into an apartment building where the rest of BTS lives after leaving a traditional family, might have been ABO. He meets taehyung and eventually lives with the rest of them, I remember that two of the members adopt two children and jungkook accidentally gives one of them food they’re allergic too. Thank you for the help!

dust by lotuschae (orphan_account)

9) Hi! I'm hoping you guys could help me find a fic? i'm looking for a taekook fic where they meet again at an event and taehyung didn't expect jungkook to present as an alpha. in the fic mates mark each others with scars and jungkook still has the scar that tae gave him when they were young (tae didn't have a scar cos they got scared from the blood). In the fic jimin is an alpha and the very start of the fic was vmin rushing to the event cos they fell asleep.  [cont] seokjin and namjoon are betas in the fic if i remember correctly. Also, i'm not sure if this is the same fic but jk set suga's contact image as yoonji and when he bumped into taehyung and jimin at the market yoongi called him to ask him to hurry and jimin saw the contact photo and was interested lol so he asked jk for yoongi's number thinking he was a girl. When tae and jm go to jk's dance studio he sees yoongi there with jk and thought they were twins lol. [cont] SORRY FOR SENDING SO MANY MESSAGES but i would be really grateful if you guys knew which fic (might be separate fics?) i'm looking for. I've tried searching tags and scrolling through my history but i couldn't find anything :( thank you so much in advance and sorry for spamming your inbox :')

10) Hello! I'm looking for a fic I read last year. It's a Namgi that I think is set in college. I don't remember much but it has a scene where Namjoon is getting beat up in a locker room/gym at high school and Yoongi finds him because he's going to basketball practice. Yoongi runs to get the principal and the bullies get expelled. Namjoon tells Yoongi/he figures out, that Namjoon planned it to get the bullies expelled. It's a how-they-met story. I think Yoongi was class president too. Thank you! :)

11) I looked through you tags and tried to find it on ao3 too but I can’t :( can you help,,,, it’s a junghope where (I think) Jungguk is having a hard time in college and Hoseok is like “hey make a bucket list of things you want to do” and so they do and then find feeling along the way. I very specifically remember two of the items on the list,, 1) riding a Segway 2) being fucked against a wall Thank you!!!❤️❤️

12)  Hi! I've been looking for a 1 (or 2) chapter jikook fic. Jimin recently broke up with an asshole. Jungkook works at some kind of gun range/shooting place. JM is convinced to take a class there, and JK asks him on a date. After the date, JM never calls JK, and it upsets JK because he feels like he was led on. Actually, JM's ex had been bugging him and emotionally abusing JM into thinking he wasn't good enough. In the end, JM explains it, and jikook get together. Thank you for your help!

13)  Hi, I'm looking for a age swap fic where the members wake up with their ages swapped. I remember the first one was Jimin and Jungkook waking up with their ages swapped, and then after that it was Yoongi and Taehyung, and then they would eventually forget that they weren't actually that age, and the other members were the only ones who knew that they weren't actually that age. Also there was Taekook (I think). Can anyone help me find this fic? Thanks

im not gonna call you hyung by aprofessorstale

14)  Hi! Could you please help me find a fic? I read this awhile ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s a Yoonseok fic where Yoongi and Hobi got into a fight because I think Yoongi had a soft spot for Jimin and tried comforting him and Hobi was jealous or so. They decided to take a break from the relationship and all of the members urged them to talk it out but they were stubborn not to. Also Jimin and Yoongi were never dating. I’m sorry if it’s vague and not making any sense.

15)  Hey! Looking for this Jikook fic where they're both sons from rival companies but have been in a sexual relationship since boarding school? Can't remember the name. Thanks!

All Your Glory by eumorious

16)  Hi I'm not sure if you can help me find this since it's a smau and now a fic. Its jikook, hs. I think jm is rich and jk is a hockey player or something. But jm likes tae and asks jk to teach him how to do sexual stuff but also fake dates him and they end up real dating.

17) Hello, I've been searching for this one fic on AO3 where Jimin gets betrayed/stabbed? by Taehyung. Taehyung seemed to be really skittish and was freaking Jimin out. I also know Jungkook ends up marrying a detective? If you guys don't know it's okay!

18)  Hi! I’ve been looking for this one fic- I think it was Yoongi/Hoseok/Jungkook? And Yoongi was a tattoo artist along with another kpop singer (not BTS). I also remember at some point Yoongi gets a birthday cupcake that says “Hyung loves you” and he ends up attempting suicide too? Thanks for any help! 😭

Pati by signifying_nothing Note: The fic is locked and requires an AO3 account to view

19)  For the love of my sanity please please help me find this fic. Its taekook, bottom kook top Tae. Its either a two part chapter fic or two part serious. The first part I belive is a fic where taehyung does freaky ass shit to Jungkook so in the next part, jungkook gets revange on Tae. But more importantly, the second part features Taehyung being hand cuffed to the bed, and Jungkook is teasing him. Taehyung is very dom and frustrated at his sub. (A03) Thank you

Things To Do Before You Die by SevenSoulmates Note: The fic is locked and requires an AO3 account to view

20) I'm not sure if this account is still alive, but I'll give it a try. I'm looking for a bangtan fic where one of them lost his pregnant wife and after her funeral he went to the bar. He got drunk and got into one night stand and that person got pregnant. I don't remember the paring, but Jungkook might be one of them. I'm sorry for my English.

21)  hello! im looking for a series of one shots all in the same universe, its ot7 smut and was on ao3, with i believe 60+ parts? and it had hoseok as straight in the first few parts. ive been looking for ages but cant find it 😭

[immcterial-blog]

( harry styles. twenty-three. cis male. he/him. ) ❛ avriel sinclair, a capricorn from new york, new york, moved into holloway one month ago. they are a ballroom dancer that lives in apartment 1e and their neighbors don’t particularly mind them. some say they can be -Machiavellian and -disarming but others say they’re +opportunistic and +debonair. anyways, one thing is for sure: you hear death of a bachelor by panic at the disco, it’s avi blasting it. ( penned by celia, 24, cst. )

this gif... perfectly describes avi -- i don’t even have to write this intro just look at that gif and you’ll know what a (well dressed) piece of shit he is!!! but i suppose for the sake of matching my past intros i should actually.... try.

BACKSTORY !!! 

this is avriel. he’s probably like avriel sinclair the third but his family and him are fighting right now so he wouldn’t want to mention that part and associate himself with the sinclair name.

which, speaking of... the sinclairs are new york natives and the kind of socialite famous that have a ton of money but not much notoriety for anything besides just being rich

he’s got an older half brother (auguste) that his mom had before she married into money and he’s the only one in his family that he’s never had problems with which is amazing for avi.

the thing is though none of his family are bad people. his mom’s a total sweetheart and his father, although really stinking wealthy, is like legit a good person and probably gives tons to charity and stuff. they’re wholesome and married for love which is saying a lot considering the financial sitch

no, the only one causing problems for avriel is... avriel

it’s kind of an ‘idle mind is the devil's playground’ sort of deal

avi has always been bright. like extraordinarily clever. to the point where he’s constantly just bored. he’d play tricks on auguste and on the care providers they had as children. he’d sabotage board meetings of his fathers and make sly jabs at important family members at galas and things. it was never anything outright -- never anything that could be traced back to him unless you knew where to look

auguste, bless him, knew how his little bro worked and also knew that avi needed a hobby or else the kid was going to overturn the whole upper east side before he was even in high school. he tried him at a whole heap of skills and talents but ended up finding a passion for two things: classical piano and ballroom dance. 

some part of it appealed to avi’s natural knack for sophistication. it’s a very classy and pristine past time. there was also an element to learning -- memorizing sequences and step combos and exploring different things with different partners. 

that soothed him for a few years. from like 9 - 13 years old he was a baby learning ballroom dance and he loved it. then puberty hit and a whole slew of new trouble-making ways opened themselves up to him. 

it was somewhere after he got his private tutor to quit because he convinced her she was in love with him and it was compromising her employment that they decided a change of scenery might do him good. 

avi was sent to some pretentious french school in paris and enrolled in a vigorous after school dance programme to try and keep him busy. instead, he managed to find a boyfriend. it was a very passionate and all encompassing relationship with avi focusing all his intensity on this one person. that ended up (unsurprisingly) not being too healthy for poor max.

while it was technically avi’s first real relationship, he had practice with people in general. he was able to smooth talk his way squarely into his beau’s heart, lodging himself there with a permanence he didn’t intend to make a reality.

avi is the type of boyfriend who like makes you feel like the most important person in the whole world when you're with him but then makes you wonder what he's up to when he's away

he acts on impulses and gets bored easily and so schemes and manipulates to keep his own life entertaining. he’ll start spreading lies about himself to upturn all his friendships and relationships, just to see what happens! it’s annoyingly unpredictable. 

anyways, this is already long so we’re shortening but the last few months of his relationship & his time in france he cheated and basically ghosted his poor lil beau maxxie and then slid back to the states at like 19 like nothing happened. 

RECENT & PERSONALITY ( READ THIS IF NOTHING ELSE )

once home, he was on his same old shit and though he did take school a bit more seriously & definitely excelled at his dance (thanks france), that was about the only thing he gained from that whole experience. oh and he started dating around in earnest. never for more than a few months at a time (so max was special that way) and always ending messily. its more fun that way! 

he started entering ballroom expos and circuits. he was known never to have the same partner for more than a season but he still took top tier prizes. all the girls were clamoring to be on the arm of avi sinclair and he was thriving

his penchant for scandal was also thriving. he had pregnancy scares, lascivious relationships with important business heads, caused at least one divorce and there were whisperings that he was going to start taking down his father’s company from the inside, just for the hell of it (it wasn’t true -- avi started that rumor tho)

when the headlines just wouldn’t stop... his parents really didn’t have a choice but send him out on his own, out of the sinclair penthouse. they set him on a strict allowance but he’s facing the threat of being disowned. auguste may be in line to inherit the company but there’s still a lot at stake

so ! that’s how avi has found himself at hoelloway. he’s a rich boy living a budget lifestyle. any winnings his ballroom dance is making him he counts as his spending money and he uses it frivolously and recklessly. 

personality wise, he’s just here for a good time not a long time. he’ll worm his way into your good graces with bad intentions. people wouldn’t be outright distrustful of him. in fact, it’d be the opposite. he’s all ‘classy dressed ballroom boy with a glittering grin’ but we know he’s a SNAKE AND SHOULD BE AVOIDED

he’d like to sign up to join the hoe squad so gimme hookup plots i’ll pay u in harry gifs

also if ur character is close enough to max to hear about his bad ex.... hmu for angst

i’ll get myself some plots pages eventually AND add him to my actual blog but for now.... avi is loosed on the world i’m so sorry

[ts-virgil-angst]

Story prompt of an old woman, and war and a fireplace

TW: none that i can think of just message me 

Word Count: 1591

Prompt: Alcohol changes everything. Even love.

Note: this takes place in a fantasy like world and if you need an explanations hmu

Logan and his sibling had been travelling for longer than he could remember.They had been running for so long, too long. As the winter had set in, thewar had followed. Logan remembered the slow way the soldiers came vividly. Theway the stores got shut down one by one. How the streets slowly becamedeserted. When the mornings became something to dread instead of something tolook forward to.

He remembered the day their parents were killed infront of him, how Patton had cried silently as Logan kept his hand clapped overtheir mouth to keep the sound.

Now, the two of them were walking east. He had heardof a haven for people like them. For kids without parents. And for magic usersthem.

“Logan?” Patton tightened their hold on Logan’sshoulders, as Logan readjusted them on his back. “Are we almost there?”

“We’re close, Patton.” Logan huffed, his breathcoming out in a puff of smoke. He wasn’t actually sure how close they were. He was going on a hunch after all. He couldn’tbe sure that there even was a haven after all, but that hope was the only thingkeeping him going.

There had to be something, though. There had to be. Magic users weren’t weak andfor the most part they were smart. Before the war, they had been ordinary citizens,most of which used their magic to help others. Like Kanikós, normal humans, there were goodand bad Gifted—it truly just depended on the person. But now…

A rustle to his right cut his train of thoughtshort. His heartbeat shot out of his chest as he slowed moving the side of the path,setting down Patton. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good news in the forest thislate at night.

Two men on horses slowed down next to them, gunsdrawn.

“The hell are you two doing out here?”

“Our home was burned down in a raid a few nights ago.We’re on our way to our cousins house.” Logan kept his eyes to the ground,careful not to look him in the eyes. Lawmen saw that as disrespectful and hecouldn’t risk them accidently glowing. His story wasn’t a total lie. Their housedid get burned down, but only after Lawmen killed their parents.

“I’m sure.” The one on the bigger horse dismounted, bootskicking up dust as he landed. “Eyes up boy.” Logan’s gaze flickered up for amoment, taking in the man’s face, clothes, his partner, the trees around them. Ithad taken time to be able to do this, but with the practice of being on therun, taking in his surroundings was nothing he wasn’t used to now.

The man shuffled his feet, taking a stronger stance.“I said: eyes up boy.”

Patton tightened their grip on Logan’s legs, shufflingtheir feet before looking up.

Two things happened as Patton looked up: the secondman dropped from his horse and Logan dropped, placing his hands flat on theground. His eyes glowed green as the earth opened up, dropping the two men intoa new hole in the ground. As an Earthen, he had a certain sway over the earth. Shewas happy to help any of her children and right now, Logan needed all the helphe could get.

As they fell, the Lawmen’s guns went off, clipping Patton’sshoulder. Patton’s eyes welled up with tears as they bit their lip to keep in theirscream. Their eyes were glowing yellow as they pressed their hand against thewound.

“You Goddamn, Heathens!” The men were jumping up,trying to get a grip on the side, but they were too sheer to grasp. Theyspouted curses, but Logan ignored them, carefully approaching the horse. If hewas lucky, then maybe they’d have to health supplies. Either way, maybe hecould win over the horse to make it easier for them to travel.

Logan held his hands up in a placating manner. He wentto the bigger horse first, watching for signs of distrust. After the gunshotwent off, both were skittish. One misstep and it took off, kicking up dust inits trail. He glanced at Patton, making sure their wound was covered. Pattonhad torn part of their coat and with a gust of wind, cleaned off the dust andwas tying it around their arm. It broke Logan’s heart to see this. Not that hewasn’t glad they couldn’t take care of it, but because they had to take care of it. They were tenyears old—too young to know how to take care of a bullet wound.

He turned back to the remaining horse, going slowerthis time. He didn’t have time to lament his sibling’s loss of innocence. The temperaturewas dropping, and they needed to put distance between them and the Lawmen.

This horse was thankfully less skittish. Horses,like most animals, understood that Gifted were different, but no inherently anymoredangerous than anyone else. Logan pressed his hand against its side, trailingalong until he reached the bag.

Logan sighed, almost ready to close up the hole he’ddropped the Lawmen in for their bags being so useless. There was only anothergun, some bullets, and a few Wanted flyers.

He managed to mount of horse with little fight fromthe steed. A few calming words and he was able to lead her toward Patton. With oneheft, he pulled Patton up on the horse with him. Patton leaned back against Logan’schest, still pressing against the wound.

“You’ll pay for this, Heathen!” The men cried. “We’llget out of here and then we’ll kill you. Both of you!”

Patton lifted one hand slightly, blowing some snow ontop of the men. They very rarely used their powers as an Ether, but now they weremore inclined to use them.

“That will fix itself in an hour.”

“You bastard! We’ll freeze out here.”

Logan whipped the reins. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

- - -

“Logan, are we there yet?”

“There’s a house up there. We can ask if we can staythe night.” It had been a month since they’d run into those Lawmen and sincethen they’d almost managed to hide again. Almost.

In the woods once again, they were off the trail inthe hopes of avoiding attracting attention. There was nothing they wanted morethan to just stop. Stop moving, stop hiding, stop being scared to turn acorner.

The only good thing was that he had grown betterinto his powers, using the earth to track safe places to stay—even they onlylast a short while.

As they trotted up to the small cottage, Loganchecked around the place again. The earth had never steered them wrong, but hecould never be too careful.

Patton slid off, patting the horse they’d affectionatelynamed Remy, while Logan dismounted and brushed off his clothes and hair. Beforehe could even approach the door, it opened viciously, an old womanframed by the light of the room.

“Who the hell are you two?”

Patton tensed, standing closer horse, but notbacking down. Logan stepped forward. “We have nowhere to go. I was hoping that perhapsyou could help us. Shelter us for the night.”

It was hard to make out her features from her shadowysilhouette. “And why the hell would I do that? How do I know you’re not Heathens?”

Logan gritted his teeth as he always did but managedto keep his civil tone. “Our house was burned down by them. If you won’t takeus both, at least take my brother.”

“But Lo—”

“It’s fine, Pat. I’m fine.” It wouldn’t have beenthe first time the two of them were split for the night.

The woman stared at them, eyeing both cautiouslybefore stepping aside. “Get in here both of you. Can’t have the heat escaping.”Patton led the horse to the side of the cottage, tying him before grabbingtheir things.

“Thank you for keeping us, ma’am.”

“Not a ma’am, kid.” She shut the door behind them. “Justcall me Joana.”

“Thank you, Joana.” Patton set down their things bythe door as Logan surveyed the place. It was one large room with a kitchen/dinningroom on the left and a bedroom/living room to the right. Two couches wereacross from the bed and a hearth sat between them. “I could start the fire, ifyou’d like.”

“No, no. I can take care of it.” Joana winked, eyes flashingred lighting the fireplace. He and Patton froze for a moment as shesaid, “Like recognizes like.”

“But how did— We were—” Logan was at a loss for words.There were so many emotions going through him, but the only thing coming forwas anger. How did she figure them out when he had been so careful as to not doanything that would make them seem different?

“Don’t worry, hun.” Joana moved to the kitchen,opening up a cupboard and taking out three teacups, grinning. “When you’re oldlike me, you get great at recognizing someone on the run. Can I know your names,dears?”

Patton looked at Logan, and though he knew they weretrying not to, hope was working its way into their features. Perhaps they weren’twrong to have some kind of…positive thoughts about her.

“Logan Sanders and my sibling, Patton.”

Joana held out her hand. It was pleasantly warm. “Niceto meet you, dear.”

@fugitive-angel​ @netzoflix​ @paragonofsophistication @angsty-anxxiety​ @thesmallestalien​ @saltequeen​ @theanxofthethomas​ @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​ @miniritzcrackers​ @ninjas-forever​   @stjernemaskin​ @deathshadowrules​ @nessie-drawgon​ @misty2-0​ @kenanscloud​ @tea–ghost​ @massivehoagiepastahumanoid​ @aznasalon​ @lilreadergurl​ @thagrinbery​ @fury-of-rome​ @spooky-ash-because-its-halloween @cosplayingdisn3rd @lunareclipse-13​ @probablysomeproblems​ @choppedfestdelusion​ @julia-loves-cupcakes​

[trashexplorer]

BLCD Review: Hako no Naka / Ori no Soto

Title: Hako no Naka / Ori no Soto (箱の中／檻の外)

Release Date: 2018/07/13

Author/Artist: Konohara Narise (for the novel), Kusama Sakae (illustrations) 

Cast: Kawahara Yoshihisa x Nobe Kenta

Synopsis: Douno has been falsely convicted of molesting a woman on a train. He serves time in a group cell in prison, surrounded by inmates who are all suspicious in some way. Just as Douno’s distrust of people reaches its peak, he is saved by the innocent kindness of his cellmate, Kitagawa. For Kitagawa, who is imprisoned as a murderer, this is the first time in his life that he feels the emotion of love. This complete edition encompasses the main work, “In the Box”, as well as “Out of the Cage”, which tells their story after their release from prison. (BakaUpdates)

Review Proper 

Yo.

I’m out, man.

I knew instantly from the synopsis that this was going to be a ride, but I didn’t expect it to be a tragic-feels ride. Gdi I shoulda known that this won’t be playing because I knew that the cover art was familiar. Turns out that Kusama Sakae was also the one who illustrated the cover for Shortcake no Ichigo ni Sawaranaide which hurt me like a bitch too. What a coincidence.

Anyway,

I’m a sadomasochistic piece of shit who takes pleasure in all kinds of painful situations, but I still think that there are many things in life that I don’t deserve happening to me.

And one of them is Hako no Naka / Ori no Soto.

Yo, the hole Life Senjou no Bokura left in my heart last year had finally started healing, but scratch that ‘cause now we’re fucking open again for business!

I’m not going into much detail about the actual plot because it’s longer than volume 1 of Judge Campanilla’s Criminal Law Reviewer. Honestly, I’m still at a loss for words as of this typing. I actually haven’t read the novel prior to listening to the BLCD, so I had a totally different opinion on Douno’s character then than what I have now. Almost all my issues and questions I had while listening to the BLCD were answered by reading the novel. 

So we’re going straight to the technicalities now.

A round of applause for Nobe Kenta, please.

I’m really very much surprised at how well Nobe Kenta pulled Douno off despite this being his debut in the BLCD world. I’m not exactly sure if it was the directors’ wishes or Nobe Kenta’s personal touch because Douno’s personality was marginally much more colder in the BLCD than in the novel. Not only did he manage to stand on equal footing with Kawahara Yoshihisa, he even managed to grab my full attention. He may still be a little rough around the edges (he still has to work on his crying and I’m not sure if he’s “good” at proper mattress mambos because we only had rape here), but I feel like he’s going to have a great future ahead of him. 👌  

Y’all know by know just how I love my talented man beast, Kawahara Yoshihisa and if you don’t know, now you do. 😂 Yo, it hurt me like a bitch listening to my man being hurt like that. I kept on imagining that it was Juda who was crying and getting blamed and shit.  😭😭😭 DON’T HURT MY MANS 🔪🔪🔪. He really took to his role well. I think they did well casting Kawahara Yoshihisa for Kitagawa ‘cause I can’t think of anyone else who’s more suited to it than him. Sasuga veteran-sama. 👏

They had pretty decent chemistry with each other, but it’s no Remnant Juujin Omegaverse. 🤷 Still, that’s pretty darn good for working together for the first time and for newbie Nobe. 👏😂

Now this is where the BLCD falls short - the accuracy and truthfulness to the original content. There are so many things that were left out from the original story line. Several important events, dialogue, and even characters were missing. We have two CDs - one for Hako no Naka and another one for Ori no Soto and they have seven tracks each which equals the number of chapters per volume of the novel, so why did they fail to include the most important parts? I mean, the whole thing is three hours long. 🤷 I was so pissed at Douno because it felt like his love for Kitagawa was so rushed and non-genuine and I’m glad that I read the novel afterwards because I got to see just how Douno elaborated on this “love” that he felt for Kitagawa and he utterly proved me wrong on my assumptions. If I read the novel before listening to this, I might have been upset, but since they really didn’t twist the story or anything just cut out some parts, I would still probably like this adaptation. 

Umm.

I loved this.

And hate it just the same. The whole experience was like a goddamned roller coaster ride and since I wasn’t satisfied with one ride, I gladly hopped on it again, but this time, there were no seat belts. It took me about a day and a half to recover from the BLCD and another day for the novel. 😩

In conclusion, I say that this was a pretty decent adaptation because even without reading the novel first, it hit me really hard. I do recommend this to those who haven’t read the novel yet, but I encourage you to read the novel afterwards (so that you’ll get the 100% of that 5% Detroit Smash the BLCD offers). If you do read the novel first, do be warned that there are cut outs.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be crying to myself to sleep.

Wake me up when September ends. 

[dayntee]

[Pillars: Deadfire] Frigid Nightmares

This whole thing came about as a result of me accidentally wandering into the Beast of Winter DLC and being WHOLLY unprepared for it (IE getting my ass utterly handed to me). After rolling back a fair notch, I’ve continued on, but I also tried to mentally justify the detour, backtrack, and continued exploration of the Deadfire and this... whatever it is, is what resulted. 

Summary: Ydwin’s insistence on investigating the invitation from Rymrgand’s faithful rubs Aloth the wrong way; his consciousness (both his own and a suppressed Iselmyr) pulls him in two directions. Should he follow his captain’s orders or push an agenda that’s more personal than he’s willing to admit?

Rating: PG-13, for some depicted gruesome violence

Relationships: Aloth x F!Watcher (unspoken/unresolved, ANGST AHOY)

Spoilers: Deadfire, Beast of Winter DLC (light)

Notes: Still finding Idralia’s accent, but it’s Aedyran with a Deadfire dull to it. Writing it out is almost as challenging as speaking it on stream. Imagine it landing somewhere between Aloth’s mid-Atlantic and Serafin’s super casual pirate cadence. And then trying not to make it sound Dyrwoodan. 

Also available here on AO3

A curled, familiar piece of tanned leather suddenly appeared before Idralia’s face. As she gently pushed it aside, the stern glare of Ydwin appeared from behind it, decisively reaching up with her spare hand to adjust her glasses on the bridge of her nose. 

“Watcher. You’ve had this invitation for weeks. Do you have any intention of investigating its source?” 

Idralia reached up and removed her eye patch, rubbing the protected eye for a moment as it re-adjusted back to the dim light below decks. She had no medical need for the patch, but her experience as a sharpshooter on the high seas had long since taught her the value in keeping an eye dim for travelling above and below deck. She preferred, however, to meet her companions with both eyes when discussing matters of import.

“Of course I do. I’d like to think that in the time you’ve been aboard The Defiant, you’ve noticed I‘m a woman of my word,” she took the missive from Ydwin’s insistent grasp, re-reading the contents over again. The thin, jagged writing in red disconcerted her; things were weird enough on the ship with Xoti’s slow descent into constant bloodlust and a growing tension between herself and Aloth that sailing to the furthest southern reaches to freeze her arse off didn’t seem like a logical next step. “There’s just, you know, this whole matter of Eothas destroying the Deadfire by wading through it like a toddler’s bathing pool, a stack of unclaimed bounties that’re honestly starting to rot, and the needs of our other compatriots to attend to. We’re sort of a busy lot,” 

Ydwin said nothing, crossing her arms and staring intently until Idralia met her gaze again. Once she did, the scout felt a prickling in her senses at the back of her mind as she felt the cipher reach out to her mentally.

And is that to say that my own concerns or interests are not as important as theirs? she questioned, and Idralia winced at the implication. Ydwin had largely been confined to the ship since she had first boarded in Neketaka, and that had been even several more weeks prior to the receipt of the mysterious invitation from whomever this “Vatnir” was. She simply shook her head and she could feel the bubbling frustration from the pale elf. 

“Really wish you wouldn’t do that. It’s not necessary. Listen, I don’t know how much time I have left. I could die tomorrow from this whole splintered soul thing for all I know. It’s like... I don’t know what it’s like, I’m not sure anyone else out there has wandered about with only half of themselves,” she screwed her face in her own frustration, trying to make sense of her rapid string of thoughts. 

This is why I do this. You are conflicted and trying to take on too much. Slow down. Focus on this for a while - perhaps a focused distraction will allow you to more easily sort out your... other priorities. Idralia picked up on the hesitation of thought in Ydwin’s message, but before she could ask for clarification, the cipher had turned abruptly on her heel to exit the captain’s quarters. She dropped her face into a hand, rubbing at the bridge of her own nose and pushing upward to relieve pressure she’d been harboring in her sinuses—missing the unapologetic brush of shoulders between Ydwin and Aloth as he made his way in. 

Aloth cast a glance Ydwin’s way as she pushed past him with no sign of hesitation. While he held respect for Ydwin’s pursuit of knowledge in the metaphysics, her unapologetic approach to animancy rubbed him the wrong way. ‘No matter,’ he supposed, turning his attention back to the distracted Watcher.

It was clear to him for quite some time now that Idralia had been holding back the discussion regarding the nature of their friendship. While he still wasn’t certain he was ready to broach the topic himself, he did recognize she was respecting a boundary she had set years ago with him and he admired her diligence. Catching himself staring, he cleared his throat, and the woman snapped to attention, straightening in her desk chair and dropping a roll of leather to the floor, where it began to rock slowly with the listing of the ship. Aloth bent and picked up the missive before Idralia had fully regained her awareness, and his eyes skimmed its contents before he could stop himself.

“Ah - the Dead Floe is our next course then, captain?” he used the title playfully and enjoyed the pink that traveled up her ears at his use of it. Idralia wasn’t a fan of the title, particularly when used by her former adventuring party. With the plethora of time she had spent teasing him on their previous adventures, he found he was beginning to appreciate turning the tables. 

“Oh, w-well,” she stuttered a moment, regaining her composure with a deep breath before dropping her tricorn unceremoniously on the desk and relaxing in his company. Even when he did catch her off guard, she never took long to return to her more confident, certain bearing. “I think that would be Ydwin’s preference. I’ve been... having trouble focusing on one task at a time, and she requested her own interests take a priority for a time. I s'pose that’s not much different than taking a detour to Ori o Koiki, right?”

Aloth hummed an agreement and nodded. She had a point; it would be rather obvious favoritism if she weren’t equally willing to investigate the needs of their other companions. ‘An’ yet ye dinnae mine a thot ye might be th’ importan one, aye?’ Iselmyr bubbled from deep within his psyche, cackling all the while he silently pushed her back down. Opportunities to poke and prod at his most insecure feelings—that was often the most likely times his elder ego would make herself heard. At least her thoughts rarely, if ever, spilled from his mouth these days.

“That seems fair, to say the least. Still,” he hesitated, and Idralia re-focused her attention on him. 

“Tell me your thoughts, Aloth. You know I trust your opinion,” he felt a smile twitch at the side of his mouth, knowing full well how much she valued his council. It was odd to him that someone who was so certain in her actions would seek insight from someone as unsure as he was; oft before she’d claimed it was because she valued how very differently he perceived the world. As he grew to know her, however, he suspected it was because they were more alike than either cared to admit and he reaffirmed her beliefs rather than than questioned them. 

“Something about it simply seems... off. But I suppose that could be my predisposition for distrust in theological cults with extreme beliefs,” he gave a slight shrug and Idralia laughed. 

“You kind of have good reason to be suspicious. Maybe all the more reason to check this out sooner rather than later,” she waved off the notion and stood with a stretch. “Never mind all that, though, I doubt you came in here to talk about Ydwin. What do you need, Aloth?” she hipped her hand and gave him that carefree smile, the one that made him believe without a doubt she knew exactly where she was going, how she was going to get there, and reaffirmed his decision in tagging along on her adventures. 

In that moment, his heart skipped a beat and, just like that, his resolve was gone again. Logically, he knew better. Fear of rejection was ridiculous because he already knew she harbored feelings for him—she’d more or less confirmed that within hours of his rejoining her group. Emotionally though, there was the fear of hurting her, of breaking her heart... now that was a fate to which he was terrified he might find himself. It was his turn to backpedal. 

“A-ah, oh, I-I’m... afraid you’ve preemptively answered my inquiry. I was merely wondering where we might be sailing to next,” he attempted to shrug nonchalantly once more, but he knew she was far too perceptive to ignore the stiffness in his shoulders and forced movement. She smiled, a sad sort of resignation in her eyes, and she scooped up her eye patch and cap from the desk before moving up to place her other hand on his shoulder. 

“Another time then,” she promised quietly, and his bare shoulder burned with the absence of her warmth as she moved past, donning her headgear once more and moving above deck.

‘Ya bullocksed tha’ one, Corfiser,’ he felt the mockery wave through again and this time he allowed Iselmyr to chide him. Quite frankly, he felt he deserved it. "Not like ye kin run afar offa ship, ye dafty,” he found himself muttering alone, and he bit the inside of his cheek to quell the bubbling criticisms, lest another crew mate overhear. He had maintained fair control of Iselmyr and, even if in this matter she was right, he wasn’t about to let it go again. 

Sighing, he returned below decks, settling himself in his bunk where he might distract his thoughts with his latest grimoire acquisition or simply drift off. Anywhere he could be without thoughts that rang too true.

“It’s casting again! Aloth, can you sto-” Idralia’s command was lost the moment she was blown back by a blast of bitter cold and hail. Already, Ydwin, Xoti, and Cantelope all lay unconscious at the feet of the gargantuan rotting beast, its rancid wings flapping languidly amidst the biting cold winds of the Dead Floe. Idralia’s bow skidded several feet away from her grasp across the icy ground, and it took every last bit of Aloth’s concentration to maintain the spell he was forming. His arcane reserves were burning low, and he only had a handful of spells remaining that seemed to have any effect on the lumbering so-called Herald of Rymrgand. Even Idralia’s normally fearsome powerful shots were barely penetrating its frozen hide. 

Idralia scrambled through the snow, scraping away her eye patch to rely on her full sight, squinting against the bright sky as she adjusted to the sudden influx of light. She whirled about on the ground, bringing up her warbow with both hands just a huge claw came down to attempt to crush her into the ground. She managed to prop it between her and the dragon, straining against an impossible strength, and Aloth knew there was only a moment more he might take advantage of the distraction that could save all their lives—or doom them all.

“Athek werthan roth!” with emphasis, he finished the last fiery incantation he had remaining, watching the fireball form around the rear of the beast and scorching its back flank. ‘It’s not enough!’ he panicked, and the first crunch he heard following the explosion was not half as sickening as the second.

Idralia screamed in pain, one of the dragon’s huge claws pinning her to the ground through nearly the whole of her left shoulder, her leather armor easily sundered and barely enough skin and sinew remaining to keep her arm attached to her torso. Her left fingers spasmed out with raw nerve stimulation, her right hand coming up to grasp the splintered remains of her family heirloom, the only item of purchase she could find. Blood pooled below her, vibrant against the stark white below.

“IDRALIA, NO!” was all Aloth could manage before he was immediately weaving another spell, this time an unerring Minoletta’s. But the enemy was faster yet, unnaturally so, as it slammed a backhanded claw into Eder’s shield, sending the Dyrwoodan man flying back into the remains of the ice sculpture of Rymrgand, his head knocking violently against the pedestal and stilling him at the base.

“A-Aloth,” the elf barely heard his name over the harsh whistling, and he dared to look once more in the direction of the one he had truly come to care for, despite his reticence in letting her know. And there it was. That knowing smile. The one that would normally warm his heart instead sank it deep within his chest, settling in his stomach where he doubted it would ever rise again. 

‘I can’t save them,’ he realized, the spell he was finishing fizzling in his grasp as another claw came down around his captain’s body, covering it from his view, but not without causing a gruesome splatter. His stomach churned and he looked away, knowing his distance from the fight simply meant he would be the last to join them.

He swore the dragon began to chuckle as it inhaled again, filling its chest with frozen air intended to erase him from existence. This foe was just too strong. As once more the icy chill of snow and hail began to rain around him, numbing his core, he was left only with that failure. ‘I can’t save her,”  

He awoke drenched in sweat, a stark contrast from the chill of the nightmare that was rapidly escaping his mind. He was breathing sharply, and pushed his grimoire from his chest, a heavy thud hitting the deck below that caused him to wince. Thankfully, he realized none of the light sleepers were present, with Eder heavily snoring in the hammock below his and Serafin’s smaller form curled up in a cot across the way.

‘A quick walk then,’ he wiped his brow with his blanket, nimbly exiting his hammock and replacing his grimoire among his other belongings before heading above deck, taking his time to avoid eye contact with any of the other crew he happened by. 

“Bad dreams takin’ to you too, Aloth?” Xoti echoed from the hall as he climbed upward, and he tried not to startle at the sudden acknowledgement. She was always where you never expected these days, and it was rapidly becoming disconcerting.

“AAH, ah, yes. You could say that,” he looked anywhere but her eyes as she loomed forward with interest, the soft and eerie glow of her lantern brightening as she grew closer. She unhooked it from her belt and peered within, as though seeking some answer from it, before eyeing him once more.

“They haunt me too. Every night. I wonder if I’ll ever get a proper sleep again...” she chuckled suddenly, as if in on her own joke. “But of course I will. When Gaun’s done with me, that is,” 

“W-well. We can’t all hope for divine intervention. I’ll just be getting some fresh air,” he brusquely shut down the conversation, desiring little more insight to the demons that undoubtedly haunted the Dawnstar priestess, and deeply hoping either she or the Watcher had that situation under control. Xoti shrugged and Aloth quickly exited, closing the door to below decks quite firmly behind him. 

It was just past midnight, partially cloudy, which allowed his eyes to adjust quickly to the deep nighttime sky. He took a deep breath, exhaling just as purposefully and noted the fog caused by his warm breath in the air. ‘We’re heading south,’ he acknowledged, and he shuddered, in part due to the chilly night as well as from the lingering horrors of his dreams.

“Can’t sleep?” he heard from above, and he didn’t bother glancing up. Idralia often spent her time in the rigging or crow’s nest when she wasn’t in her quarters. He hadn’t fully expected to find her out here at this hour, but then her proclivity for wearing a patch often meant she stretched her eyes in the dark rather than the light. 

“I slept well enough, but...” he shook his head. It was a dream, for gods sakes. Divination wasn’t his strong suit or a personally strong belief, particularly after learning the mortal nature of the so-called deities. Surely, dreams could hold meaning, but why would the divine ever reveal a truth to him when they could speak directly to the Watcher?

He heard a gentle thump as Idralia dropped down behind him, and he leaned against the railing of the ship, looking out and anywhere but at her. The memories, even if they were imagined, were still too fresh. Thankfully, she didn’t press, leaning backwards into the railing instead so that they might not need to meet eye to eye.

“You know, I’m not fond of the cold. Hate it, actually. Winter’s my least favorite season,” she wrinkled her nose. “Part of why I like the Deadfire so much. Stick in the right parts and it’s pleasant year-round,” 

“I find it hard to believe that pirates, sea monsters, ghost ships, and conniving bureaucrats are that much better than a bit of snow and wind,” he replied, thankful for the distraction in conversation.

“A whole lot more exciting at any rate. Your ship gets frozen and there winds up being not much to do but sit around. I prefer to keep moving,” he could see the hint of a smile on her lips from the corner of her sight, and he smirked in response.

“Is that why we’ve been everywhere around the Deadfire except Magran’s Teeth?” she laughed uneasily at the question and turned slowly to face out to the water, her smile more sheepish now.

“You’ve got me. There’s a lot I want to end, especially this whole half-a-soul situation, but...” she grew quiet, contemplative, and he saw her glance his way again. Still, he could not meet her eyes. “But not everything,” she finished quietly, and he understood there was so much more unsaid behind her statement. 

That moment hung between them a while, the two listening to the waves hit the side of the ship, the creak of the wood and rigging, the flap of the canvas sails in the night breeze. It centered both of them in different ways and, for a moment, he was back on the roads of the Dyrwood with her, when they might instead be listening to the crackle of the campfire and the crickets in the countryside. 

“Well,” he started, after a time, “I think there’s still quite a lot we have left to do. And we don’t have to start with the coldest tasks first,” he finally turned his head to look at her, and she met his eyes. He smiled gently, encouragingly, and she chuckled.

“What, tell Ydwin to wait her turn?” she sighed, and he could tell she bore the weight of responsibility to her crew and their needs.

“The choice is ultimately yours. You’re the captain, after all—we’re all going to go where you take us,” he reasoned. “Certainly you might need to approach things with more focus but... perhaps consider that focus should be on something for you.” 

Idralia looked at him with a more startled glance and she studied his face for a moment. After a while, she closed her eyes, turned her head back out over the water, and sighed. 

“You give good advice, Aloth. Perhaps I shouldn’t get ahead of myself on this one... and honestly, those bounties actually are starting to rot,” 

“I mean, I wasn’t going to bring it up, but...”

“But they’re stored in a chest below Tekehu’s bunk and you don’t mind his quiet torment?” she winked at him and he suppressed a smile in spite of himself. 

“Even I’m not that cruel,” he raised his hands helplessly and Idralia gave him a gentle shove. 

“Alright, you’ve made your point. I think we’ve got quite a bit to report on back at Neketaka. And honestly... I could use a dip in the bath house again. I doubt the crew would fight me much on that one,” she reasoned, and they both knew full well a shore leave would be well-received. 

“I’ll never be one to complain,” Aloth reassured and Idralia returned a smug grin. ‘Oh no,’ He walked into this one, and he knew it.

She leaned in close, uncomfortably close, and murmured.

“You’ve never been one to complain about a good view, Corfiser,” 

Without giving him so much as a second to sputter in protest, she pushed herself from the railing and headed to the door below decks, casting a last sidelong glance at him to enjoy the bewildered look on his face. The night was too dark to catch the beet red blush across his cheeks, spreading onward to the tips of his ears, but he hardly doubted she needed the visual confirmation of his discomfort. They knew each other far too well. 

He let her close the door behind her before he sighed to himself, sinking his hot face in his hands down against the railing until he felt the cool wooden surface on his forehead. ‘I’ve avoided one catastrophe,’ he reassured himself, though he wasn’t so certain his nightmare was anything more than the feverish imagination of his innate worrywart. 

‘But what else am I walking into?’ he wondered, knowing with growing certainty he couldn’t keep this awkward dance of theirs going on forever.

[vincent-frankenstein]

Bloodbond - Chapter Thirteen

The last part of my entry for @ts-storytime!!

Chapter Summary: One bond is broken, and another takes its place. Virgil and Roman stand side-by-side and face an uncertain future.

Pairings: prinxiety, background joan/talyn

Warnings: I can't think of anything Really Bad in this one, but shoot me a dm if u need smth tagged!

Read on A03

{ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 }

art by @pattykrabbies {here} and @vdkstar {here}!!!

(cover by @vdkstar <3)

“Hey!”

Warmth. Soft, gentle warmth, and calming light to match. He groaned softly, shifting.

“Wake up, idiot. We’re back.”

There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake, and the voice above him ripped with sarcasm and exhaustion and a dryness all its own, the accent wonderfully familiar. He felt a rush of relief as he opened his eyes, blinking in the scarlet light from the sky above.

“Virgil,” he breathed.

“Ugh, finally.” Virgil rolled his eyes, a certain fondness to his smirk that made Roman’s heart flutter. “You snore like a bear, you know that?”

“Lies and slander,” Roman said in mock-offense. His body ached, his thoughts slow and sore, but still he pushed himself to his feet, tearing his eyes from Virgil for a moment to survey their surroundings.

They sat in the shadow of the queen’s castle, just beyond the front door; but it was different, somehow, nicer. Lighter. He felt no rush of fear, no deluge of depressing thoughts — only a heavy tidal wave of relief. They’d made it out. They were okay.

“Roman!”

A blur of orange and white tore away from a tall man standing at the edge of the clearing and came at him faster than the fastest of spells, nearly knocking him over in their haste. Roman beamed, a relieved noise somewhere between a laugh and a cry tearing from his throat.

“If you ever fucking convince me to do something as stupid as this again, I’ll kill you.” Joan held him tightly for a moment, as though afraid he’d disappear, and then pulled away, crossing their arms. “And I mean that as lovingly as possible, you stupid f-word face.”

“Aww, come on, it all worked out in the end!” Roman said with a laugh. “And it seems someone made a new friend, too, so you got even more than we bargained for!”

He wiggled his eyebrows, nodding towards Talyn, who rolled their eyes but offered Joan a smile.

“So, uh… what were you saying about me being a traitor, again?” Roman whispered jokingly, his smile growing wider when Joan returned Talyn’s smile with a suspiciously red face.

“Shut up.”

Roman burst out laughing, stifling his giggles behind his hand as Joan glared, red-faced. He opened his mouth to tease more, but a sudden voice cut him off.

“... Son.”

Roman turned, looking up into the grizzled, scarred face of his father. King Odin stood tall, his face a kaleidoscope of distrust and uncertainty.

“Father,” Roman said, keeping his voice even, though his heart pounded warily in his chest. Internally, he cringed, waiting for the anger to overtake his father’s face, waiting for him to prattle on about demons and betrayal and whisk him away, away from his new friends and away from Virgil.

“What you did was incredibly reckless,” he began, his voice gruff. “You broke nearly a dozen of our kingdom’s laws. You teamed up with demons. Under normal circumstances, I would have you exiled.”

Roman found only cold defiance where he’d expected to find fear. “I also saved your life,” he snapped. “Have you ever considered that you might be, I don’t know, wrong?”

“Let me finish,” King Odin said harshly. Then, as a hesitant afterthought, “...please.”

Roman crossed his arms and nodded. King Odin sighed, dragging his gaze across the mismatched bunch of humans and demons before him.

“Under normal circumstances,” he repeated. “These are… not normal circumstances. You… all… saved my life. Your sentiment might hold… some truth, I suppose. You demons aren’t all... as bad as I thought.”

Roman’s eyes widened. Was he… admitting he was wrong? Roman hadn’t thought that was possible. King Odin was prideful and powerful and never wrong.

But today, King Odin was hesitant. “I may be willing to… reconsider my earlier viewpoints…” he said, his voice a low, halting growl. Roman gaped, spluttering. This was the last thing he had expected. “I still don’t trust them and I still don’t approve of your rescue methods, but… recent events must be taken into account.”

He faced Roman, and something new flashed through his eyes. “Roman, you… you did what you had to do to save me. You did what you knew was… right, and you stood up to me over it. You were strong, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted you to be.”

And then his father set a hand on Roman’s shoulder and offered something Roman had never seen from him before: a smile.

“I’m proud of you,” his father said — and Roman, for all he prided his loquaciousness, found himself stricken speechless. His father’s words echoed through his mind.

“I — thank you.” It felt amazing, hearing his father say the words he’d longed to hear for so long, and he knew this was all he had ever wanted — but he also knew that it wasn’t all he wanted anymore. He’d faced dragon-witches and sirens and foes so dangerous it was a wonder he was still alive. He’d literally traveled to hell and back. And he’d learned things, too, things about himself and about the word, and he’d realized; he wanted his father’s praise... But he didn’t need it anymore.

Because, sure, King Odin was proud of him… but he was proud of himself.

He glanced at Virgil, and brought his gaze across Sleep and Talyn and Joan, as though to remind himself that they were still there, that they were okay — and then, finally, his eyes landed on a stranger, standing at the edge of the group with his arm around Joan’s shoulders. He recognized him by the patch on his sleeves, the Gaepried crest surrounded by stars.

The Royal Mage.

He stood taller than Roman, smiling despite the remnants of blood streaked across the side of his face. A mess of freckles covered his round, tan face, as though he had been splattered there by a haphazard painter, and his hair was soft and golden-brown, the tips darkened with deep purple dye. He noticed Roman’s curious gaze and, drawing his arm from around Joan, stepped forward and offered his hand.

“I, uh, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet,” he began, his voice cheerful. “I’m the Royal Mage, Thomas. It’s an honor to meet you, your highness!”

“Ah, call me Roman,” Roman said, returning the mage’s kind smile. “And you have no idea how much I have gone through just to meet you.”

“To meet… me?” he asked, and Virgil snorted at his confused expression. “Why?”

“Well…” Roman exchanged a look with Virgil. “We have a small problem that we need your help with.”

“Small?” Virgil scoffed. “Understatement of the century.”

“Hush, Sir Snark-A-Lot.” Roman rolled his eyes. “So, Thomas, have you by any chance ever heard of a Bloodbond?”

Thomas gasped and nodded, eyes wide, and the group watched with rapt attention, ready for a story that Roman was all-too-happy to tell. He prided himself on being an excellent storyteller, and this time was no different; he touted the exciting parts and glazed over the less-than-ideal ones, spinning a story so grand he almost couldn’t believe he’d live through it. The sky above melted into a golden-scarlet sunless sunset as he wove his story; and at the end of it all, silence reigned.

“Wait, so — holy shit, that’s why…” Joan broke the silence a few charged moments later, eyes wide. “I am so sorry I was ever rude to you, man,” they said, addressing Virgil with an almost-teasing lilt beneath their voice. “Speaking from experience, for you to have dealt with him for so long like that… you’re braver than any Gaepriedian soldier.”

“Hey!” Roman cried, affronted, placing a hand over his heart as though he’d been wounded.

“Ugh, thank you. Finally, someone agrees with me about how annoying that little shit is.” Virgil’s voice shook with laughter. “Trust me, it was absolute torture.”

“I am right here!” Roman exclaimed, glaring when the two burst out laughing. But it wasn’t long before the corners of his own lips began to twitch, and he rolled his eyes as a begrudging smile spread across his face.

“Girl, you tried to cast a half-translated spell. I think they’re allowed to laugh at you.” Sleep leaned against a tree and offered Roman a teasing half-smile, his voice slow and honeyed as though he’d been close to catching his namesake.

“I’m not gonna lie, that was a pretty bad idea,” Thomas added, rubbing the back of his neck. Roman huffed, crossing his arms.

“Glad to see you all bonding over this,” he grumbled. “But really, if you’re done making fun of the best person out of all of you, I think we have more important matters to discuss.”

“I agree,” his father said. “I don’t approve of how you got into this mess, but it’s imperative that you get out of it.” He paused, and then… “And, obviously, I’m the best person out of all of you. That’s just a fact.”

“Oh, so that’s where he gets it from,” Virgil muttered with a roll of his eyes as Roman gasped loudly, offended. “But yeah, I’m with princey. Let’s get this figured out.”

“Princey?” Joan echoed. “Oh my god, I’m calling you that forever now.”

“Joan, no —”

“Anyway,” Thomas said insistently, cutting Roman off before he could argue. “I… I can definitely reverse that. Right now, if you want? It’s a complicated spell, but this place is filled with magic, so it shouldn’t be too hard. I just need something to write some runes with…”

“I have a pen,” Talyn offered, rummaging through their bag. Thomas smiled and began scribbling runes across his hand, instructing Joan and Sleep as they began spreading paper across the ground.

Virgil caught Roman’s eye. The look on his face was insistent, if a bit shy, and Roman pushed himself to his feet.

“We’ll, ah… we’ll be right back,” he said, and followed Virgil farther into the dead forest around them, the soft din of conversation behind them dulling to a charged silence.

“So.” Virgil stopped and leaned against a bare tree, his wings shifting behind him. “Once that human finishes the spell, you’ll finally be rid of me So, uh… this is goodbye, I guess.”

Roman blinked, a strange feeling spreading through his chest. Just a week ago, he would have given anything to hear those words, to be ‘free.’ But now? Now, the thought of saying goodbye, of never seeing him again... it hurt, in a strange, hot sort of way. Now… he didn’t want to leave.

“So I figured we should get… whatever it is we have to get out of the way… out of the way before…” He crossed his arms, the rose-shaped clasp on his borrowed cloak catching the sunset’s light and gleaming.

“Wait!” Roman said quickly, his voice almost cracking. “Why does this have to be goodbye? Won’t we… see each other again?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, regarding him strangely. “Uh-huh. Because we’re going to cast massive summoning spells every time we want to see each other, right?” He sighed. “Look. You’re going to go back to your kingdom, and I…” He looked around, eyes catching on the castle looming overhead. “I’ll go back to… mine, and that’ll be the end of it.”

“But —”

“But nothing, princey. I’m a demon, you’re a human, we can’t — it just doesn’t work like that. That’s not how things are.”

“But what if it didn’t have to be that way?” Roman exclaimed, louder than he’d intended, and Virgil startled, eyes going wide. “What if…” he said again, quieter this time, and stepped forward. Carefully, gently, he reached out and took Virgil’s hands, and though Virgil tensed at the contact, he didn’t pull away.

“Things are changing, Virgil,” he said softly. “We made them change. Queen Aliah is gone! And King Odin…” He thought back to his father’s almost-apology. “He’s finally seeing the truth. Just as I did.”

They were close, very close; Roman felt as though he could get lost in the depths of Virgil’s eyes. “Say what you will, but this isn’t goodbye. I can promise you that.”

Virgil held his gaze, soft pink spreading across his pale cheeks, and let out a soft breath. Time seemed to still — for a moment, nothing else mattered, nothing else existed besides Roman and Virgil and the space between them — and then Virgil let out a groan and averted his gaze, running a hand through his hair to hide his deeply reddened face.

“Ugh, you sap,” he groaned. “We couldn’t just have a normal goodbye, no, you had to go and make it stupid and heartfelt and… sweet…”

Roman laughed. “What can I say? I’m good at heartfelt moments.” A grin spread across his face and he raised his eyebrows. “Careful, Virgil, any redder and I won’t be able to tell the difference between your cloak and your face.

“Shut up,” Virgil hissed, swatting at him. “I’m not blushing, asshole, it’s just — it’s hot out.”

“Is it hot out, or is it just me?” Roman asked, his voice playfully wistful as he turned to gaze dramatically off towards the last dying rays of scarlet daylight. Virgil swatted at him again, growling.

“Fine!” he said. “This isn’t goodbye. Though if you keep being so annoying, it will be, got it?”

Roman’s grin became genuine, elated, and he relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. This wasn’t goodbye. “I can’t make any promises,” he said, and Virgil rolled his eyes.”

“Anxiety! Your h — ah, Roman!” Thomas’ voice cut them off before their soft conversation could continue, and Roman’s grin shrank into a small, gentle smile.

“You ready?” he asked. Virgil shook his head, a tiny smile finding its way onto his face — and Roman realized with a jolt in his heart that this was the first time he’d ever seen Virgil truly smile, no hint of sarcasm of self-deprecation in sight. His heart skipped a beat; he was beautiful.

“Nah,” Virgil said quietly. “...let’s do it.”

The group waited for them back in the clearing, standing around a makeshift runic circle, drawn in purple ink on a pile of assorted scrap papers. As Talyn bemoaned the loss of their pen, which had tragically run out of ink, Thomas smiled and spread his arms wide.

“It’s a bit messy, but it should work,” he said. He’d scribbled runes across his hands and up his arms, and they glowed softly as they channeled his magic. “You two, stand in the center. Everyone else, stand back. This is going to be… interesting.”

“If you kill us, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life,” Virgil grumbled as he stepped into the makeshift circle, the papers crunching beneath his feet. “Even if it’s an accident.”

“Well, I mean, I’ve never tried something like this before… but there’s no time like the present, right? Besides, I’m mostly sure you’ll be fine.” Thomas sat beside the circle, setting one hand in his lap, palm facing upwards, and the other atop the edge of the circle. It began to glow at his touch, colorful light swirling through the air, and little flames sparked to life around the edges.

Roman tensed as a strange feeling flooded through him, as though he’d been pumped full of electricity. The runic circle glowed brighter, sparks of magic dancing around them.

“Okay, when I finish the incantation, you two need to make some sort of contact, like… a high-five or something. Don’t stop until I say so!” Thomas glowed with his magic, shifting from red to green to purple in a dizzying rainbow as he began the spell.

Caught in a whirlwind of light and color, Roman’s eyes met Virgil’s. The outside world seemed to fade away, Thomas’ voice lost among the spell, and a silent conversation passed between the two in the span of a second — and suddenly, finally, Roman realized what the strange feeling was, what was causing his face to heat up and his heart to race, what he wanted more than anything else.

The magic around them swelled, and the electrical feeling grew. Suddenly, Roman felt the Bloodbond as he never had before: stronger, more insistent, tugging them closer. It filled every bone, every inch of his body, and they stepped towards each other as Thomas reached the end of his incantation.

“Now!” Thomas' voice sliced through the tornado around them — and they surged together, their lips meeting as the magic flared, a symphony of light and color to match the symphony swelling within them. Virgil’s fingers tangled through Roman’s hair; Roman tightened his hold around him as though afraid he’d disappear, because he couldn’t lose this, because this was right. Electricity flashed in curving arcs around them, within them, and they didn’t pull apart until well after the spell had ended and the tug of the Bloodbond had faded.

“Oh my — yas girl, get it!” Sleep was the first to respond, his hands cupped around his mouth as he cheered. Virgil tore his gaze from Roman and glared sharply.

“Shut it, Sleep,” he growled.

“You guys, I said like… a high-five,” Thomas said softly, eyes wide and disbelieving. Roman laughed.

“Go big or go home, am I right?”

“That was so fucking gay,” Joan said, clapping Roman on the back. Roman’s laughter grew.

“Well, duh. That was sort of the point.” Roman drew his arm from around Virgil and, after a moment’s hesitation, laced their fingers together. And god, his shy smile, the way pink spread across his pale face — it made the entire journey worth it just to get to this point.

“You two are like… modern day Romeo and Juliet. It’s cute,” Talyn remarked, pushing themself back to their feet and shoving their broken pen into their bag. Virgil scoffed.

“Nah, neither of us are idiots.” He paused, glancing at Roman. “You know what, nevermind, I take it back. This idiot would die if he wasn’t always doing something stupid.”

“Hey!” Roman gasped. “I thought we just had a bonding moment!”

“So?” Virgil smirked, one eyebrow raised. “Just because we love each other or some stupid shit like that doesn’t mean I can’t still make fun of you.”

“Aw, you love me?”

“Ugh,” Virgil groaned. “Shut up.”

As Thomas gathered the papers from the ground and the group began discussing how to get the humans home, Virgil and Roman drew away, following the base of the castle until they reached the front, until they could look down at the ruined kingdom spread beneath. The whole realm was about to change. Queen Aliah was dead, which meant…

“I guess this is mine now, huh?” Virgil leaned against the castle’s wall and slid down, sitting cross-legged.

“I suppose so.” Roman sat beside him, and felt as though his heart would burst when Virgil leaned into his side. “It’s rather ironic, don’t you think? All that time spent bashing princes, only to end up one.”

“Ugh. I still stand by what I said, princey. All princes are dumb.” He snorted. “That means I’ve been self-deprecating all this time? God, what a mood.”

“I’m almost offended,” Roman said, close to smiling. “Well, your highness? What are you going to do?”

“Ew. Don’t call me that.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I — shit, I don’t know. I can’t rule, I — I can barely take care of myself, let alone a whole kingdom. You should rule, you’re way better at being a stupid prince than I am.”

“Hey,” Roman chided softly, taking Virgil’s hand. “You may not think so, but you are a good leader. And a powerful mage. Though I hate to admit it, I… probably would have died on this journey if it weren't for you. You’re going to do wonderfully, my prince, and I am only a… a realm away if you’re ever in need of princely advice.”

That sent a pang through his heart. He hadn’t thought about it before, but it was true: they were going to be realms apart, constantly separated. When would they see each other again?

“A realm away? Ugh. That’s stupid,” Virgil mumbled. “I can’t… do this alone. I…”

He yanked a blade of ebony grass from beneath them and twirled it around his fingers, tapping his foot anxiously against the group. He seemed to consider something, eyebrows furrowing as he glanced first at Roman and then at the kingdom spread out beneath them.

“You… you know…” he began slowly, thoughtfully. “I could… use some help. A, y-you know, prince… consort or — or something.” The corner of his mouth twitched up into a momentary smirk. “So if you know of any really stupid, annoying princes who could help me out…”

“I don’t know about really stupid, annoying princes, but… I do know of one stupidly handsome, annoyingly wonderful prince who would be… happy to assist.” Their eyes met and Virgil blushed, twirling the blade of grass so quickly that it was surprising it didn’t break. “If you’ll have him, that is.”

“Yeah,” Virgil breathed, relieved. “Yeah, I’ll have him.”

He held Roman’s gaze for a moment longer and then got back to his feet and set his hands on his hips, surveying the kingdom beneath them. In the rusty-red near-darkness of night, free of the queen’s fear curse, it almost looked… beautiful.

“Well?” Virgil turned to him, looking positively radiant beneath the deep red sky. “You ready to rule this hellhole with me?”

Roman climbed to his feet, smiling as he joined Virgil on the hillside. He couldn’t imagine the changes that would follow that day; that, in the months to come, the demon realm would prosper, that under their rule, the demon and human realms would finally know peace. Everything had changed.

But right now, all Roman could imagine, all he could think about was Virgil — Virgil standing before him, Virgil bathed in soft red light, Virgil who he’d spend the rest of his future with.

Virgil, who he loved.

He took Virgil’s hands in his own, bringing their faces close. As he gazed into Virgil’s eyes, he knew — this was what he wanted. This was what he needed. This was it — his happily-ever-after. Standing in the shadow of their castle, overlooking their kingdom, he brought their foreheads together and let out a breath.

“I couldn’t be more ready,” he said, and brought their lips together once more.

[theimaginesyouneveraskedfor]

Roo’s Classic Literature Writing Challenge

As my first writing challenge, I am going to provide a list of classic literature quotes under the cut for all you lovelies to choose from. I thought it would be something a little different for everyone and something to have fun with.  

Now you may have a few questions and I will answer them all before we begin:

Do I have to follow you to participate?

Not at all. I understand my blog isn’t for everyone and this isn’t to promote me, it’s to promote all of you lovely writers! It’s not required, but a reblog always helps spread the word for the challenge, too.

Which fandom do I write for?

That is entirely up to you. Your choice of fandom and characters. As well you can write Reader, AU, or Pairings. It is all your creative prerogative.

What kind of story do I write?

Angst, fluff, smut, whatever. They will all be accepted within reason (ie. no incest or non-consent).

What do I do with the quote? Do I choose only one?

The quotes are intended to provide a theme or mood for your story but that doesn’t mean you can’t include it directly in your piece. And if you want to choose more than one, go for it!

How do I get involved?

Send me an ask with the following:

               *fandom and character (s)

               *your selected quote

After you’ve finished, send me and ask or tag me in your fic and tag it

#Roo’s Classic Lit Challenge

. If I don’t reblog/like within a day, send me a message to make sure I’ve seen it.

All fics will be included in a masterlist that I will include on my blog 😊

When do I have to get this done by?

I know all of you have WiPs and all those lovely projects, so I will be generous with my time and set it for

Friday, April 20th, 2018.

Any other questions are appreciated and I look forward to reading all of your creations!

Quotes:

1.       “I like good strong words that mean something…” ― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

2.       “My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.” ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

3.       “Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.” ― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

4.       “No evil dooms us hopelessly except the evil we love, and desire to continue in, and make no effort to escape from. ” ― George Eliot, Daniel Deronda

5.       “I am not proud, but I am happy; and happiness blinds, I think, more than pride.” ― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

6.       “I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.” ― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

7.       “There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'.” ― Virginia Woolf, The Waves

8.       “I'd rather take coffee than compliments just now.” ― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

9.       “Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.” ― Oscar Wilde, The Critic as Artist

10.   “Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it.” ― Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus

11.   “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.” ― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

12.   “Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.” ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

13.   “As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment.” ― John Steinbeck, Of Mice and Men

14.   “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope...I have loved none but you.” ― Jane Austen, Persuasion

15.   “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.” ― Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven

16.   “Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it... Yet.” ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

17.   “It's necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.” ― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

18.   “I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.” ― Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus

19.   “We dream in our waking moments, and walk in our sleep.” — Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter

20.   “There is but one coward on earth, and that is the coward that dare not know.” ― W.E.B. Du Bois, Dusk of Dawn

21.   “Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way.” ― Jane Austen, Emma

22.   “I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.” ― Oscar Wilde, The Happy Prince and Other Stories

23.   “What loneliness is more lonely than distrust?” ― George Eliot, Middlemarch

24.   “There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.” ― Edgar Allan Poe, The Masque of the Red Death

25.   “It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.” ― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

26.   “People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for.” ― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

27.   “At the moment when her eyes closed, when all feeling vanished in her, she thought that she felt a touch of fire imprinted on her lips, a kiss more burning than the red-hot iron of the executioner.” ― Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame

28.   “Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat.” ― Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

29.   “I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.” ― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

30.   “It sounds plausible enough tonight, but wait until tomorrow. Wait for the common sense of the morning.” ― H.G. Wells, The Time Machine

31.   "It's much better to do good in a way that no one knows anything about it." ― Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

32.   ­"It is a great misfortune to be alone, my friends; and it must be believed that solitude can quickly destroy reason." ― Jules Verne, The Mysterious Island

33.   “I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

34.   “No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.” ― Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter

35.   “Alright then, I’ll go to hell.” ― Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

36.   “The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.” ― Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles

37.   “Some people could look at a mud puddle and see an ocean with ships.” ― Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

38.   “I saw the Cloud, though I did not foresee the Storm.” ― Daniel Defoe, Moll Flanders

39.   “After all, tomorrow is another day!” ― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind

40.   “I look at you and a sense of wonder takes me.” — Homer, The Odyssey

41.   “We can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.” — George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss

42.   “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” — John Milton, Paradise Lost

43.   “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

44.   “I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I'll go to it laughing.” — Herman Melville, Moby Dick

45.   “It’s better to look at the sky than live there” — Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s

46.   “I am satisfied ... I see, dance, laugh, sing.” ― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

47.   “We learn words by rote, but not their meaning; that must be paid for with our life-blood, and printed in the subtle fibres of our nerves.” ― George Eliot, The Lifted Veil

48.   “Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.” ― Victor Hugo, Les Miserables

49.   “I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.” ― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

50.   “If you look the right way, you can see the whole world is a garden.” ― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

[nancydsmithus]

15 Questions To Ask Your Next Potential Employer

15 Questions To Ask Your Next Potential Employer

Robert Hoekman Jr

2019-09-20T12:30:59+02:002019-09-20T10:34:39+00:00

In my book “Experience Required”, I encourage in-house UX professionals to leave companies who refuse to advance their UX intelligence and capability. There are far too many companies these days who understand the value of UX to waste your time being a martyr for one who will only frustrate you. Your best chance of doing a good job is to avoid a bad position.

Smartly, during a recent Q&A about the book, an audience member asked how we can avoid taking these jobs in the first place. What kinds of questions, he wondered, can you ask during an interview to spot red flags before the company stabs the whole flagpole into your sacred UX heart?

Know What You Want To Know

There’s the usual stuff, sure, such as asking why the position you’re applying for is currently open. What the company’s turnover rate is like. Why that turnover rate is so low or high. A little Googling will easily enough net you a decent list of broad questions you can ask any employer.

But what you really want is to get UX-specific. You want to hone in on precisely what your life might be like should you take the position.

Your best chance of doing a good job is to avoid a bad position.

“

Sadly, I lacked a great answer at the time to the question about interview questions, so I let it eat at me until I woke up at three a.m two days later and started writing notes. That morning, I emailed my reply to the moderator.

Ask A Great Question, Then Shut Up

To devise the list below, I considered what kinds of things I’d wish a company knew and understood about UX prior to working with them. I can operate in all kinds of situations—as a UX and process innovation consultant, this has been my job, and pleasure, for nearly 13 years now—but I want to know from the start, every time, that the effort will be set up for success. These questions aim to uncover the dirty details that will tell me what I’m walking into.

Much like a good validation session or user interview, these questions are open-ended and designed to draw out thoughtful, long-winded responses. (One-word answers are useless.) I strongly recommend that when and if you ask them, you follow each question with a long, stealthy vow of silence. People will tell you all about who they are if you just shut up long enough to hear them do it. Stay quiet for at least ten seconds longer than you think is reasonable and you’ll get the world.

People will tell you all about who they are if you just shut up long enough to hear them do it.

“

I’d ask these questions of as many individuals as possible. Given that tech interviews are often hours-long and involve many interviewers, you should be able to grab yourself a wealth of good answers before you head out the door to process and sleep.

If, on the contrary, you are given too little time to ask all these questions, prioritize the ones you’re personally most concerned about, and then consider that insufficient interview time might be a red flag.

Important: The key to the answers you receive is to read between the lines. Listen to what is said, note what is not said, and decide how to interpret the answers you get. I’ve included some red flags to watch out for along with each question below.

The Questions

Let’s get right to it.

1. How does this company define UX? As in, what do you believe is the purpose, scope, and result of good UX work?

Intent

Literally every person on Earth who is asked this question will give a slightly, or wildly, different answer than you expect or hope for. At the very least, the person interviewing you should have an opinion. They should have a sense of how the company views UX, what the various UX roles have to offer, and what effect they should have.

Red Flag(s)

The UX team has a very limited role, has no real influence, and the team, for the most part, is stretched so thin you could put them on a cracker.

2. How do the non-UX people on your product team currently participate in UX decisions? Follow-ups: Describe a recent example of this kind of participation. What was the UX objective? How was that objective vetted as a real need? What did you do to achieve the objective, step-by-step? How did it turn out? What did you learn?

Intent

Find out how the entire product team approaches UX and how collaborative and supportive they might be in acquiring and acting on good research insights.

Red Flag(s)

They don’t participate in UX decisions.

3. What UX roles exist in the organization, and what do they do?

Intent

Determine where you’ll fit in, and how difficult it might be for you to gain influence, experience, or mentorship (depending on what you’re after). Also, build on the previous question about who does what and how.

Red Flag(s)

UX people at the company are heavily skilled in graphic design, and not so skilled in strategy. The current team members have limited influence. Your role will be similar. Strategy is handled by someone else, and it trickles down to the UX team for execution.

4. Who is your most experienced UX person and in what ways does that experience separate them from others?

Intent

Determine the range of UX intelligence on the team from highest to lowest. Is the person at the top whip-smart and a fantastic leader? Does that person mentor the others and make them better?

Red Flag(s)

The interviewer cannot articulate what makes that person better or more compelling than others. If they can’t answer this question, you’re speaking to someone who has no business making a UX hiring decision. Ask to speak to someone with more inside knowledge.

Noteworthy, but not necessarily a red flag: If you learn that the most experienced person on the team is actually someone with a very sleight skill set, this can mean either there’s room for you to become an influencer, or the company puts so little value on UX that they’ve selected only employees with a small view of UX. The latter could mean you’ll spend all your time trying to prove the value of bigger UX involvement and more strategic work. You may like that sort of thing. I do. This would not be a red flag for me. It might be for you.

5. What are the company’s plans for UX long-term? (Expand it? Reduce it? How so, and why? Is there a budget for its expansion? Who controls it and how is it determined?)

Intent

Map out your road for the next couple of years. Can you rise into the role you want? Or will you be stuck in a cul-de-sac with zero chance of professional growth?

Red Flag(s)

We plan to keep doing exactly what we do now, and what we do now is pretty boring or weak. Also, we have no budget—like, ever—so if you want to bring in a consultant, attend a seminar, hire another person, or run a comprehensive usability study with outside customers, well, good luck with that.

6. How do UX professionals here communicate their recommendations? Follow-up: How could they improve?

Intent

Learn how they do it now, and more importantly, whether or not it works.

Red Flag(s)

The interviewer has no answer, or—far worse—has an anti-answer that involves lots of arm-waving and ideas falling on deaf ears. The former can, again, mean the interviewer has no business interviewing a UX candidate. The latter can mean the UX team is terrible at communicating and selling its ideas. While this can be overcome with your much better communication skills, it will almost certainly mean the company has some baggage to wade through. Poor experiences in the past will put other product team members on defense. You’ll have to play some politics and work extra heard on building rapport to get anywhere.

7. Who tends to offer the most resistance to UX recommendations and methods and why? Follow-up: And how much power does that person have?

Intent

This person will either give you the most grief or will give you the great opportunity to improve your communication skills (remember: design is communication!). Knowing who it is up front and how that person operates can tell you what the experience will be like.

Red Flag(s)

Executives, because they distrust UX. If you lack support at the top, it will be a daily struggle to achieve anything substantive.

8. What do UX practitioners here do to advance their values and methods beyond project work? Please be specific.

Intent

See how motivated the UX team is to perpetuate UX values to the rest of the company and improve how the team works.

Red Flag(s)

They don’t.

9. What do you think they should do differently? Why?

Intent

Discover how your interviewer feels about UX. This is, after all, a person who has a say in hiring you. Presumably, this person will be a big factor in your success.

Red Flag(s)

Keep their noses out of product development, stop telling the engineers what to do (speaks to perception of pushy UX people).

10. Describe a typical project process. (How does it start? What happens first? Next? And then?)

Intent

Find out if there is a process, what it looks like, and how well it aligns with your beliefs as a UX professional.

Red Flag(s)

You’ll be assigned projects from the top. You’ll research them, design a bunch of stuff in a vacuum with no way to validate and without any iteration method, and then you’ll hand all your work to the Engineering team, who will then have a thousand questions because you never spoke to each other until just now.

Bonus Question

How and when does the team try to improve on its process? (If it doesn’t, let’s call that a potential red flag as well.)

11. How has your company learned from its past decisions, and what have you done with those learnings?

Intent

UX is an everlasting experiment. Find out if this company understands it’s supposed to learn from the work and become smarter as a result.

Red Flag(s)

No examples, no thoughts.

12. If this is an agency who produces work for clients: What kind of support or backup does this agency provide for its UX recommendations, and how much power does the UX group have to push back against wrongheaded client ideas? Follow-ups: How does the team go about challenging those ideas? Provide a recent example.

Intent

Find out how often you’ll be thrown under the proverbial bus when a client pushes back against what you know to be the right approach to a given problem. Your job will be to make intelligence-based recommendations; don’t torture yourself by working with people who refuse to hear them.

Red Flag(s)

The interviewer says the agency does whatever the clients demand. You will be a glorified wireframe monkey with no real power to change the world for the better.

13. How does the company support the UX group’s work and methods?

Intent

Determine how the company as a whole thinks about UX, both as a team and a practice. Is UX the strange alien in the corner of the room, or is it embraced and participated in by every product team member?

Red Flag(s)

UX is a strange alien. Good luck getting anyone to listen to you.

14. What design tools (software) does your team use and why? Follow-ups: How receptive are people to trying new tools? How does evolution happen?

Intent

Know what software you should be familiar with, why the team uses it, and how you might go about introducing new tools that could be better in some situations.

Red Flag(s)

Gain insight into how the team thinks about the UI portion of the design process. Does it start with loose ideas drawn on napkins and gradually move toward higher-quality? Or does it attempt to start with perfection and end up throwing out a lot of work? (See the next question for more on this.)

15. Does a digital design start low-fi or high-fi, and what is the thinking behind this approach? Follow-up: If you start lo-if, how does a design progress?

Intent

You can waste a lot of hours on pixel-perfect work you end up throwing out. A company who burns through money like that is also going to be the first one to cut staff when things get tight. No idea should be carried through to its pixel-perfect end until it’s been collaborated on and vetted somehow, so you want to know that the company is smart enough to start lo-fidelity and move gradually to hi-fidelity. Hi-fi work should be the result of validation and iteration, not the start of it. A lo-fi > hi-fi process mitigates risk.

Red Flag(s)

All design work starts and ends in Photoshop or Sketch, and is expected to be 100% flawless and final before anyone sees what you’ve produced.

Running The Interview

In an unrelated Q&A years ago, a hiring manager asked how to spot a good UX professional during an interview. I answered that he should look for the person asking all the questions. I repeated this advice in Experience Required.

Now you can be the one asking all the questions.

And in doing so, not only will you increase your odds of being offered the gig, you’ll know long before the offer shows up whether to accept it.

If you, dear reader, have more ideas on how to scavenger-hunt a company’s red flags, we’re all ears. Tell us about it in the comments below.

(cc, il)