#like how dare i claim to have had such a personal interaction with a deity

[buildingunderstanding]

This morning I dreamt that someone recognized my Mjönir necklace and asked if I was a Norse Pagan, I told him, yes, I was and returned the question. At which point this man said, "Yeah, I am, but I don't really think the gods are how we think of them."

Naturally, I asked him to elaborate, and he basically said he believed that there was a span of time in which the Norse pantheon wasn't worshipped at all and it weakened the gods so much that they couldn't see us, even when present with us and that's why "they're just energies, they can't fully manifest yet". Apparently, my facial reaction spoke volumes because he got an attitude as was like, "Obviously, you disagree, so tell me what you think."

So I told him, I knew the gods could, in fact, see us. And when he cut me off with some snotty remark about the belief of the Christian God being omnipresent and omniscient, I admitted that yes, I am working on unpacking a lot of Christian beliefs, but, "I know the gods can see us because when I was doing research on Loki, and upon reading about how he stole a bloodstone from someone, he also stole one of mine. And it'd be really hard to steal the same crystal twice if he couldn't see us."

This guy kind of just stared at me for a moment before I shrugged and added, "Also I don't think they were ever not worshipped. Even if they we ere worshipped in secret, they've always been held in honor to someone."

[ethrenisnotthehero]

@hogwartsmystory is a predator (part 2)

If you haven’t read the first part of the callout, I encourage you to do so here. As before, the normal tags are not included in this post in order to allow this to reach as many people as possible. Potential triggers are listed below, and the main content is hidden to keep sensitive individuals from being unintentionally exposed. TW: Pedophilia, Abuse, Gaslighting, Sexual Assault, Self Harm, Suicide, NSFW Topics, Faked Illness, Faked Mental Illness, Faked Death, Victim Blaming

Ren met Jill sometime between December of 2013 and January of 2014. At the time, he was dating another staff member of the website who will be referred to as Buttercup from now on. Jill was vulnerable in some of the most classic ways a CSA survivor often is. Her home life was chaotic and difficult. She was just finishing middle school. Depression had started to surface, and, worst of all, she had just been diagnosed with a life-altering chronic disease that would require her to change significant aspects of her daily life just to survive. She just wanted a place to fit in and be welcomed, and fell into Ren’s lures without ever considering the danger that lurked behind the screen.

Up until now, it could be understandable to argue that Ren may not have been purposely grooming young girls. Creating a mature themed website might be creepy and inappropriate, but that doesn’t necessarily make someone a predator. No, what made Ren a predator were his motives, his goals, and his solicitation of vulnerable youth into grossly exploitative relationships. What remains the most disturbing to me is that his behavior consistently fits with the profile of an egomaniac desperate to have power over someone dependent on him, fitting textbook descriptions of the methods abusers employ in order to coax their victims in and trap them there.

The Act of Grooming, Part Two: Approach

Even though common luring methods of child predators are well-known within advocate and legal communities, the average person typically has neither heard of them nor is likely to recognize them as they happen. Some behaviors attached to common lures are easily identifiable: a stranger somehow uses a young child’s name to create familiarity and abducts them, or convinces a child that there are prizes to be had if they come along. Methods like these have names, and Ren is guilty of utilizing at least four to his advantage.

The Authority Lure

When Jill first told me about her first interactions with Ren, she was quick to note how starstruck she was with that fact that he wanted to talk to her at all. “I was surprised that admins even RPed down with their peasants on this site,” she told me. Interacting with staff on the site made her feel special and seen, and Ren was quick to start chatting with her. He had a particular interest in her character. Someone of great importance and authority on the site, going out of his way to interact with her out of all people. He held power over her (over most users on the site) and that was something he was keenly aware of. More sinisterly, not only did Ren himself have power over younger users, but he increased his reach and control through the creation of alternative identities. Ren’s main identities were Aaron, Seth, Carter, and Lauren, all of whom he used to form relationships with and manipulate different individuals on the site.

Seth and Carter’s accounts have since been deleted, so unfortunately I was not able to see what kind of people Ren made them out to be. However, he clearly made users believe that these were all existing people, and used their identities to build his authority. When everyone on staff is the same person, it doesn’t leave very much room for dissent.

As for Lauren? Lauren was Ren’s real identity, and the mastermind behind all of it.

As you can see in this post, as of November 11, 2013, Ren was 17 years old. Not only that, but he was in a position of power over children in real life, too. There’s no reason that Ren would not have known better; no one in that position would be able to have a relationship with a small child as a “mistake.” Frequently, Ren claimed to be a babysitter for kids as old as 14, which means that children were fully exposed to him on all fronts. Ignorance is not a viable excuse for him; there’s no way he didn’t realize what he was doing was wrong.

A person might argue that there’s no substantial proof that these identities are fake. That would be a valid question at this point. One of Ren’s supporters (and self-proclaimed partner) has admitted themselves that these “alternate personalities” did not exist. In an attempt to explain away Ren’s toxic behaviors, they offered up a Dissociative Identity Disorder diagnosis as a defense:

However, there’s one glaring issue with this claim. According to the DSM-5 classification of mental disorders by the American Psychiatric Association, amnesia must occur for a diagnosis of DID. Amnesia is defined by the DSM-5 as gaps in the recall of everyday events, important personal information, and/or traumatic events. Ren never experienced amnesia associated with the “switch” of an alter; in fact, he claimed that he and his friends would regularly do activities together, and would even communicate back and forth online with each other during the same lengths of time on AS as he switched between accounts.

I understand that everyone has different experiences with mental illness, and that illness does not have the same symptoms for every person. Regardless, Ren was clearly aware of his actions and the way he used his other accounts to lure/hurt users. Mental illness is not an excuse for hurting children, ever. Ren knew it then, and I can guarantee you he knows it now.

The Affection Lure

Another way predators appeal to their victims is with affection. Pedophiles take advantage of rocky home situations or difficult experiences to abuse the trust a child has placed in them. Jill came to know Ren well through their role-plays. They talked often. Ren made himself available to her, gave her comfort that she desperately needed, and even offered other friends who could be an ear or a shoulder to her. When Ren learned of Jill’s chronic illness, he connected her with Seth, another of his personalities. He coaxed Jill into trusting him, and their relationship became inappropriately intense. Most children are exploited by people that are close to them, by people who they trust and rely on.

At the time, Jill may not have realized how difficult her situation was for her. To her, the chaos of her family life may have seemed normal. Having to compete with siblings and neighborhood kids may have seemed normal. Falling into severe, deep depression may have seemed normal. The truth of the situation is that a vulnerable young woman was falling through the cracks, and Ren saw an opportunity to place himself as the most important person in her life. She needed to belong, so he made sure that she felt like she belonged with him. She needed to be heard, so he made sure that she felt like he was the only one who heard her. She needed friends, so he made sure that all her friends were him. 

Not only did he use her trust in him to groom her for a relationship, but he used it to isolate her. If everyone she knew was him, then he would be the only positive feature in her life. If everyone else was an enemy, then she would have nowhere to turn to but him. If he convinced her that she was his world, and that he was hers, she would never believe anyone trying to warn her about him and his behavior. Ren took advantage of a 14 year old child’s insecurities and sickness to insert himself as the most important aspect of her life.

There’s plenty of evidence that this wasn't the first time he’d thought of something like this, either. Ren had an obsession with themes of abuse, torture, and child slavery in his stories and role-plays. Much of his content centered around taking advantage of vulnerable people.

It wasn’t just his role-play ideas that crossed the line. His behavior toward other members of the site was hair-raising at best. His supporters try to paint him as someone affectionate and well-meaning, but he had habits of talking to young users in a manner that borders on profiling.

These aren’t things that someone a few months short of their eighteenth birthday should be saying to children on the internet. His behavior also delved into the realm of victim blaming, too; when a minor on the site was posting about their father going out of his way to make custody as complicated and as disruptive as possible, Ren had this to say:

A man, who would have been 18 at the time, with the audacity to imply that a child was to blame for the controlling behavior of their father. That their father only loved them, and that they might have done something to make a grown man act like a petty child during a divorce.

Ren’s idea of love was as toxic as his need for power.

The Hero Lure

This is, perhaps, the lure that Ren is mostly guilty of. An egomaniac soothed by his own words, Ren saw himself as a hero. In his own mind, he was a faultless deity who deserved no less than the complete and undivided affections of his subjects, but who fabricated false identities at every opportunity. In Ren’s mind, he is the hero. The survivors of his abuse are turned to abusers, those who dare question him are nothing but petty liars, and anyone not completely enthralled by him is nothing but an extra in his story. That’s what Ethren was created to emulate.

Ren has not grown. Someone who has grown would take ownership of their mistakes and apologize for the pain they had caused. Someone truly sorry, truly changed, wouldn’t dare to trample on the feelings of people they had hurt. Ren is no different now than he was six years ago, when he made the decision to change Jill’s life. Instead, he’s turned a survivor into the villain of his world. Instead, he faked his own death so that he could start over with his reputation on AS intact. He never accepted what he did, and instead continues to paint Jill as someone who needed to be “fixed.”

Wanting to be with someone because it feeds a need to “fix” or “help” someone isn’t love. It’s an adult man putting the weight of the world on the shoulders of a little girl. A girl already struggling to adapt. A girl already struggling to fit in. A girl who spent her second week of high school hospitalized because of a sickness that would change her life forever. Jill is a person; she’s a person who’s had to learn to live with restrictions that mean the difference between life and death. She’s a person who’s had to walk alone through the past six years battling depression and trauma completely unheard and unseen. She’s not a character in Ren’s world. She’s not some fixation to help him feel better about himself. 

Jill is a real, living, breathing human being with thoughts and feelings and a future: a future that Ren has done him damn best to make about himself for the past six years.

Ren never wanted to help anyone. Ren needed to feel important to other people to have some kind of meaning to himself. His obsession with playing hero went so far that he would torment his victims just so that he could swoop in and be what they needed. He would pretend to be sick or injured. He would go from having a cold, to strep, to pneumonia in under a day.

He would suddenly need a nebulizer for breathing treatments for his false illnesses.

His friends and loved ones would suddenly have life-threatening medical conditions and need to be taken to the hospital.

He pretended to have cancer.

He would use his identities to threaten self harm or death. He used Seth to tell Jill that he was going to send someone to kill her, making her scared for her own life. He made her a part of a world where he was the only one who could help her to satisfy his own sick need to be the most important thing to someone else.

When life caught up to him, he pretended to die.

He knew what he was doing was wrong. He asked Jill to lie about her age and told her that if anyone ever found out about them, he would get in trouble. He used his status as her hero to solicit sexual content online. He knew her age, knew how vulnerable she was, and knew how desperately she needed to fit in. He took advantage of that to fill his own desperate need to be the hero.

The legal age where a person can consent in Jill’s country is 16. When they officially began dating, she was 14. Ren was 18. He was an adult four years older than her, who would have faced charges of child abuse in his own state for their relationship. They had a sexual relationship online, which would be equivalent to soliciting child porn in his state. She never cheated on him; he was her world, because he made every effort to make sure that he was.

She never even saw his face.

She never even knew his real name.

She grappled for years afterwards with trauma, and he wouldn’t even give her the decency of having peace when they finally split. Instead, he came here with his stories. He wrote up fantasies where he was the hero, and she was the one who abused him. Jill was still a minor at the end of her relationship. When I asked her if she’s gotten help, she didn’t think a therapist would take her seriously. Ren took her ability to trust her own voice from her. He took her ability to believe that her own problems were valid. He took six years of her life and made it hell for the sake of his own ego and vanity. Pedophiles will often lie about their age, but most of them make it clear that they’re adults. Their true age might vary by four to five years (like in Ren’s case of claiming to be 21 at 17), but they always make it very clear that they’re adults. Predators know what they’re doing. They’re master manipulators. They’re adept at communication. They seem innocent on the surface, until everything they’ve done is laid out where it can be seen for what it is. Predators rely on persuasion, not coercion (Abrams 2016).

Someone I know asked me if I ever considered, even briefly, that Jill wasn’t telling the truth. I answered back without hesitation that I never did, not even once, because I hadn’t even touched one of the most important parts of my research.

Like other predators, Ren had a type. Buttercup was his first victim. When she and Ren met she was only 13-- Just like Jill.

Continue to Part 3

[my-writings-and-musings]

I have another lovely commission to share with you all! An awesome person wanted a super cute bit of interaction between Springload and Quillfire, so here it is!

Quillfire tried to keep the frown on his face from appearing too off putting as he left the base behind, keeping pace with Springload but ensuring the two of them had considerable personal space at the same time. To the benefit of their mission Earth's forests offered ample cover all around, ensuring neither had anything to fear in regards to detection. Though, to the anarchist, potential discovery was the least of his concerns. His last parting with the other mech had been under less than amicable terms, so he was fully anticipating a very unpleasant mission. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn Springload was planning to ditch him at the nearest opportunity. Such a prediction seemed more likely than not considering how the amphibicon had a tendency towards the dramatic. Was he going to be accused of defying invisible spirits, or sullying important signals from some great deity before he was exposed to corrosive attacks? It all seemed equally probable...

Frowning a little harder, he watched Springload hop ahead of him and wondered if this mission would end in failure like the last. They'd been up against considerable odds, and things weren looking much better. Steeljaw had been very insistent on them teaming up, so he had a bit of hope this would go well, but-

Crossing his arms, he huffed quietly to himself as he abandoned the train of thought, plodding along behind his chosen partner all the while. Why should he be the one to mend things? More importantly, why did he want to? There were a million other activities he could be doing at the moment, all of them more conducive to speeding up a revolution than this! Just imagining all the injustice on this backwards planet made his quills twitch with unease. Oh, how he longed to tear down the tyranny that was evident around every corner-

"Can you move more swiftly?" Springload barked back at him unexpectedly, hopping along through the forest at a pace few could match with a mere walk. Admittedly though, Quillfire was lagging behind as he mused over his unhappy thoughts. The amphibicon fixed him with an impatient glare. "The sooner this mission is completed, the sooner I may return to my quest!" 

Quillfire obeyed with a gulp, a reaction so out of character for himself he didn't know what to make of it. For some unfathomable reason, he wanted to make peace with this bot, and he was stuck with that. Perhaps he just didn't want to endure an entire mission tainted by awkward silences and angry glares, but what could possibly make things amicable between them? This bot wanted nothing but the treasure of a fabled city that didn't exist, how was he supposed to provide anything like that? Perhaps… just some conversation might do the trick? If only to lighten the mood...

As they came to a road that marked the next leg of their mission, he made an effort to think of something to say as the amphibicon pondered their map, as well as the instructions they'd been given.

"Steeljaw instructed us to wait here and construct an ambush site. When the human transport arrives, we are to steal their cargo…" he said, finishing the statement with a most distasteful croak. Clearly, his fellow bot was not especially interested in the mission either, and likely was imagining countless other ways his time could be better spent. Such was a common feeling at their rank, and he did truly share most of the frustration. With that as a starting point, Quillfire imagined they may have some common ground after all. 

"I will keep watch on the road, so that you might strike at the most opportune time!" he declared boldly, emphasizing his faith in the others skills. It wasn't even a stretch, as he firmly believed the other was more than capable of getting this done. Looking up and down the simple paved path to ensure he had a good vantage point, he found one in the form of a sheltered outcrop. Looking to Springload for a reaction the entire time, he smirked confidently and clamored up to the flat bit of earth above the road, gesturing to the wide field of observable forest as he did so. "We will claim our quarry with a single attack, and return victorious!"

Springload merely observed him with a blink of apathetic consideration. "Yes, indeed." he said simply, hopping into position and making sure to face away from his teammate when he did so. Pulling out the holo of his supposed map, he began to study it as he always did, scanning the runes for what had to be the millionth time. A terse tone made his feelings on any future reconciliation clear. "Then I may continue my quest for Doradas, alone."

The anarchist's quills sagged at the turn of events. While he hadn't been expecting immediate friendship, he also hadn't anticipated that the other mech would be so openly hostile to any kind of amicable teamwork, and found himself quite disappointed by the lack of success. For whatever reason, he just wanted Springload to like him, and failing at that was bothering him. I'm fact, it was bad enough that some part of him just refused to accept the defeat. There had to be a way he could earn the other's camaraderie. Considering how much time they still had left before their mission began, he had a good window in which to ponder a solution. 

Sitting back on the soft grass, he put a hand to his chin in intense thought. Springload himself only openly cared about one thing, and he didn't know him well enough to be aware of any other likes or interests… Casting a glance at the amphibicon, he felt his processor buzzing at the strain of thinking so hard to produce no results. He simply didn't know anything about geography, archeology, linguistics or any other topic which might help the other mech in his quest. The thought that he might not be able to do anything ate at him much more than it should have. It was enough to make him sigh sadly to himself at the hopelessness of it all.

"Do you see something?" Springload asked, mistaking his small sound for a potential signal. Embarrassed and surprised, Quillfire coughed and babbled out an excuse as fast as he could come up with one.

"Ah… no! I simply mistook a… an organic being for the target!" he explained lamely, not even believing himself. Springload arched an optic ridge, looking as incredulous as he did frustrated at the false alarm. Quillfire laughed awkwardly to clear the air, shrinking down beneath the edge of the outcrop to disappear from view. A dissatisfied croak let him know the outburst was thoroughly not appreciated. 

Frowning miserably to himself, the anarchist occupied his lonesome by doodling in the dirt at his pedes, practicing his signature mark as he often did while thinking. What was he supposed to do? Apologies were not in his nature, least of all because he didn't want to give them. As a loner he just didn't have much practice saying he was sorry to anyone. Ordinarily he was busy disrupting systems of power, overthrowing tyrannical systems, or freeing trapped souls with no one else to save them… Thoughts and feelings like these were too new for him to know what to do with them.

Thinking hard, he tried to come up with something he could do to earn the favor of the other mech, but still came up short. It was frustrating enough to make him draw more aggressively, because deep down he was certain there had to be a way to succeed. Springload wasn't too different from himself, after all. A lone mech, seeking his goals, using his natural gifts and weapons to take down those who opposed him…

Just as he was about to growl to himself at his failure to be inspired, his digit bumped against something in the soft earth. Without anything better to do, he slowly went about digging the object free. A flash of a white, shiny exterior motivated him to continue. Briefly forgetting about his troubles, he dug until a dirty but visibly solid object began to reveal its shape. Round and about the size of his palm, a glossy white stone came from the dirt without too much fuss, and he smiled at the small accomplishment. It was a rather lovely treasure for such a simple planet.

Just as he began to dust some of the remaining dirt from the granite or quartz exterior, he was struck by an idea, one so foolish he had to wonder how it could work.  

Still, he was a champion of crazy ideas, so he dared to consider it. 

Springload was a mech who one could describe as… extravagant, both in mission and mind. He required one to go all out, as he never held back in regards to the quest that he'd dedicated his entire life to completing. Overall, he was just an unusual bot. Perhaps, if Quillfire was thinking this through properly, that meant he could be reasoned with through some unusual means?

Tilting the rounded stone in his servo, he dared to believe a simple yet unusual gift would be enough to at least get the two of them started on a path to mending their teamwork. If nothing else, he'd at least get to tell himself he tried. The hardest part would be working up the courage to begin, but hopefully after that things would be easier. He just needed to take that first step…

Peeking over the edge of the outcrop, he saw that the amphibicon was in the same place he'd last been, reading over his map and murmuring to himself. Despite having read it every day for eons, the dedicated bot didn't look the least bit uninterested in his work. If anything, he looked downright eager, as if on the verge of a breakthrough at any given time. Quillfire hoped interrupting him wouldn't cause an even greater rift to form. 

Clearing his vents, he found his pump pounding with unnatural anxiety as he forced his voice box to speak up, his servos almost trembling about the stone as he took a considerable leap of faith.

"S-Springload?" he finally croaked out, nearly losing his nerve when the other mech looked up to him with painfully obvious annoyance. Gulping, he overcame his anxiety to speak up and stand tall to appear more confident than he felt.  "Can you… come up here? There is something you must see!"

Brightly colored optics widened, then fixed him with a look equal parts incredulous and irritated. "Is it important?"

"Very!" he insisted, sounding honest because he truly meant it with all of his spark. What could be more important than mending his fued with a fellow teammate?

In a single hop, Springload tucked away his map and cleared the entire road, landing just before Quillfire with a graceful thud. 

"I, er…" he stammered as the silliness of what he was about to do hit him in full. Unable to remember the last time he had given or received anything, he was without a clue as to what to say, so he simply held out the stone in his cupped palms with an attempt at a smile. There was a perceptible tremble in his arms as he did so, but he remained strong. "I believe I'm supposed to give this to you!" 

Springload didn't immediately react beyond a raised brow, so he stammered forth more of an explanation, spark sinking in his chest. "As a s-sign of… teamwork."

"A white stone?" the amphibicon said at last, as if awakening from a light trance. Taking the rock carefully into his large servo, all while ensuring his acidic coat didn't touch the other mech, he held the item aloft into the light. Just seeing him interested made the anarchist dare to hope things might work out, but in his wildest of dreams he'd never have anticipated what happened next. Springload lit up like a mech beholding a Prime out of the blue, his optics turning away from the stone for just a moment. 

"Just the same as those that line the gates of Doradas!" he exclaimed in awe.

Quillfire didn't have any response for that, good or bad as it may have been.

"What?"

"The sacred text makes it clear!" he shouted in explanation, bringing forth his scroll of indecipherable runes as if it made everything make sense. Gesturing to the lines of what Springload saw as gibberish, he began to proclaim their meaning with enthusiasm, optics wide and wild. "You see, here?! The gates of the Holy City will be lined with pure stones to mark the way!" 

"I'm…" was all he could reply with, still a million miles behind the other mech in regards to understanding. While he'd hoped at most for appreciation or a mere thanks, Springload looked about ready to burst with excitement, and for reasons he couldn't even begin to comprehend. At the very least he figured he should be happy for the turn of events when he was surprised yet again. 

"But how could you know?" Springload pressed, catching him more than a little off guard. Holding up his servos in surrender, Quillfire tried to figure out what exactly he was supposed to have known, and how he might have gone about figuring it out. He'd just thought it was pretty and would make a decent gesture of peace! Fumbling for a response so as not to lose his progress, he was saved by another burst of revelation he had no part in.

"Of course, the spirits!" he exclaimed, almost dropping the rock in his excitement. Clasping his servos over the apparently precious gift, he explained his excitement more or less by simply talking aloud to himself. "They must have guided you, enabling you to find such a sacred object, so that you could gift it to me!"

Accepting he would never truly understand, Quillfire only smiled and nodded at the other's exuberance. More than happy things had turned out so well, he was content to let the other mech believe whatever he wanted, even if he didn't follow it. "Of course!"

"As to why they would do this… they must know you are key to my quest!" Springload continued, using an avid free servo to clasp the other mech's arm in a sign of commitment. More surprised than confused, the anarchist tilted his helm in shock at how fast things had changed between them. Just like that, everything that had happened was forgiven? More than forgiven, in fact, he was seen as a friend and ally? It didn't seem inaccurate to say he was also being looked at as a divine being at the moment. By the Primes, this bot was like no other!

"I was a fool! To think, I tried to push you away!" the amphibicon cried, deactivating his acid so he could better cling to the taller mech. Seeing the emotion in his eyes, Quillfire wondered if he might start weeping, and hoped it wouldn't come to such a show. Not only was he not the best at providing comfort, he didn't have any tissues… Mercifully, the big optics looking into his seemed to sparkle with jubilation rather than tears.

"Ah, it's really nothing…" Quillfire reassured, beginning to blush from the high praise. A spare servo massaged the back of his neck in an open show of bashful deflection. Such a small thing hardly felt worthy of this kind of praise, even for a mech as glory seeking as himself. Not that he was disliking this turn of events.

"It's everything!" Springload corrected, emphatic and no longer impatient. "You must have been sent into my life by the spirits themselves!"

Actively blushing at that, the anarchist looked away, rubbing harder at the back of his neck. He hadn't a clue what to do with this newfound respect and admiration. Perhaps the other bot was just having a momentary burst of affection, which would give way as soon as the next symbol or sign grabbed his attention, but at present such a turn seemed beyond doubtful. Quillfire was being regarded in a way typically saved for the most ancient and holy of altars to the Primes. In the depths of his spark, he wanted it to last.

A distant but heavy sound caught his sharp audials, just as the tremor sensitive Springload perked up in synchronized recognition. Something was rumbling its way down the primitive earth road. Recalling their mission so fast his quills flared in alarm, the anarchist stood up to his full height, catching a glimpse of a truck through the densely packed pines. Their target was approaching fast. Worse, they were in no position to intercept it as planned. 

Thinking fast, Quillfire pulled one of his namesake weapons from his back, preparing to strike as the unknowing human drove their way. 

"I shall block the path." he announced, redirecting their strategy from before to include himself. Business came first for them both, so each was ready in an instant. Springload crouched low on his powerful legs in anticipation of his orders, which came just as the truck began barreling down the final stretch in their direction, multiple tons on a solid course they needed to stop. "You, render it motionless once it is stopped."

An agreeable ribbit communicated hearty understanding in the final moments before their strike. 

While massive by earth standards, the truck was small enough for Quillfire to plan his moves without much of a risk. Still, he was careful in his timing, as the cargo was as valuable as it was delicate. Any great crash would render it useless. Their success hinged on him being precise more than cautious, so he waited for the perfect amount of distance to be between himself and his target before he leapt down into the asphalt below. 

Well practiced using his own weapons, he tossed his quill just ahead of the already braking truck, funneling their path to the point of nonexistence. With nowhere to go, the driver was forced to slam on the brakes and skid to a stop, not having the option to go around or turn back. Quillfire smirked in pride at the human's textbook reaction, and could have sworn he heard Springload give a cheer at his victory. Near victory, that was, there was still one crucial step for them to see through.

"Now!" he ordered as the multiple tire sets came to a stop just shy of him. With the speed of someone working on the same page, the amphibicon dove from his perch, shooting his tongue out like a whip. Acid and force popped the tires in rapid succession, filling the air with a series of bangs and creaks until the heavy machine collapsed onto nothing but it's hubcaps. Rubber flew in every direction and nothing even resembling tires remained to spin, leaving multiple tons collapsed on the asphalt. The truck would not be going anywhere. 

"A clean victory!" Springload declared happily, still clutching his gift as he hopped back beside Quillfire. "Truly, the spirits are on our side in full. You are their greatest emissary."

Beaming at the praise, Quillfire turned when he heard the door of the vehicle opening up. Both mech's turned just as the human driver jumped from the vehicle, landing in a heap on the ground as he did so. Catching their mutual gaze, the tiny being threw up his hands in surrender, wide eyed and terrified as could be. A gigantic, metallic frog and an even bigger metal porcupine had not been mentioned when he'd taken the job. 

"Look, I'm n-not paid enough for this!" he stammered, gesturing wildly to the trailer as he slowly stepped backwards on shaking legs. Giving up the goods completely for his own sake, he unknowingly earned the approval of a certain anarchist. Abandoning one's shackles for self preservation was a key tactic, and he smiled as the human gave them both full clearance, dropping his keys on the spot. "Just take the truck! A-all of it!"

"We shall, your cooperation is appreciated." Springload replied, sounding a bit haughty. In truth the human's cooperation meant little; either mech was fully capable of taking what they wanted without much effort. Happy just to see someone making the right choices, Quillfire praised and comforted the terrified earthling in what he considered to be the best way.  

"Fear not, brother. You have been liberated from the bonds of oppressive labor!" he encouraged, presenting the human with a smile of reassurance. Reacting with what he presumed to be unfathomable joy, the tiny being turned about and began to sprint, disappearing into the trees with a considerable ruckus of breaking branches and fussing animals. Screams of jubilation began echoing out after he was long gone from sight.

Waving the lucky one off, Quillfire smiled at the impossible fortune this day had brought him, happy to share it with others. If humans could figure out the true way to live, perhaps there was yet hope for them. He dared to believe as much while shouting after the former truck driver. "Go forth, tiny earthling! Enjoy the freedom we have given you!"

Turning back to the work yet to be completed, he found Springload using his selectively acidic touch to melt through the lock of the truck's trailer, his gift still peeking out through his other servo's protective grip. Marveling at how the other mech seemed intent on believing his truth, Quillfire still decided to let it be. Though happy just to be friends, it was quite likely this was just how things worked for such a dramatic bot. He was surprised how he was beyond accepting of such a concept, and in fact, quite looking forward to it. 

As the doors opened, the two of them found a rather manageable cluster of boxes secured tightly to avoid damaging movement. Comfortable as the load would have been for two bots, it doubtlessly was too much for one, yet Springload began freeing it from its bonds with a smile. 

"Allow me to carry this burden, great one! It is the least I can offer!" he said eagerly, tucking his stone away into a subspace beside his spark. Cutting their payload free, he began to move the boxes happily outside, no doubt planning to pile them all into his altmode. While usually happy to get some time off, Quillfire didn't feel right about leaving the other mech to handle it all. Their new partnership deserved to get off to a much better start than that. 

"I can help." he reassured simply, taking his fair share of the boxes to carry in his hands. Though the smaller mech needed his altmode to handle his share, he didn't allow transforming to stop his eager chatting, and continued to extoll the virtues of his new ally as a happy pickup truck. 

"Such generosity!" he praised, putting along to leave the abandoned truck behind them. Though a little overwhelmed by the idea of someone seeing him as a bona fide gift from ancient deities, he allowed the other mech's chatter to fill the walk home, finding it to be far better than the awkward silence that had followed them here. Who ever would have been able to guess a mere stone could change so much? 

"I shall have to insist we are partnered together for future endeavors! As two individuals chosen by the spirits, our camaraderie can bring only success!" Springload gushed, turning about happily on his bouncing tires. "Would that please you, great one? I am certain riches will come to us both!"

Though he still had his own dreams, Quillfire didn't indeed find the idea of more missions like this very agreeable, so much so that he had no problem smiling in affirment. 

"Riches indeed, my new friend!" 

[ranier-layarte]

LONG Character Survey: Ranier Leveilleur

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Ranier Kyran Layarte Leveilleur

NICKNAME: Ran, Raven

AGE: 21-25 (depending on expac)

BIRTHDAY: 1st Sun of the 2nd astral moon

ETHNIC GROUP: Au ra (Xaela)

NATIONALITY: Eorzean – From Ul'dah

LANGUAGE(S): Eorzean,

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: No

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Isn't this the same as the above?

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married

CLASS: Weapon Master

• Proficient in almost all martial weapons.

• Tends to carry multiple weapons at all times.

• Prefers Axes out of all the bladed weaponry

HOMETOWN / AREA: Ul'dah

CURRENT HOMETOWN/ AREA: Shirogane Mansion

PROFESSION(S): WoL, Scion, Machinist, Businessman, Crafter

PHYSICAL: Extremely fit, exercises daily. Muscular build

HAIR: Black/Dark Blue

EYES: Crimson

NOSE: Average, straight, roman-esque

FACE: Straight essentially a greek nose. (At least if I had to try and describe it)

LIPS: A bit on the thinner side, very lightly pink.

COMPLEXION: A mix of Fair and Medium?

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: Scar on left thigh from stab wound, Scar on left midsection, and upper right thigh.

TATTOOS: WoL tattoo on the palm of his right hand. (Working on giving him another)

HEIGHT: 7'4

WEIGHT: 330 LBS/ 150kg

BUILD: Tall, Muscular, Fit,

FEATURES: None

ALLERGIES: None, at least not yet.

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Long hair parted in the middle framing the face. Pulled into a ponytail and held with a silver bead big enough for the tail.

USUAL FACE LOOK: Around 40% expressionless, 30% Scowling, 20% Reflective, 10% happy.

USUAL CLOTHING: Higher end clothing generally a mix of casual with formal preferring long pants and a short sleeved shirt. Boots of some kind and armor of some kind at all times. Either under or over the clothes having a preference for the bulkier armors.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Dying and thereby becoming unable to prevent future deaths and incidents. A fear of the unknown. (Which is part of why he tries to prepare for so many things)

ASPIRATION(S): Being able to amass enough wealth to live comfortably and to continue making the lives of the less fortunate easier. Helping create a better society for all.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Empathetic, Compassionate, Humanitarian, Perseverance, Fairness, Courageous, Loving, Self discipline, Reliable, Thoughtful, Patient

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Bossy, Jealous, Secretive, Grumpy, Harsh, Aloof, Stubborn, Cruel (Only to enemies but that doesn't really matter to people does it?) Arrogant (In some things though less now)

ZODIAC: Pisces

TEMPERAMENT: Mix of choleric and melancholic.

SOUL TYPE(S):  King, Warrior, Server (In that order)

ANIMALS: Raven, Bear

VICE HABIT(S): Training, Fixing machines, Drinking, Rubbing Chin, 

FAITH: The Twelve (Loosely)

GHOSTS?: I mean if you've seen them you can't deny them.

AFTERLIFE?: With everything we see there has to be right?

REINCARNATION?: Yes, it's clear there is.

ALIENS?: Yes.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Leftist

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: Prosperous, everyone has what they need. Along with the means to go beyond that if they are willing and able.

SOCIO POLITICAL POSITION: I think there’s enough to go on.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Higher end of the spectrum, attended sharlayan schooling for a few years of his life. (Around three) Was home taught and by other teachers. Extensive knowledge in numerous subjects such as Machinery, Technology, Gunsmithing, Gemology, Business. Holding the equivalent of a mixture of Graduate or Masters in the subjects.

FAMILY.

FATHER: Kyran Layarte

MOTHER: Sahar Layarte

SIBLINGS: Kyari Layarte

EXTENDED FAMILY:

NAME MEANING(S): Ranier (Rainier with out the first I Meaning Wise army apparently)Kyran (Beam of Light) Sahar (Early morning or Dawn) Kyari (???)

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: My families connection to history? My connection? My father was one of the survivors of the hotgo tribe also. Does fighting in the Calamity among all the other events count?

FAVORITES.

BOOK: Whatever has his current interest, it can very.

MOVIE PLAY: Does this mean Movie or Play?

5 SONGS:

• “Shock me” Baroness

• “Up In The Air” Thirty Seconds To Mars

• “Rise” League of Legends, Glitch Mob, The Word Alive

• “Unbreakable” Of Mice and Men

• “Drown” Bring Me The Horizon

DEITY: Halone

HOLIDAY: Valentione's day

MONTH: March

SEASON: Fall

PLACE: Beside his wife or workshop.

WEATHER: Light rain

SOUND: The turning of pages, the sound of rain, metal moving against each other.

SCENT(S): Smoke, Metal, Old books, and sweat

TASTE(S):  Dulcet, Spicy,

FEEL(S): Rocks, Silk, Smooth metals,

ANIMAL(S): This was listed before.

NUMBER: 1? I don't know.

COLORS: Black, Blue, Red, Gold, Silver

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Metalworking, Singing, Sewing, Gem Cutting, Technology, Smithing, Machinery, Dexterous.

BAD AT: Getting rest even now, Not over exerting himself, Not overthinking potential scenarios that may never happen. Dealing with almost all animals, Even now sometimes talking about what bothers him too well, but he’s gotten much better over the years/expansions.

TURN ONS: Caring, Helpful, Courageous, Educated, Aggressive. Listening, Reliable, 

TURN OFFS: Selfishness, Boastful, Belligerent, Cruelty, Intolerant, Racism, Weak willed, Careless,

HOBBIES: Creating new things be it machines, armor, clothes, weapons, tools, etc. Working on the same as before. Reading, Exercising, Cooking. Shopping.

TROPES: Pragmatic Hero, Bad ass boast, Big Fancy House, Chekhov's Gun, Determinator, Don't You Dare Pity Me, Genius Bruiser, Heroic Build, It's All My Fault, No Challenge Equals No Satisfaction, Super toughness, Friend to All Children, The Chosen One, The Ace, Ain't Too Proud To Beg, Always Save The Girl, Berserk Button, Death glare, Excuse me while I multi task, Game face, Hypocrite, Lady and Knight, Not So Stoic, Not So Invincible After all, Red Eyes, Take Warning, Stern Teacher, Undying Loyalty, The Power of Love

AESTHETIC TAGS: Workshops, Tools, Kitchens, Weaponry, Guns, Armor, Fine Clothes, Rain, Feathers, Azure Skies, Romance.

VOICE CLAIM(S): Keith Silverstein, (Speaking voice) John Rzeznik (Singing) John Baizley (Singing)

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC(S): Free company? Azure Talons.

ALT FC(S): What?

OLDER FC(S): What?

YOUNGER  FC(S): What?

GENDERBENT FC(S): What the fuck?

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: IF YOU COULD WRITE YOUR CHARACTER YOUR WAY IN THEIR OWN MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED, WHAT STYLE WOULD IT BE FILMED IN, AND WHAT WOULD IT BE ABOUT?:

• I genuinely don’t know. Something with the grandeur of lord of the rings maybe? But with the ability to add comedy and romance in the proper way. I'm all for serious movies but I enjoy the ability to add a well executed joke or sweet moment. It also would probably not just be a single film. Taking the general events and using my fics as material would probably be fine.

I’d have to think about it a lot more than I will right now

As for the name, well, I don't really have many options. But, probably something with Final Fantasy XIV as the main title. Give it a JRPG title I suppose as a sub title. Sort of like Warriors Dissonance or Uncovered Stories.

Q2: WHAT WOULD THEIR SOUNDTRACK / SCORE SOUND LIKE?:

• Ambient, switching to full of energy, able to convey emotion. Again mentioning LOTR, the score by Howard shore is really great and able to accompany many scenes in such a fantastic manner. As for the other bits perhaps the addition of artist tracks such as from favorite bands and those songs that have meaning to him. Like the ones listed above. 

Q3: WHY DID YOU START WRITING THIS CHARACTER?:

• As a way to work on and show that, a character doesn't just have to be overly reliant on tropes and cliches. That those are good as part of them but not as defining traits of them. Along with breaking some of those. Like how all protagonists always have dead parents, what's up with that? I enjoy seeing characters that try to break their molds and be more than that.

Q4: WHAT FIRST ATTRACTED YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?:

• My general thing in any game where you can create your own character has always been. To make who you'd want to be in this universe. I did that and then worked on it and reworked things until I got what I have now. So also, yes, he was a self insert.

Q5: DESCRIBE THE BIGGEST THING YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR MUSE:

• Hard one I suppose but. I'd say how he is capable of doing so much. Even though I work with it as it is a key part of him, it's still hard to make him feel right, feel human when he's got these clear incredible strengths. He's very proficient at so many things some would maybe say he's a mary sue type of character. I make an effort to work on how he became that way to offset it. So it's a lot of extra work than if I had him being a more archetypal hero of his type. I may dislike this the most but I also like it. Love hate relationship you know?

Q6: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN COMMON WITH YOUR MUSE?:

• A good part of our attitudes and personality though on his end they are greater generally. Along with our want to be as best as we can at certain things. 

Q7: HOW DOES YOUR MUSE FEEL ABOUT YOU?:

• Honestly, and in my current state. He would probably be very upset with me and to just know me or the hand I have in his creation and self.

Q8: WHAT CHARACTERS DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS WITH?

• Alisaie Leveilleur – She is the main one being his main love interest, girlfriend, and wife later. Though overall he sees her as an equal and a partner, which is part of the reason their relationship grows as much as it does. Along with giving someone who he can trust in and rely on, and vice versa.

• Finn Hogveart - Who harasses Ranier often enough especially with his pet and regarding moogles.

• Alphinaud Leveilleur - and him sometimes get along strangely due to Ranier's relationship with his sister. For a long time he tried to spy on Ranier and make sure he was good for his sister even though he knew he was a good person.

•  Cid Garlond - Ranier sees him as a mentor of sorts, along with someone that he can bounce ideas off of and work with on projects leading to a solid relationship between the two. The two sometimes bicker regarding their work but it's always just them being passionate for the projects.

• Gerolt Blackthorn – Similar to cid in some ways. Ranier looks up to Gerolt and his ability to continue making such amazing creations. Wanting to learn more regarding the processes means Ranier visits him when possible, bringing some drinks for him when he does. Almost having a relationship like bros. Ranier also sometimes has gone to try and sway Rowena on his behalf to lower his debt.

There are more but I don’t want to make this too much longer.

Q9: WHAT GIVES YOU INSPIRATION TO WRITE YOUR MUSE?

• I do not control the write, also Alisaie.

Q10: HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE YOU TO COMPLETE?:

Uhhhh maybe an hour all together. Over the course of three hours.

==========

Tagged by: @amandafullmetal​ @lyllyan-weiss

Tagging: @heyafinney​ @anikisbox​ and anyone who wants to do it that sees this.

[teabooksandsweets]

The Horse and His Boy has always been one of my favourite Narnia books, and I am glad to say that this hasn't changed at all. It's also by far my favourite title. In fact, I dare say, it's my favourite book title in general, not only out of the Narnia books.

I love the way this book is written, from its style through its structure to its characterization. Having read the series only in the chronological order before, it's really interesting to see how Lewis' writing evolved over the course of the series. I can't say it got better, as it was wonderful from the very beginning on, but there is a visible sort of development, which is especially apparent in the characters and world building.

I love the way Shasta/Cor and Aravis are written – both of them are lovely people, but their behaviour is awfully much influenced from their upbringing and experiences. Shasta's distrust in other people, which lead to a sort of selfishness, and Aravis' privileged aloofness, which lead to a sort of ruthlessness – both of which they slowly but steadily grow out – are not part of their natural personalities, not part of their souls, but of what they are taught to be. Both of them have practically opposite backgrounds, but they come down to the same thing: In order to dare to be as good as they truly are, they need to learn about the good in others, and learn to believe in it. They make a wonderful pair. I also very much adore the horses – Hwin's gentle steadfastness and Bree's pompous fallacy are wonderfully written. It's especially of note that, despite them being Talking Horses, Lewis truly showed that he knew horses, and how to write them. They didn't feel like humans in horse bodies – they were truly horses. I also love the other two kids – in some ways, Corin and Lasaraleen are even more charming than the protagonists, although I don't like them more (or less) than them. They are lovable and engaging side characters and simply a joy to read about. I even think they'd get along really well – not at first, certainly not, but they both have such amazing temperaments that would at least be very entertaining to watch interacting. I also really loved the Hermit. He's a fascinating character and I would love to know more about him. I wonder, if maybe he is also a Star or some other, well, unusual person. That aside, it was lovely to see the adult Pevensies – they all were exactly what they were. Susan, the Gentle Queen who didn't fight though she could, and Lucy the Valiant in chain mail and helmet, Peter the Magnificent fighting giants, and Edmund the Just making peace and plans.

In fact – it's lovely to see a glimpse of the Golden Age, which brings me back the extended world building. In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the land and time of Narnia were so full of a very particular, tight sort of magic and enchantment. We knew little of the times before, and even less of the lands beyond. At that point, the World of Narnia and the Land of Narnia could have been one and the same, or else, if there had been more lands, they could also been enchanted. And then, all the more of that world we saw was so, so much later. It's amazing to actually see a story happen just a few years after the Long Winter, in two completely different countries, that existed beside Narnia all the time. Just think of it! According to Lewis' own timeline, the events in this book happened fourteen years after the Pevensies came to Narnia, so the children had not been born at that time, but all the adults we see had. There has been normal life in these countries all that time, and for some reason that does feel quite amazing to me, although I can't really explain how and why. It's just a really different feeling for the story – not better or worse, just different. It's also interesting to read a story from the perspective of characters who were born in the World of Narnia, and even more so to read one from the perspective of characters who didn't grow up in the Land of Narnia. It's the only book with no relation to our world, and that's very intriguing.

My favourite scene? I don't know. Probably Aslan's appearances in various shapes. His role was quite unusual compared to His appearances in the other books, and written in a particularly interesting, and sensitive way. The things He said to Shasta/Cor and Aravis were so very individually relevant, and their effect on them so very significant. His encounter with Bree, I dare say, seemed to have a message that went beyond the pages of the book, but I don't want to put anything into Lewis' words that might not actually be there. It's more of a personal feeling than an actual interpretation.

As for the supposed racism in this book, that I know some people will talk about: Do yourself a favour, and educate yourself. To be honest, I suppose me saying this is of no good use, but I don't want to actually discuss this, beyond saying that a lot of the complaints show some underlying racism themselves, and even more so a severe lack of understanding of this book, as well as various Middle Eastern cultures and religions, both ancient and modern. There's so many remarks on this that are made up of dramatic misinformation, and also an uncomfortable array of people who claim to care for social justice, but at the same time seem to believe all sorts of bad and untrue things about the people they supposedly want to protect, yet obviously don't respect. (It his unfortunate, but certainly not Lewis' fault, that some Islamophobic Christians have a dreadful idea of Islam that somehow resembles the Calormene Paganism, but, so do some of the people who accuse Lewis of Islamophobia.) This is on the racism related to real people.

As for the supposed racism inside the story, I dare say, if anything, the Calormenes show more of it than anyone else, and even that is very limited. I already noticed in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, that Lewis preferred to portray the Calormenes in a fairly neutral, and even more so a very interesting way, describing them as a wise, wealthy, courteous, cruel and ancient people. He did this in a way similar to how he described Trumpkin's face, and I've mentioned before that I absolutely adore how Lewis used to set “good” and “bad” adjectives side by side, simply using them as what they are, rather than a form of judgement. He also did this for the personalities of various characters – such as Edmund and Eustace – and on plenty of other occasions and matters. It's also of note, that all criticism of Calormen was in regards to its politics and some traditions, and never were the people portrayed to be bad based on their race, which played no role at all, or their culture, which was described to be a very beautiful one.

Personally, I find the Calormenes to be highly fascinating to begin with. I mentioned the difference reading the books in the original order makes in regards to the world building, and – with The Magician's Nephew not yet written at that time – I wonder how the Calormenes got to Narnia. I mean, not only how, but from where. Of course, the Telmarines are already proof enough, that after the creation of Narnia there have been people from our world getting there, long before the Pevensies came, but also – long after Frank and Helen came. And that's the interesting thing. Because the Creation of Narnia shows that it happened when in our world, it was the late 19th century, we cannot know since when Lewis had that in mind. The Telmarines were pirates, and the Calormenes seem to come from a very ancient, at least pre-Islamic (if not older than that) Middle East. And at this point, I wonder, was Narnia meant to have been created earlier?

I think it wasn't. I actually think they seem so old, because of the very long time they've been in Narnia! (I mean the World, of course.) Narnia isn't an antique or even medieval world, even though many make it out to be. From the very first book on, Narnia was almost modern – they had the lamppost, after all, even before we learned how it got there, they has sewing machines, fairly modern books, houses that resembled actual modern houses like the house Coriakin lived in, and all sorts of other things that show that there has been a sort of modern influence in Narnia all the time. The Telmarines could have been more or less modern Pirates, who somehow had to adjust to the place, and so did – even earlier – the Calormenes. They used what they had, and somehow adjusted to a live that, even a thousand years after the Long Winter, seemed older than that. And while the Calormene religion is, in terms of inspiration, based on Babylonian religions, the actual religion of the Calormenes is based in their world, and while not religiously True, based around at least one very real deity, which proves that they actually developed the cult around Tash through Tash and on Tash, after coming to Calormen. They might have been normal, modern people from somewhere in West to South Asia, who applied knowledge of their own ancient religions to what they saw in Narnia, and while only a few decades passed in our world, their old and new views and experiences mingled over the millenniums that passed over in Calormen into the culture we finally got to see. I mean – think of the Pevensies, who went on to become quite medieval in style and manners, too. If they could come to Narnia as completely modern people, and then change like that in less than fifteen years, why shouldn't others do so over thousands and thousands of years? I think this is all quite fascinating. Some might think that the fact that Narnia is not really an “independent” world makes it somehow less interesting, less intricate, but I think the way people get there, and bring things into the world, and change and adjust them, is amazing and a completely different sort of world building.

Also!!! It has been hinted that there are even more countries than the ones we know!!! Which is so amazing!!! And makes me so excited!!! The world actually goes on beyond Calormen!!! And Calormen is huge, oh my!!!

By the way, I love the name Breehy-hinny-brinny-hoohy-hah, and I suppose Hwin also is short for a horsey name. According to Wikipedia, it's probably a contraction of “Hwinhynym”. That would be nice!

I cannot really choose a serious favourite quote (there's just too many!) so I'll go with this one: “Even though Education and all sorts of horrible things are going to happen to me.” I also don't really think I have a favourite chapter.

[serenityluanebunny]

The cost of the Pomegranate

Hello and I hope you all will enjoy this story, it is part of my book I am writing. This the first chapter

Chapter 1 - The deal

     Hades had spent the last century as a solidarity god, as he had not seen the surface for over 1000 years. The way his brother had decided to run the pantheon had made him retreat, along with the rumors of what they spoke of him. After the war with the Titians mortals feared him because he mostly resembled his father Cronos, the tyrant king of the Titans. He gave up trying to convince them that he was not like his father but his own person.  

Hades was the oldest of the three brothers and by birthright should have ascended to the throne of Olympus. He did not aspire to but knew of his birthright, so when Zeus has suggested they draw lots he thought nothing of it. He was one for fairness and justice, so they drew lots and he got the underworld the opposite of what he wanted. Hades had been bitter in the early days, as both brothers walked away with what he thought at the time great prizes, while he was casted to the underworld to be alone for centuries. He over the centuries had begun to retreat from his family and the mortal world.  He would go to counsel in the early days for they all had a fair voice but as the century went in Zeus offspring claimed their own voiced in the counsel he retreated. He got tired for their games, the looks at him and their biting words. Hades over time never corrected what was being spread about him, as his demeanor become cold and indifferent. 

Hades was one to keep those he trusted close and, his those he hated as far as way as he can. He knew that he needed to interact with the gods as they always need something, and that is when they thought of him.  The way the gods interfered with the mortal loves was sickening to him.  Instead of being a model of how to behave and furthering their race, they played, destroyed and used them at their whims.  There were very few deities who valued the importance of the mortals that worshipped them.  Hades was one of those gods that to him he felt that the mortals should be treated much better as they are one of the life-lines to the gods.  The Olympian gods needed constant worship to maintain their power, as he did not require that to keep his power. Hades kingdom grew as those very mortals gave up their lives, or they died, and Thanatos claimed their souls.

Hades kingdom was massive as all soul’s immortal and mortal alike came to him. He had become very power right underneath his younger brothers nose. He held two-third of the gods immortality.  Ambrosia and the very nectar the gods consume all come from a very special plant in Elysian. Demeter his younger sister half the other third of their immortality as she was in charge of the humans.  Hades had not bragged about this control, but he knew his brothers secretly new that is why they had left him alone to his own devices.  He knew that at one point this would come into hand, where he could upper hand his brothers.

  Hades had been on his throne when the familiar flutter of wings could be heard, and he knew exactly who it was. Hermes the god messenger, had been pestering him as per orders to Zeus. Zeus king of the gods wanted hades to come to the harvest festival. He held this festival every year the bounty was plentiful, and it was. Hades finally gave in when he found out that Persephone Demeter’s daughter would be in attendance.  He recalls the last time he had seen her, as she was only 10 years of age, and was lost on Olympus. The poor young goddess was very curious about the world around her, so she would leave her mother’s protective grasp. Persephone had run into him as she had not watched where she was going, and he to the surprise of the other gods, was understanding. Hades that day spent some time with her, but soon her mother found her and scolded her for running off. He remembered the way the child looked at her mother, and how she felt disappointed to leave. His heart had been touched because no one wanted to be around him. Everyone feared the Lord of the Underworld, but not this beautiful child in front of him. She instead wanted to know more about him and talk to him as if he was her best of friend. When they parted, and he return to his world he thought of her, but as with time soon forgot the event that happened between them.  

  He went this day to the harvest festival as his brother wouldn’t leave him alone. Zeus had requested his presence something he did not dare disobey so he rose up from the underworld and joined his so-called family. Hades prepared for this day as he wore the finest clothing he had.  He wore a striking deep blue with a gold belt He looked around and Olympus was decorated to the nine, such a stark contrast to his home. As he walked the cobblestone gods would gasp and he brushed them off as he reached the tallest temple. The temple of the gods Zeus home.

  Persephone's eyes glinted over the vast landscape before her. Beauty and abundance glimmering in her classic features. Her silhouette the very definition of grace. Her smile was the silken ivory of the pearls adorning her neck, her laugh was like bells on a Sunday morning. A class act, with stars in her eyes and beads of promise adorning the very essence of her. Of all of the gems, she was the most priceless. She was helping her mother, as Demeter tended to the flowers of the land. Her beautiful voice echoing in all of its immaculate perfection, as she tended to her duties. Persephone's smile was genuine but the brooding in her eyes was becoming evident. She was becoming rather bored of her mother's watchful gaze, her protective nature shielding her from any onlooker to cross her path. Youth resided in her features. The light dusting of freckles cascading her face just over the brim of her nose. She bit her lip with a sigh as she toyed with the dandelion between her fingers bringing it to her lips as her heart whispered a silent wish and the fluffy white spores dispersed as the wind carried them. Just once she wished Demeter would loosen the reins. She fell back into the grass with her hands falling at her sides as she breathed in the atmosphere and exhaled her thoughts. Her long reddish blonde hair falling in waves around her.

  Demeter was the goddess of the grain and fertility as she always thought it was funny given that she only had one child at the moment. She loved her daughter so much, but she had so much fear that her daughter would fall to the same fate as her that she strangled her freedom. She had nymphs watching her constantly so that she would not be left to her own devices. She had learned as Persephone grew she has gained Zeus ability to be curious and wanting new experiences. Demeter made sure she curbs that by keeping her guarded and naïve. Demeter was a beautiful goddess with green eyes, and red auburn hair, which she got from her mother Rhea. She always wore conservative clothing as she didn’t want to be eyes to any of the gods that couldn’t keep it in their chiton “Persephone, come here please we have been summoned to Olympus for a harvest festival in our honor. This was one I couldn’t say no to.” She said looking at her daughter and showing her the golden envelopes, so she can read it. “we have about 3 hours to get ready, listen to me carefully you are not to speak to anyone there. All those gods and goddess are like wolves I do not trust them around you “She said as she motioned her to follow her to the house, so she can see the dress she had made for her.

  “Yes, mother." Persephone sighed taking the envelope into her hands as she read the letters. She was growing effortlessly tired of her mother's protective droning. She felt alone in a world of pretty faces, more often than she didn't. She was naïve. Her mother kept her that way, but she was far from stupid. Persephone followed along with her mother skipping beside her as she took her hand linking their fingers together. Her aura was quite childlike at times. She jabbered on about the festival and who would be there as they went. She was excited to see the dress that her mother had fashioned for her. She wasn't sure what to think about the festival. She never had much fun at those kinds of things any way she was always under her mother's watchful eyes, and more often than not her thumb

  Demeter watched her daughter and caresses her face very carefully as she was her most precious possession. She kept her daughter naïve because she didn’t want her to fall into the same tricks she was out into When you are there you are to stand by myside. Dear do not drink anything you are not supposed to. She said as she showed her a beautiful golden dress. The pattern was intricate Dear please do not Entertain them or make them think that you are interested in them or they will eat you alive. She said as she started to prepare her daughter. Miasma and Kalin please help Persephone get ready and have her meet me in about 10 minutes. You have not traverse the aether so you will he dizzy and disoriented it is normal until you get used to it but that won’t be happening unless you are with me deal

  Persephone slipped into her gown and knotted her hair into a long braid, weaving flowers through the center of it. She looked grown up and beautiful. She could have cried as she saw herself. She felt like a woman. She was more than accustomed to her mother making her feel like a little girl, and she always played along. Sweet, innocent, quiet, Obedience was law. She smiled as one of the girls clasped her necklace around her neck. If only they knew of the secrets swimming around in her head. She wanted to feel. She longed to feel the weight of a heavy heart in her chest. She'd stolen a book once When her mother wasn't looking or found it rather and never returned it. It was full of tales of love and triumph. She wanted that. She wanted to fall in love and be swept away as any girl does, a fate she feared that with her mother by her side she would never capture. Never the less, she was curious, and she was determined. Persephone made her way out to her mother as she'd finally finished getting ready and took her hand as Demeter took a look at her spinning her around. The vibrant gold of the dress was absolutely stunning. The patterns were intricate and divine. She felt exquisite.

  Demeter entered the room as she had left to give her daughter privacy they she needed. Demeter decided to dress up for this affair, as it was a festival honoring both of them. She wore a beautiful orange dress to match her daughters. This particular dress in speaking was made of the finest silk and was woven to look like the sun was setting. The dress was stunning to say the least. She wore girl bangles and rings with a pendant having her symbol. Beauty was definitely on the grain goddess side. Many desired her but she looked the other way, for she was not interested in her kinds trickery. She always made it a point to point it out to her child. Men only care about one thing and once they have it they move on. “beautiful, stunning you look like a true princess more so then your other sisters. “she said as she placed a golden wreath on her daughters head. “Now we must depart before your father sends in the Calvary” she grasped her daughter hand tight and instructs.” Keep holding tight as we are traveling different planes to get to Olympus. Keep your mind focus on going to Olympus. “she said as she teleported them to Olympus in one easy flow. Once there she smiled at her daughter as their feet landed in the main entrance to the hall of the gods. Demeter gave time for Persephone to process what just happened and to place her foot on the firm floor. “how you feeling? Do not need you getting all queasy inside my dear “she said softly as she observed her daughter for any signs of getting sick.

  Hades watched her action and he smiled as she wasn’t scared of him or being alone with him. Many gods feared him because they assume he was cold and indifferent. He was but that was because of how others treated him “ I know she would not , that is why she kept you hidden, I like you Persephone you are not like most goddess . Yes ,I like you being Coy , when you do it it’s adorable when others do it they have ulterior motives . Your mother was right about our relatives you have to be weary do not trust easily here in Olympus. They are nice to your face but quick to cut you down and your reputation. “ he said as he agreed with Demeter. It was a shame their relationship went to the waste side when she had her daughter

Hades felt her take his hand and she started to trace his lines and each touch sent shivers down his spine and he felt very warm to her touch. Hades eyes her as he grasp her hand as he noticed she fit perfect to his hand and he clasped them . He pulled her towards him and smiled at her , and was brave enough to lean down and kissed her softly then brushing his lips on hers . He then leaned away not to scare her .

  Persephone's eyes fluttered closed as he took her hands and brushed his lips against hers softly. She wasn't startled. Simply surprised by the notion. She opened her eyes watching his cautious gaze as he leaned away and she smiled placing her hands on either side of his face as she brought her face to his kissing him deeply. It felt as if she'd kissed him a million times. Their lips morphing together as if one was made for the other. Persephone's skin erupted with chills as the fire of the kiss burned between them. Finally, she pulled away. Breathless and beaming she bit her bottom lip, feeling her skin begin to flush faintly. "I'm sorry- I don't know what came over me." She said sweetly. She knew her mother would have blamed it on the sensual nature of a God. She knew that she would assume Persephone had been tricked, but that wasn't it at all. Hades and Persephone had just fallen together. Two pin points on a road map that met in the middle. Two different trains with one stop. Hades seemed inevitable. All of him. Everything.

  Hades watched her as he began to kiss her deeper his hands cupped her face so that he was able to enjoy the sensation she provided . Hades body was on fire from just kissing her . Hades never had such an Intense reaction from any kiss he had gotten . When they both broke the kiss he was breathing irregular and had pushed her tight to him . He kept the moan to him as he felt her soft body on his . He stepped back and just allowed himself to cool down . He definitely was attracted to her and desired her that was evident in his actions and his body reaction. Hades smiled as she was flushed and her lips were swollen with the intensity of the kiss . “ why are you apologizing you can not help your bodies respond , I am sorry for know I got to do better I let it get to far . You just met me and I am here practically sticking my tongue down your throat . Just know I don’t do this to just anyone , you are the only one who’s made me have that much reaction . “ hades said as he kissed her hand again and smiled . “Your mother would kill me and call me a pervert if she saw this . We are running out of time aphie and Ares will only keep her occupied for so long . I would love to see you again .” He said as that was when he was going to take her . He now had to have her no matter what and would not share .

  You aren't a pervert, And most of it is my fault." She laughed smiling as he kissed her hand. "I'd follow you anywhere, I'd love to see you again." She said softly watching his eyes. Her mother would be absolutely furious. Her father she wasn't sure one way or another. Her thoughts were racing as her heart rate fought to become normal again. She still had chills littering her arms. Her face beyond flushed at this point. She couldn't explain the emotions she was feeling. She'd lost her mind. Thoughts swam whimsically in her head as she watched him. She didn't want to say goodbye to him. She was having too much fun. He made her happy, but she knew that he was right. Her mother would be along soon enough, and possibly seething if she found out.

  Thank you Persephone, but I will give advice to you don’t trust any make gods here . The males here including my two brothers only care about one thing and that is getting in the sheets with whoever they want regardless if you want or not . “ He said as caresses her face. He was in awe as she was still having a hard time regulating her body . He know knew that his thoughts would be consumed by this beauty he had In front of him . He caresses her face and looked into her eyes . “ I would never hurt you nor do anything that you would not approve” he said as he kept his touch light as he kept feeling the electricity between them . He heard Demeter in the background looking for daughter and sighed as he turned towards her . “ meet me tomorrow near that pomegranate tree your mother he near your house . Make sure to come when she is busy with her duties and I can see you then. “ hades said as he knew she would come . He was nervous in how things would go and play out . What if she didn’t like his realm and she hated him. What if she saw him a monster because he was plucking her from her fields and sun . He had so many fears and how things could go wrong . Now go before your mother cuts this before it even starts “ he said turning her so she can go inside

  Persephone smiled as she pulled away from him her fingers leaving him suddenly. She noted how cold she felt without his hand in hers she blew him a soft kiss as she turned away gracefully walking out of the garden and away from Hades. She was soon in her mother's arms as Demeter hugged her tightly. "Persephone where were you? I was so worried?" She said frantically as she held her daughter close. "I was picking flowers mother, don't worry." She smiled handing her the tulip she'd plucked free from a patch of wildflowers. "This one is for you." She smiled placing it into her mother's hair. Thoughts of Hades flooded her mind as she bit her lip remembering how it'd felt to kiss him. Her body pushed flush against his. Her head was spinning as she remembered the way she felt. The sighs. The panting. It was unlike she'd ever felt before. It was the desire she had read about so many times before.

[zenosanalytic]

4/20/19 HSE 2

Looks like we’re going to Dave, Karkat, and Jade now

Why a foot and a half?

Karkat keeps living nocturnally, he just does it during the day XD XD Talk about “Bloody Minded” :p

John, at a picnic: “Meat, or Candy??” *has existential crisis* *is stained for life* Karkat, oogling Jake’s ass on TV: “Can’t it be, motherfuckin, Both Things?”

Yes, Dave’s complimenting Jake’s shapely rump, but I feel like there’s a backhanded quality to this. Like Dave’s also saying Jake isn’t very impressive outside of his looks. Then again, later he says Jake’s the most popular of them all, and is really focused on winning his support, so hopefully I’m reading too much into it and he thinks well of him.

I was kinda hoping Dirk&Jake would be doing some sort of Animal-Adventure show? A robot-wrestling rap-battle starring Jake scanty-clad is, like, 97% Dirk’s interests, and idk if even 3% Jake’s(I mean: he talks about liking wrestling but he was only ever uncomfortable with Dirk’s wrestlebot. He DOES like revealing clothing, though). Seems like Meat, at least, is premised on both of them backsliding into their negative qualities(Dirk domineering and Jake not standing up for himself) after Sburb.

While I think Karkat’s snobbery over the “softness” of Human Wrestling(and Dirk&Jake’s terrible rapping) is Funny, it does kinda forefront that, for all his opposition to HiC and her regime, Karkat never really understood what was wrong with it, ideologically and politically, as well as Sollux and Feferi did(and possibly Aradia? I get the feeling she’d have had Good Thoughts on this issue for some reason), and that basically the only people who understood how truly Fucked Up Alternia was, and why, aren’t there to make sure the same mistakes aren’t repeated(even if Karkat, dispositionally, is pre-disposed to point Trolls away from doing so by example).

Someone in this fandom needs to write Dave’s Obama-Sburb fanfic, as a matter of principle if nothing else u_u

I def feel like there’s an element of mockery in all this Obama-Karkat stuff. As a rule I pretty much side-eye any claim that Dems & leftists treated Obama as “The Second Coming” or somesuch(which the Karkat analogy is a direct reference to); that was always a conservative media meme, and it only worked with their audience due to partisanship and the fact that conservatives very rarely interact with liberals or liberal media. The main point here might be to emphasize Dave’s naivete and idealism, which it certainly does,but it’s still premised on this idea that anyone on the left saw him as a “Savior”. I mean: that “Hope” poster was marketing; do ppl not get that? Like: it draws on and references so much of past propaganda, it’s kinda difficult for me to believe that anyone would honestly take it as an expression of some religious sentiment towards Obama.

Also: How Dare they tell me the Mayor is dead? How Dare They???

On the one entirely metaphorical hand: Dave’s right that Jane pretty much can’t be that great at business since 1)post scarcity, meaning anyone can fulfill their wants at any moment and any economy which exists is basically just for laughs and 2)she’s a literal deity people will just give their stuff but

on the other entirely metaphorical hand: it’s a post-scarcity society so the economy’s just for laughs meaning it cant really hurt anyone.

This dividing the Gods into political factions based on whether they like trolls or not has a very Illiad 2.0 feel to it. Also: what’s the deal with Jane and Dirk not liking Trolls? and what’s up with Jade??

So is the “personal shit” Jade’s relationship to Dave and Karkat(and trolls), or Jade’s relationship with Jane??

[askthetrad]

Your ask won't let me submit a question.

It says you’re from the East Coast of the States. WHat spirits do you “work” with(for lack of better term) and how did you come into contact? I ask because I live in Northern California and although I have Cherokee ancestry there are little references to local spirits save the wetlash and the tribal spirits are not ones of my Nation.Besides I’m mostly European.

[We’ll look into why it wouldn’t let you send an ask!]

Mother Mercy here, speaking as someone with tangential Cherokee heritage myself. I would not count myself as Cherokee unless you can name the ancestor in your bloodline who makes you so. This is the basic requirement to gain your tribal card. (Even with the ability to get my tribal card personally, I hesitate. I haven’t lived on a reservation. I don’t know the language. There is no current relationship with that heritage for me.) If you’re “mostly European,” and don’t or can’t trace that heritage with confidence, I’d say let it go. Regardless, pursuing a connection to Northern Californian spirits with Cherokee heritage is fruitless. The Cherokee Nation never lived so far west or north.

Father Farthing here! Mother Mercy covered the native blood part, which is something I have no experience with, so I’ll focus on the other. The spirits I work with – which, I personally would consider “work” to be an appropriate term, because our relationship is one that is based on reaching goals – are land spirits. These go by a variety of names, the most popular of which are genius locii and landvaettir. The latter is a Norse term, the former with Roman origins and more commonly used.

Each place is influenced deeply by its ecology, environment, and history – both human and natural, and these shape and give character and form to the spirits that inhabit and oversee them. They are everywhere, in every city and every field and every biome. A land spirit may be that of a forest or of a single city block, and are tied to an animistic perspective of the world. Just as each stone, book, card, and home has a spirit, so does every place.

I’ll be publishing a post on calling and courting spirits in my practice sometime soon, as my work allows, but the shorter version is two-fold. 

First, I have (and you have) always been in contact with land spirits by virtue of living, working, sleeping, and interacting with the places you do on a day to day basis. You share the same home. You have never truly been alone.

Second, to call and formally meet for the very first time, I had spent a great deal of time researching and reading texts on spirits and in particular familiar spirits. I purchased a small jar of local honey and some full fat milk and mixed a portion of the former into the latter. I chose my place, with the spirit I felt closest to from my affection for the area and for my learning and understanding of it and its seasons and processes, and I sat in a place where water met land and sky.

 I poured half of the mixture to the earth and offered it, and sipped the other half myself, a sharing and a savoring. I fell into a trance state after a couple of attempts at meditation, watching the ripples on the water, until I felt the spirit come. A pressure that welled up, and shadows across my mind’s eye, and an unmistakable presence. I greeted it, and I claimed kinship with it and I bound it by things we shared and things we did not share. 

I asked it for three gifts and I made it three promises.

I also shared and gave away a piece of my soul for a piece of its own. I tell you this as a cautionary point. Land spirits are not so easily researched and read as Goetic ones, and some would argue that they are not so strong. I personally disagree, based on my experiences. I would warn those who seek land spirits that while they can offer great gifts, it must always be remembered that they are and will always be first and foremost of their land. 

They are wild. Some are more human in mannerism than others; some are more curious or more bold or more apparently friendly; some are malicious. I do not regret the deal I made with my devil, but it has had consequences and continues to have consequences sometimes when I least expect them. I was significantly younger, and more foolish. I am still humbled by the things I did not and do not yet know, so I tell you this: be bold and seek them out if you wish! Bring milk, and honey, and eggs, and apples, and sweet things or fresh meat or strong drink – coffee, tea, or liquor dependent upon the spirit in question – or smokes. Ask and receive. But take care to know what exactly you have traded away for your power and your sovereignty, and learn how to manage the consequence. 

I currently work with two land spirits, primarily. One presides over my bioregion, and the other is sunken deep in a very human place near my home, seeped into the earth and pervading the air and pounded in by the intensity of human life during World War 2.  They are very different creatures. Others I have met and greeted and started and been startled by on my travels and around my home, and we pass amicably or one of us respectfully keeps our head down. The world is wide and deep and rich, and I love it. Find your ancestral roots if you wish, and learn about the ways that they went about interacting with spirits – look to the myths and legends and little scraps of folklore and idiom that you have lived with and never thought twice about! Or grab a book or three and see how people you don’t know have done it, and dare to try.

Fair fortunes.

Mother Mercy here again. I just realized I’ve been sitting on this for a while like a derp. Sorry about that!

As for me, I’ve had great experiences with the Irish pantheon. But when I worked in Ireland, the deities that were loudest there were Norse gods. (I was in Dublin most days, so that made sense.) That experience illustrates an interesting point. You’re so used to the gods and spirits that already walk your world, you probably aren’t even noticing them. Open up your mind to what the sensation would be for you if you were able to look up and see writing in the tree branches. Don’t assume that everything will be loud and flash. You’ll know in your bones when you’ve made a connection. There is no denying it.

As for me now, I’m slowly building a good flow with the Black Man (or Man o’ Black, as I prefer to call him), the local devil around my neck of the woods. I definitely work more with historically attested gods and spirits right now, because of where I am in my research and practice. 

Not to plug books, but I’ve seen good reviews coming down the pike for Besom, Stang and Sword, which hopefully will speak to your plight. 

Best of luck!

[roibinmacaoibhill]

Well That Was Final. I Heard You Crystal Clear This Time, Brighid!

Well, it looks like my issue on if I will be able to keep those two Fairy compnaions in my life or not is finally settled. Obviously, I’m not happy with Brighid’s final answer on the whole thing, but it looks like she’s getting the last word on this as usual. I’m still not sure if it’s going to end up being another layer to that particular geis she laid upon me last summor or not, but time will tell. Or she’ll let me know along the way, whichever comes first I suppose.

I attempted to do a ritual last night during the full moon, and everything was going well for the most part up until the moment the song “Only Hope” by Switchfoot started playing from one of my playlists at the exact moment I was in the process of closing down the ritual and blowing out the candle I had burning for Brighid. 

Well shit, this isn’t going to end well. No, not at all. 

Brighid loves using certain Christian rock bands to communicate with me directly for some strange reason. I find it especially weird, seeing how I have no connection with Brighid as the Saint, nor does Brighid attempt to communicate or interact with me in such a way. I think part of the reason why she uses Christian rock song is because of how focused they usually are on the themes of faith, belief, and praise, and I also think she just gets a sincere kick out of the somewhat irony that is provoked by her hijacking and subverting Christian rock songs for her own purposes, at least in regards to communicating with me through music.

Switchfoot is a particular favorite band of her’s to use to communicate to me with. The main song that she uses from them to communicate to me with is their song “Dare You to Move.” 

“Only Hope” first showed up as a new song from Switchfoot for her to communicate to me with as an answer from her when I asked her about the whole issue with the Fairy companions in the first place. Hearing this song and receiving the message I got from Ogham to go along with the song was what got me thinking that she wanted me to let go of my relationship  with them. Or to any other companions at all.

So of course I was instantly filled with both joy and dread when I heard “Only Hope” start to play at the end of ritual last night as I blew out the candle. I didn’t ask her about the Fairy companion issue again, but it was obvious that she was listening to and paying attention to all the divination I’ve been doing myself, as well as all the divination I had done for me, to help and try to find some clarity to the situation at hand.

Apparently it was time for her to give me her final word on the subject, regardless of whatever else was said by anyone or anything beforehand. 

To make matters worse, I ended up spilling fresh hot wax down the front of my chest and stomach the moment I tried to move the candle away from the ritual area and onto a special shelf I use to keep my tools and accessories when they are not in use.

Fuck. Just fuck. 

Having hot wax spilled or poured on me, regardless on how it was done, is Brighid’s strongest and most intense sign that she’s pissed off with me and has had enough with my shenanigans. 

Fuck. Just fuck. 

Cleaning myself, as well as the surrounding work space off from the hot wax as best as I could, as well as finishing putting everything away, I went straight into conversing with her about what was going on, what I had apparently did this time, and what was needed to fix things, apologize to her, and move on from it in a proper manner.

Basically, she was done with me interacting with the two Fairy cats, or any kind of spiritual being in the form of a personal companion, and is in the process of adding that to the list of things I am banned from. Apparently  it was getting in the way of our general relationship, while hindering the work we’ve been doing this year to help rebuild and heal our relationship. 

She also told me that part of her claiming and then marrying me all of those years ago, was that she was supposed to my only companion. That she was going to be in my life in the same way that so many people in the Spirit Companionship community do with their various companions, that I just wasn’t getting it regardless  of how many times she tried to make it clear over the years and through all the crazy spiritual shenanigans I’ve been through with various deities and beings, that she was finally fed up, and was now taking a firm hand in taking control of the situation, setting fire and burning all the bridges in my life that she feels  is keeping us from being where we should be, and is basically taking more of a firmer hand in my life.

I have so many feelings about this right now. I’m totally not suprised by this turn of events, mind you. I’m just not happy about it. But I have no one to blame but myself for this. 

I’m going to take a bit and process this whole thing. 

[kingbxsil]

BAZARI presents:

A doctor, an assassin and a florist enter a bar (actually it is an abandoned library)...

The florist was the last one to arrive. His dirty fingers held from the chipped edges of the entrance, the splinters laying down with an unnoticeable purr at the feeling of a fellow plant stopping by. Zachary Coltraine was no plant, no animal, but his constant interaction with nature had injected some of this green vitality into his soul, gifting him a green thumb and an uncanny ability to take care of animals.

“I’m so sorry, the shop closed late today”, he apologized, but with such a bright smile, it wasn’t even needed; he had charm, lots of it, his friends had pointed it out more than once; he was the only one who could get the sun to smile back at him, while the only things they got from the star were old curses. They were best friends with the Moon. Zach was the youngest and tallest, yet, his steps were the quiet ones. His body moved theatrically with no effort as his muscles showed off with any slight action. He liked to stay fit, that was obvious, but not because of common purposes, he liked to stay fit to fulfill the role his parents gifted him at birth: The Lost Prince, Michelangelo’s David, a muse. Even his hair seemed to cooperate, no matter what he did to it, his soft curls always fell poetically on his forehead. “You could be Superman”, he once heard. At first glance he looked human, but if you dared to keep your eyes on him more than a couple of seconds, then you would realize that within his humanity, there was something else, an otherworldly aura that made your throat dry and your stomach flutter. Zachary was dangerously alluring and you didn’t know why.

                                                                        It was the same with the other two.

Pebbles complained as Basil King shifts the weight from one foot to another. The brown worn-out leather of his jacket tensed as he crossed his arms, a gesture practically owned by this boy. Icy blue eyes shot a piercing, yet rather friendly stare to the animal lover that just had made his way into the old library. An attempt of a smile shows up on his lips, but there is no stimuli enough to provoke a full grin.

“You aren’t late”, those are his only words for now and those are the only words needed for the construction to mimic his short sentence with an imposing echo. The other two looked around in awe, a smile showing up on the third friend (yet to introduce). The boys liked to hang out in places like this one, where both time and space seemed frozen and eternal. It was Basil’s idea, probably it had to do with the (totally 100% proven) fact that there was some connection between him and the dusty abandoned buildings. As far as they knew, the second boy, who was also the shortest, has been exploring the unknown and frightening since he was able to crawl. Father Time and Mother Nature claimed paternity over the child and continuously presented him new places to find and conquer; most likely, it was them who commanded every structure to shiver at the voice of the King with no crown. It was decided, the friends knew it, Basil was the future governor of a decaying world of old gods and lost dimensions.

The thump of a heavy book closing with a quick movement attracted the eyes of the “muse” and the “king” towards it. Ah, the last one of the three and also the oldest. An impish smile appreciates the attention received and even though he intends no malice, his friends (whom he likes to consider brothers) are aware that he is the most prone to violent impulses. Every noise seemed to mutter at the exact moment he pushed himself up from the old wooden chair; everyone and everything was quiet and attentive to what he was about to do or say.

“They are already listening”, he said. His voice was deeper, but it didn’t even make the walls shake a bit, something that he secretly envied of his younger comrade. His index pointed upwards and the three of them remained silent. Riley Mendel was not only the smartest (in his group of friends and maybe even of the whole current dimension), but also the most dramatic one. He enjoyed performance very much and with the idea that the universe and its forces were always listening, he attempted his best to impress them at all times. Today, he was the leader. There wasn’t a specific head at all times, it was more of a... rotating role according to the presented situation; no one there would ever dare to claim superiority over the others, because then he would become an easy prey. An invisible halo adorned his shoulders as the cape of a temporary chief and casually, a window behind him filtered the stubborn rays of the sun to crown his head like a holy spirit. He had quite the ability to make things like this happen, to turn tables on his favor no matter how bad the situation could be. Basil and Zach were pretty sure that Riley had an unspoken ability to manipulate chaos, that he was the bastard son of Eris and Death themselves.

“It is unusual for us to meet on Friday”, the florist spoke again as he approached a couple of steps to accidentally form an equilateral triangle in relation to his friends positions. A moment of sepulchral silence is interrupted by a wind shaking the tree’s leaves as if hurrying the oldest of them to finish the dramatic pause. Everybody wants to know why those three old souls had to gather that afternoon.

“It’s Friday the 13th”, Basil remarked, the library creaking at its master’s voice. Everybody except the king looked around once again. Another brief moment of silence that the wind had to interrupt once again, louder and stronger this time. The spirits were impatient.

“I have a case”, the genius Riley finally dropped, but nobody moved. His friends, his brothers of arms know that he wouldn’t simply gather them with such hurry if this was just another one of his “simple” cases. Zach, the most insecure, briefly looked at Basil searching for some answers, but the motionless stance of the other ordered him to stay quiet and keep on waiting, eventually, the current leader will get tired of making them wait. “I want you to work with me in three equal parts”.

                                  The environment turned restless.

The sun touched the twilight, as if attempting to hide from the words that were just said under his watch. An eerie set of shadows hit the old building, creating disturbing silhouettes with the help of the trees in an attempt of scaring such idea from the mind of the boys. It’s inconceivable, outrageous, prohibited and overall... dangerous! Three forces like theirs should accompany each other, of course, but... work together... as one?! Somewhere in the universe the oldest immortals gathered around in an emergency meeting, the wind carried their panicking whispers to the ears of the boys as the sound of leaves brushing each other violently. Even the boys were confused, a simultaneous frown showed up on the faces of Basil and Zachary, but their postures remain untouched, one with crossed and confident stance, and the other with arms loosely at the sides of his body and a slight twist of his torso in an awfully natural elegant pose. Riley’s smile grew a tiny bit with every passing second. “Mortals” could wonder what’s so unusual about this? What’s the matter with three young men chatting about some case in an abandoned building? But you haven’t met them and for the love of any deity you believe in, thank them you haven’t and beg you never will, because these boys are not common fleshlings, these boys are hurricanes, are embodied danger that fell from the gods realm during a stormy night. The three of them are familiarized with death and loss, they are good friends with blood and misery, they served for The Fear and then sat on its throne. Impossibly talented in their own dark arts, these young men are the promise of a terrible (but grand) future.

“The details, brother”, Basil spoke again and the old library stops swinging, as if the voice of the king stroke like an order to let Riley expound.

“A new client, a very powerful person, but apparently not powerful enough, requires us to help them achieve greatness, to change the previously established, to break their prophecy set on stone and build them an empire”, the genius started explaining. His brown eyes bounced between his friends and even dust seemed to freeze in the triangle they have formed. The light diminished as the sun slowly managed to hide from the presence of these old gods, but far from being left in the darkness or getting afraid of the menacing night that attempted to kick them out already, their eyes seemed to glow and their bodies projected a soft light that would keep the shadows away. As long as they were together, not even the destiny would dare to interfere.

“Sounds like any other of your old jobs”. This time it is Zach who declared, his voice way more serious and stern than his initial greetings. The leaves stopped moving, nature around them just paralyzed as their human sentinel raises his voice. This time even Basil broke his steel confidence to turn his head to the florist. The topic of Riley’s past was something rarely touched, it could be quite a trigger; yet, the tall Ent remained calm and strong, capable of holding back a whole tornado if that was about to happen in that exact second. But nothing happened. Riley didn’t snap and slowly, time asks for permission to run by again.

 “The difference, my dear aesthetician”, Riley begun, “is that those jobs were lost coins, ropes with no beginning or no end, wasted opportunities. Don’t you see? My contact was heavily interested as soon as I mentioned having colleagues, people that, even if they couldn’t match the gray matter in my head, they had access to other sides of their minds I could only dream of”. The tone of his voice rose with every sentence, taking some steps in, causing the others to take the same steps to keep their triangle working. Their eyes connected and an invisible link wired their three minds in only one. “And what’s in for us? You may be asking”, Riley added and searched in his pocket for a folded piece of paper, it was empty. Nothing on the front or the back.

“An empty piece of paper could mean either ‘nothing’ or... “, Zach started, but hazel eyes quickly shot upwards to face his companions.

“Exactly”, Riley grinned, showing off human fangs to his friends in a greedy smile.

“You want us to build an empire of our own”, Basil finally spoke again with an almost accusing tone to Riley, “if this person is offering us everything we want as payment, they don’t know what they’re meddling with”.

“Yes, I am thinking of an empire, but not in the way you suggest, My Monarch”, Riley assured him. Another simultaneous step. The windows shut close with a dramatic last note before all remaining spirits abandon the location. They had to reach the sky, the stars and the grand deities to inform them of the playfellows’ ideas, to try and stop whatever they were planning to do. “This person tried to fool us. When I asked for the payment, they extended to me this blank piece of paper. No more words were exchanged”.

“They assumed we are going to ask for everything we want as a reward”, Zach resolved.

“But in the end they are going to give us nothing”, Basil added, “most likely even try to end us”.

The three of them exchanged a look and dropped a harmonic snicker, immediately reading each other’s thoughts. Even Basil, the least expressive of the three, had showed a witty smile.

“So we are going to give them what they ask for...”, Riley begun again.

“...If they feed us, we will grow, but if they starve us...”, Zach followed.

“...we will swallow everything we helped them build”, Basil finished.

A thunder at the distance immobilized the scene. The night had already consumed the day and now the moon watched as her offspring planned the fall of a powerful perfidious person in the most patient way.

“Then it’s settled...”, the genius proclaimed, extending his hand to the center of the triangle. Another thunder at the distance. Zach and Basil joined with their own hands over Riley’s. More thunders, a big storm was approaching... or maybe it was the universe completely terrified, sending alerts to every living being in the planet to be careful, to seek for shelter, because the unimaginable had just happened: three chaotic forces of the universe had decided to gather together to accomplish a goal. It was useless, nothing could ever prepare anyone to what was about to come in the near future. Existence was doomed. The boys smiled at the same time, proving their unnatural connection.

“...This is how it begins, we have risen...”.

“...We are gods”.

[bramlouisgreenfeld]

truth or dare

summary: Andrew doesn’t want to share his soul with anyone. Children from foster homes aren’t large on sharing, and the concept of a soulmate is as outdated as it is unlikely. His soulmate probably wouldn’t want him anyway. (compilation fic for @tfcfansgive)

Nicky, who’d grown up as boy fantasising about his soulmate, seemed almost as delighted to be a side character in the tale of Andrew Minyard’s epic romance. The first time they spent alone together, Nicky interrogated Andrew about all the details he knew of his soulmate.

“Nothing,” Andrew says. The skin condition - because that’s what the myriad of scars and wounds are best described as; an unsightly affliction - has never volunteered any significant information to him. Nor would he want it to.

“Nothing?” Nicky repeats, incredulous. “You’ve never even given them your phone number? Written ‘a/s/l’ on your arm?”

Andrew levels a flat stare on his newfound cousin. “I know they are more trouble than they are worth.”

Nicky protests, but it falls on ears that may as well be deaf. If the pain from the injuries - reduced though they are from what his soulmate must feel - weren’t inconvenient enough, Andrew has received scars through no experience of his own that immediately indicate to others that he is one of the very, very few who have a soulmate, opening him up to this kind of questioning by any person without enough of a self preservation instinct.

Besides, anyone who lives the kind of life that Andrew’s soulmate does clearly comes with with disaster on their heels. Andrew’s experienced enough disaster in his own life. He’s not taking on anyone else’s.

(Or so he thinks.)

The Foxes find out that Andrew has a soulmate after Nicky drunkenly blurts it out, trying to make friends by exchanging interesting facts. Andrew isn’t present for this. He is, however, present for the searching, amazed glances the following day; the marks of a group of people trying to figure out what it is by the angry, distant man that deserved a soulmate when none of them got one.

None of them ask. They have better instincts than Nicky. Or they’ve seen Andrew’s reaction to prying questions a few too many times to risk it for something Andrew clearly tries to hide.

Then, Renee does. “You’ve been blessed,” she says gently, as though this is fact and not a misguided opinion.

“You already know my view of religion,” Andrew says, aiming a particularly vicious slash at her as a warning that she deftly avoids.

“The fact of it is written all over your body,” Renee says, soft smile not showing any strain. “Surely it’s hard to deny.”

“I’m bonded to someone out there,” Andrew says, projecting his best bored tone. “There’s nothing to say that’s a blessing. They’ve caused me nothing but pain and annoying questions so far.”

“So you think it’s a curse?”

“If you must put it that way, yes.” It’s not the most accurate way to describe this nuisance that’s taken over his body, but it’s the best way to convey the sentiment to Renee.

“Have you ever tried to interact with them?” Renee asks, disbelief still in her dark eyes.

“Yes,” Andrew says, tapping his wrist to gesture to the marks Renee knows lie under the arm bands, and striking when her attention has strayed. “Never got a message back.”

“Andrew,” she says, catching his wrist.

“No,” he says, shortly, pulling his arm from her careful grip. The scars there are among the very few he’s ever given to his soulmate, and they’re not the fabled cry for help countless therapists told him they were. Each mark was him trying to claim his body back. They never worked.

Andrew knows there’s nothing a soulmate can do for him that he can’t do for himself. All his soulmate would be is another addition to Andrew’s sorry collection; they’d be a nuisance at best, and Andrew’s end at worst.

“Can’t you imagine it?” Renee asks Andrew’s back, a last attempt at conversion. “Perfect love drives out fear,” she says, in the reverent tone she gets when she quotes the Bible.

“I can,” Andrew says, and he leaves. Because fear doesn’t cover it. He can imagine the feelings - a fire in his veins, a tempest in his chest - and he can conjure up the feeling of being consumed by it all. He can envisage giving himself over to an emotion that’s bigger than he is. And he can imagine it can all being torn away from him.

No, there’s nothing his soulmate can offer him that’s worth taking.

But that doesn’t stop his soulmate from turning up anyway. Andrew stands over his prone figure in a dimly-lit room and he can paint a picture of every scar on his body. Neil Josten, a voice in his head whispers, and the knowledge burns a hole in his chest.

He swallows the familiar fear when Wymack calls his name, plays his part the way he always should. Then he taps an ironic salute to Neil, saying, “Better luck next time.”

He doesn’t know whether he means on the court or in life. Because he knows Neil’s history more than he clearly wants Andrew to, and he hasn’t had luck so far. He isn’t going to get more lucky with the Foxes, that’s for damn sure.

But he signs. Neil brings his trouble to Palmetto, and despite himself, Andrew is drawn in. Because fate and genetics and bad fucking luck had this determined long before either of them had any such thing as a choice.

Neil is a fish floundering out of its depth. He won’t survive the year, and though Andrew wills himself to feel relief, he doesn’t. The wasteland inside him burns, becoming twisted with new regret. Andrew doesn’t know why this is his fabled bond, but it is - a cruel joke, just like the rest of his life.

An oblivious boy, a danger magnet, a ticking time bomb with an expiration date. All of the trouble and none of the peace that’s supposed to come with true love.

He had thought watching blood appear as though from nowhere was inconvenient. It doesn’t even compare to the wounds lying over broken promises, broken bones, a breaking mind. It doesn’t compare to the terror of a bag left behind in the midst of chaos, to a boy basked in sunlight saying the only one I’m interested in is you being ripped from him in the blink of an eye, to a goodbye hidden in a thank you.

Andrew curses every deity he can name, every fate that would dare play this joke on him, then he curses himself again for letting it get this far. For thinking he would be allowed to keep this.

He watches his skin split and blood spill, feels heat on his face, weathers the pain and doesn’t imagine how many increments above this Neil is feeling. He doesn’t leave handprints on Kevin’s neck, but he’s sure he should. He’s not imagining the blood. It’s real, much as he wishes it weren’t.

Then he takes Neil’s face in his hands, and Neil looks at him like he holds the answer to a question he’d never dared ask.

Andrew doesn’t trust this, doesn’t dare think it could last, doesn’t think that the pull in chest feels almost like happiness. But he lets himself tell Neil to stay, and lets him think this could survive the year.

[keeperprinceling]

khit’li; basic details

NAME: Khit’li Mewrilah AGE: 18 SPECIES: Miqo’te Keeper of the Moon GENDER: Male ORIENTATION: Heterosexual INTERESTS: Exploring; Problem-solving;  PROFESSION: Arcanist - Scholar / Summoner; (Canonverse): Companion to the Warrior of Light; does not possess the Echo but has a strong affinity for the Arcane BODY TYPE: lean and fit, with some abdominal muscle definition from working at the docks in Kugane for a few months; he’s kept up a light workout routine above and beyond normal adventuring to keep the definition. EYES: Dichromatic; one - his left - is light blue-grey; not quite like ice, not quite like a cloud - more like the nearly colorless sky after the rain. He much prefers the look of this eye, so has carefully styled his hair to keep the other as shaded from view as possible, as his other eye - the right - has a nearly black iris with just a hint of slate grey when the light hits it just right. Combined with the long scar that crosses over it, it looks like a mistake - like an accident, like the color reflected that his eye was blind or dead or other unpleasant things. It’s not perfect, so he hides it. HAIR: Just off-white, towards the blue end of the spectrum. Like many of his clan, his coloring is one that they claim reflects Menphina herself - he is the night; his hair soft white against the darkness of his skin, just as the Moon is against the darkness of the sky. He styles it to the right and keeps it “perfect” for him - piece-y, a little ruffled, but carefully maintained to look completely casual, with long bangs pushed to the right to hide his off eye. Fond of his style and the legacy behind his coloring, he would never dare dye his hair and you’d have to fight him to even start the conversation of changing his style. SKIN: A dusky color, like a mixture of gloomy purple and ashen blue that looks like the sky on the night of a full moon. It’s mostly without marring; on his face he has his keeper markings, the coloring coming out to be more similar to his sire than his family. Beyond that he has a few scratches from hunting lessons as a kit, across his cheeks, made obvious now in that they are darkened color of old scar tissue. Those two were left more for stylistic purposes than being particularly deep or difficult to cover up. There had been an attempt to lessen the scar made by the long-healed gash across his right eye, but the potions never seemed to work. He’s got a fainter scar across his throat; it's more recent, but due to improper care after it was caused there’s little hope of it completely disappearing. HEIGHT: He’s on the taller side of average for a Keeper, and while he isn’t towering over people he actually likes being closer in height to his friends. … even if that means he’s staring up at some of them. WEIGHT: Average, mostly in muscle mass.  COMPANIONS:  Yvaine Aradia (@yvainearadia​) - his wife, the most important person to him, the reason he is where he is today. the person he’d die for and kill for. He met her when he was heading to Gridania to become a conjurer to make himself more attractive in his scheme to find and keep a home and was so shocked by her lack of basic skill with a bow he had to help her out before people noticed she was a Keeper and shamed keepers everywhere for it. (Canonverse: Yvaine is the Warrior of Light): As she was pulled every which way and started getting involved in political matters and the Scions, he couldn’t just leave her - she didn’t even know how to properly work a map - so he just kept going with her, determined to keep this ridiculous excuse for a Keeper alive. … and then feelings happened and there went all his future plans.  Adelpha Loukas (@adelphaloukas​) - a member of the FC Yvaine joined that he joined too because obviously Yvaine “needed” constant attention back then, lest she continue to shame the Keeper people as a whole >.> that he was partnered with on a whim by the FC leader Sinaka Kyralih (@sinakakyralih​) when he was wanting to work on his thaumaturgy to master swift casting abilities; she scared him but proved he could trust her, and then got him drunk for the first time so they’re drinking buddies now. She doles out relationship advice when he needs it, despite never having been in a long term relationship herself and being just a couple of years older; Pretty Guardians Free Company Members: Khit’li doesn’t often interact with people from the Free Company Yvaine allies herself with, but he knows about them and doesn’t mind spending time with them - he just hasn’t felt inclined to actually get involved.  (Canon-verse): Alisaie, Biggs, Wedge, Gales (Ananta tribe quest npc). While Yvaine (WoL) gets along with a lot of people, Khit’li doesn’t really make the effort to connect with anyone unless he feels like they’d have fun together. While he likes to flirt, he feels like the life he’s grown into while following Yvaine makes those situations less and less appropriate and he’s getting out of practice so he aims more for people who he can depend on in a pinch who, otherwise, won’t focus so much on the serious nature of what’s going on around them. He does that enough inside his head and he’d prefer not to discuss it to death when there are so many things beyond his control. ANTAGONISTS:  None, really; Khit’to is an asshole but who doesn’t have family issues? (Canon-verse): Standard enemies of the WoL; had been captured by Garlean troops once and cares even less for them now than he had before. Feels Beast-tribes that have been overcome with their deity’s control are foolish and gets angry at them for it, but a lot of it is overcompensation for the pity he feels for them, and the fear that one day, that could be him. He trusts Yvaine to keep him safe in battles against Primals, but if one arises and she’s not there… he wouldn’t want her to have to put him down. He least likes the idea of not being in control of his own actions, and being taken by a Primal is that to the extreme.  COLORS: Blues, Greens, Whites SMELLS: Streams, greenery, miqo’bobs, Yvaine’s hair FRUITS: Eh, whatever DRINKS: Water, otherwise whatever ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES? Yes / No / Occasionally SMOKES? Yes / No / Occasionally DRUGS? Yes / No / Occasionally FIGHTS? Yes / No / Occasionally

tagged by: @alannah-corvaine

tagging: @yvainearadia (jic?) and :D followers! *-* tag me so I can learn more about your characters!

[10oclockdot]

10 New Interrogations

1. "Out West" and "Back East" are common enough phrases, but I rarely ever hear "Out East" and never "Back West." It's as if the spatial teleology of Manifest Destiny is still embedded in our language.

2. Already Google, Facebook, Netflix, and basically every other online platform tailor our user experience -- that is, what they show us when we do a search or look at our wall -- based on our past user experience. Which is to say that we don't really know what we like. We just know what we found acceptable from the limited options which the algorithm presents us based on what we found acceptable in the past. Log on to somebody else's Netflix and you'll see totally different streaming options -- probably stuff you didn't even know was on Netflix -- and you'll say, "Hey, I like Jurassic Park! Netflix, why didn't you ever tell me you had Jurassic Park??" or something similar. To be fair, when all we had was Blockbuster, we were still stuck with limited choices. Whereas Blockbuster limited their choices simply by what they thought the public would rent, Netflix limits their choices twice again: first by what they can purchase the rights to (and it seems like they're losing to Amazon and, dare I say it, Hulu big time these days), and then again but what they think YOU (personally) will stream. Simply put: you're only a couple ill-advised thumbs-ups away from thinking that there's nothing good to watch anymore, when in reality you just tricked Netflix into thinking that you have terrible taste. Same as it ever was -- with respect to the culture industry hemming us in and digital bubbles replacing shared reality -- it's just that nobody ultimately benefits here.

3. Thus, maxim: the new technology will not solve the problem you think it will solve.

4. Life is a pretty incredible meme. But even with its remarkable reach, variety, and durability on earth, still only a very tiny percentage of the earth's matter has been converted into life. I don't know what this "biomass" limit is, but it's clearly low. Is there another form of material organization which could yield a higher percentage of conversion into living matter? Would machine consciousness based on a silicon substrate be able to convert more matter into life? And if so, does that mean that it's destined to become ascendant in the future? Are there other systems of organization which can convert even more matter? What about capitalism? Is there a limit to the amount of matter that can be converted into capital? If so, what is it? Doesn't it, in fact, seem limitless? But if it is limited, by what is it limited?--- and, does that mean that there might be an ascendant system, capable of converting more matter into some other economic substance, which will one day overcome capitalism?

5a. Some time ago, I got into a debate about abortion with my former Baptist pastor. I pointed out to him the several documents from the early 70's in which the SBC or prominent Baptist writers came to the defense of abortion in certain instances or argued that it was not right for the church to oppose the Roe decision, since, after all, it did not compel anyone to get an abortion. He replied that church leaders must have been mistaken then because "God's Word is clear" that all abortion is wrong in all circumstances. Here I let the debate end, but now I wish that I had continued it at least a little bit longer. "Wait, so if you and the 1970's leaders of the Baptist Church are both taking inspiration from the same playbook [teh Bible], what made them wrong and you right? And if it was possible for the Church to get something wrong in the past -- as you just admitted -- then wouldn't it be horribly supercilious to claim that you've got everything right now? And if, as is overwhelmingly likely, you've got some things wrong in Church doctrine now, by what process are you going about finding them and trying to set them right? And how do you know that when you change something you're becoming more RIGHT rather than more WRONG? I mean, if God's Word is 'clear' and changeless, shouldn't you have gotten this right all along? And since you didn't, what changed? Did you find a new Bible verse or correct a botched translation... or did a concentrated national campaign create the pro-life movement as a means of making Christians the tools of conservative political power?" Anyway, that got a little off the rails, but the point is this: if you're going to say you were wrong in the past and right now, you need to A) admit that you're probably still wrong (about something, or maybe a lot of things), and B) examine the process by which you changed your mind and prove that it's actually moving you in the right direction.

5b. Because if that process of changing one's mind exists outside the text of the Bible -- that is, if perfecting Christianity is all a matter of hermeneutics, and much of it utterly eisegetical to fit a changing social context -- then why even have the text at all? If a historically-situated interpreter decides the ultimate meaning of the Bible, then Christianity isn't really based on the Bible. It's based on historical context, with the Bible in service to it. So why even have the Bible? Because if you can have pro-war and anti-war Christians, as well as pro-welfare and anti-welfare Christians, as well as pro-choice and anti-choice Christians, as well as pro-gay-marriage and anti-gay-marriage Christians (etc), then the Bible isn't really deciding any of these arguments.

6. The folks who want to do away with gender, right now, immediately, probably don't have a very good grasp of how the dialectic plays out historically. So many people think that Marx's point was revolution, but I think that Marx's elaboration of Hegel was, in essence, a pragmatic philosophy. He believed that certain cultures were ready for certain kinds of revolution, and others weren't. With that in mind, consider this: a person believes that there are only two genders. What's easier? To get them to believe that gender doesn't exist at all, or to get them to believe that there are MORE than two genders? I propose the latter, if only because it allows them to keep some aspect of their belief (that gender does exist, just a different number) and, moreover, it doesn't force them to forfeit their own experience of gender (even though it does force them to re-situate it somewhat). I say we multiply the number of boutique genders and micro-identities until there are as many non-binary appellations as there are people --- because when we've done that, the concept of gender will have merged with the concept of individuality, self-definition will have superseded the constraints of gender norms, and gender, the oppressive social tool, will have lost its utility to oppress, and it will just naturally fade away. By the way, look at how the same thing has happened, historically, with religion. Sure, there were atheists many centuries ago, at a time when most people only knew about one or two religions, but look at how much easier atheism is now. Not simply because we live in an age of science and evidence-based belief, but because we live in an age where you're only a click or two away from a list of every religion, every sect and denomination divided by some pointless hyper-specific quibble, and every deity that a culture once believed in but no more. Atheism does not flourish in an era of one religion and one god, but in an era, as we have now, of thousands of religions and thousands of gods. The more there are, and the more we make, the more constructed and fake they all seem, and the more useless they become.

7. Another paper I'll never write but wish I had time for: Gendering Deixis: 2nd-person narration in POV pornography and Choose-Your-Own-Adventure. Because the "you" of both genres is always a gendered "you." What effect does this have?

8. Evolution has designated childhood as a site of curiosity: a space where the mind orients itself to the world, discovers will, interest, and desire, and as such develops its sense of self even as it playfully learns how to learn. As long as this curiosity remains self-directed and volitional, the child will appear to be scatterbrained, flitting from one question to the next, from one object of attention to the next, from one subject to the next. Children appear utterly incapable of the comparatively simply adult task of sitting still and focusing attention on one thing. But they are perfectly capable of focusing their attention, perhaps with more acuity than some of us have as adults, on objects or events which have high interest to them. As a kid, I remember visiting the Indianapolis Children's Museum and being fascinated for literally hours with an interactive display that taught how erosion worked using sand and water. And this is very good for the mind as long as the child directs this process (with supervision, of course). What isn't good for the mind is when this line of interest and attention is dictated from some source other than the child. And that's why so much children's TV and internet content is absolutely ruining children. Ideal children's television might consist of a special TV with thousands of channels, all on different topics, with information presented slowly and methodically, and the child could change channels at will or decide not to watch at all. The more boring the programming, the more the child would be master of their own curiosity, and the more the child would direct learning and identity-formation (as it should be). Instead, what we have is television which puts children in a constant state of alarm, full of intense sound and visuals, bright colors, fast editing, and unpredictable shifts in content. The child is made to feel as though they can't look away, and thus, their innate sense of curiosity, a good thing when it is self-directed, is hijacked by a corporate product and directed from the outside, in service to a profit-model. Every time the child is about to volitionally change their attention, the program anticipates this and introduces some new surprising stimulus, grabbing their attention right back. Which is to say, the program thinks FOR them. This bombardment of images stops the process of identity-formation, probably in a similar way to how famine experienced in childhood changes health outcomes for the rest of life. This is very bad.

9. Boredom may in fact be the most crucial crossroads of childhood: a moment in which you must either find a way to engage yourself, and thus become a subject with interests and will, or resign/consign/abandon yourself to the status of an object, forever allowing other forces to choose your mind for you, forever allowing others to craft, cultivate, use, extract, and deplete you. And since, of course, capitalism wants people to function as commodity-objects -- reservoirs of exchangeable labor-power -- it serves capitalism perfectly well to inundate children with programming that subverts their acquisition of full selfhood.

10. And that's really what media studies is about: how do media use the user?

[rctchild]

really  LONG  CHARACTER  SURVEY.    RULES.  repost ,   don’t  reblog  !    tag  10  ! good  luck  !    TAGGED. thanks for inflicting this on me @exspiravitae​    TAGGING. oh god no

BASICS.

FULL  NAME :   malkhaz millward NICKNAME :   mal; often referred to as “boy”, “child”, various other references to his young age TITLE :   the boy from southshore ; “young blood” AGE :   14 perpetually BIRTHDAY :   april 14. ETHNIC  GROUP :   forsaken undead of lordaeron NATIONALITY :   horde / forsaken LANGUAGE / S :   gutterspeak/forsaken ; orcish ; common ; a few words of thalassian. SEXUAL  ORIENTATION :   he’s a child ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION :   bi RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :   uh HOME  TOWN / AREA :   brill, tirisfal glades CURRENT  HOME :   n/a (traveller) PROFESSION :  outlaw rogue/mercenary ; primarily takes work for the horde & occasionally neutral party.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR :   short, shaggy dirty blond. EYES :   blank, white & glowing with ghostlight FACE :   round, childlike. didn’t really get to mature much before death. LIPS :   pale & cracked COMPLEXION :   freckled ; acne & maggot holes cover his face. BLEMISHES :   the above acne & maggot holes, alongside several spots of discolouration around where bone peeks through flesh. SCARS :  bruises & cuts like a rotting fruit beneath his leather armour. most notably, a large patch of particularly rotten, greenish skin covering his chest & midsection with visible stitches holding it to the rest of his flesh. TATTOOS :   n/a HEIGHT :   5″1 WEIGHT :   god help me i don’t know. light, for his age. i’ll edit this when i find it from a previous meme BUILD :   frail/skeletal FEATURES :  idk what i haven’t already detailed above. young and sweet as a child, but not quite lacking in the grotesque and the nastiness of undeath. ALLERGIES :   light ; all holy magic burns him, though it can still heal him. USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :   shaggy, messy & tangled. it hasn’t seen a hairbrush in years. USUAL  FACE  LOOK :   blank, wide-eyed. not quite innocent. USUAL  CLOTHING :   common white shirt & pants / dark leather armour, with long cloak & cowl

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S :   being buried ASPIRATION / S :   to champion the forsaken ; to be regarded as a hero. POSITIVE  TRAITS :   ambitious / curious / soft-hearted / loyal / political NEGATIVE  TRAITS :   bratty / impulsive / self-critical / dwells on the past / ambiguous morality MBTI :   esfp-t ZODIAC :   aries TEMPEREMENT :   sanguine SOUL  TYPE / S :   helper ANIMALS :   eagle VICE  HABIT / S :   typical undead cannibalism & bloodthirst, nbd FAITH :   doesn’t subscribe to anything reverently, but does follow the main guidance of the cult of forgotten shadow; that is to say its main three virtues, & what they mean for the forsaken. there is potential for him to properly involve himself in that faith within the right set of circumstances. GHOSTS ? :   yes AFTERLIFE ? :   yes REINCARNATION ? :   yes ALIENS ? :   yes POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT :   horde EDUCATION  LEVEL :   ...what even is schooling in azeroth. uh, average up to whatever azerothian youth gets up to 14 years old. after that, his education is housed strictly in forsaken culture & history, as well as all his rogue stuff.

FAMILY.

FATHER :   jurian millward MOTHER :   annemarie millward SIBLINGS :   n/a CHILDREN :   he IS a children. EXTENDED  FAMILY :   undetermined NAME  MEANING / S :   possibly “beautiful/elegant/youthful” in gregorian. in azeroth it would likely have a pretty different meaning. HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? :   ‘khaz’ refers to the titan khaz’goroth in dwarven. it’s noted that human names can occasionally derive from dwarven tongue (or the two cultures just straight-up share names between the two languages), so it’s likely malkhaz as a name in azeroth has its roots in dwarven history or folktale.

FAVORITES.

BOOK :   some classic forsaken reading probably MOVIE :   n/a 5  SONGS :     what do you think azerothian pop would be like. i bet you anything goblins would invent it. the alliance likely gets bright, cutesy fluff while the horde would favour party music with the occasional stupid novelty. DEITY :   like many forsaken, mal is more of a heretic ; he will, if anything, actively seek to anger/irritate a higher power just to say that he did it. HOLIDAY :   hallow’s end. MONTH :   october. SEASON :   fall. PLACE :   tirisfal glades. WEATHER :   rain, particularly in the dead of night. SOUND :   silence, the kind before a brutal murder. SCENT / S :   petrichor & dead bodies piled on top of one another. TASTE / S :   blood & humanoid meat. FEEL / S :   mud under one’s feet. ANIMAL / S :   cats, particularly big cats (ie; lions & tigers, etc.) ; bats, wyverns, plaguehounds, pretty much any of the lordaeronian national animals. NUMBER :  13 COLORS :   blue, faded purples, black & dark grey.

EXTRA.

TALENTS :   rogue work ; dagger proficiency, makes excellent use of a grappling hook & he is a clever little bugger in battle. BAD  AT :   most creative pursuits / for some reason most animals don’t like him. ironic, since mommy was a hunter and her lioness adored him. TURN  ONS :   no TURN  OFFS :   no HOBBIES :   tailoring, traveling. TROPES :    Undead Child / Creepy Child / Creepy Cute / Not Growing Up Sucks / Break/Corrupt the Cutie / Teens Are Monsters / Don’t You Dare Pity Me! / Took A Level In Badass / Dark Is Not Evil / The Kindness Of Strangers / Teens Are Short / Youthful Freckles / Conflicting Loyalty / Expecting Someone Taller / Momma’s Boy QUOTES :   “tenacity… ambition… power. these are the virtues the forsaken need to survive.” / “no one’s innocent in war.” / “sure, i’m never gonna be too old for hallow’s end candy & winter’s veil presents, but i also know greatfather winter’s a guy in a suit & i can’t find any friends my own age.”

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC / S : chandler riggs as carl grimes in the walking dead, because i couldn’t find anyone better. ALT  FC / S :  did you know teen actors are actually really hard to find? OLDER  FC / S :   n/a YOUNGER  FC / S :   n/a VOICE  CLAIM / S :   n/a GENDERBENT  FC / S :   n/a

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :   if  you  could  write  your  character  your  way  in  their  own movie ,   what  would  it  be  called ,  what  style  would  it  be filmed  in ,  and  what  would  it  be  about ?          

    it’d be basically the “rogue one” to warcraft’s star wars. a side story in the universe, for a baby budding hero among the undead ; structured similarly to the first warcraft movie, with the horde plot & the alliance plot colliding, except much less tedious about its exposition in the first third. also the alliance main character would be his mommy.

Q2 :   what  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like ?          

   grunge-y rock music about darkness and violent thoughts and defiance ; or just some simple music-box-esque melodies with poetic lyrics about internal conflict. and probably remixes of the background music that plays in tirisfal.

Q3 :   why  did  you  start  writing  this  character ?

   because i have always loved the forsaken. i only played a trial back when wrath was newly a thing and remember literally nothing about vanilla wow, but i think i realized at some point early on when i properly joined the fandom that the forsaken have a) always been my favourite undead from anything ever, in that they’re everything i’ve always wanted to see (zombies with an actual culture of their own, with a matriarch and a dark outlook on life but still having fun doing their thing) and b) those brief, very faded memories of the forsaken from back then have inspired how i draw undead characters. notably in the shoulders and the ribs, i think. maybe the hands too idk. i remember the first time i tried drawing a forsaken when first entering the fandom, and it felt like i’d done it before but god help me i would never be able to confirm that. but it felt so natural to me anyway. ... uh, anyway, mal in particular. um, out of the oc concepts that i had, he felt like the one that would be the easiest to throw at people and dump wherever to interact without needing to stretch too hard to force interaction.

Q4 :   what  first  attracted  you  to  this  character ?          

   he is my oc and i love him. he’s smol, cute, and i can get a variety of character flavours out of him from the sweet, inspired child to the nasty, flesh-eating monster.

Q5 :   describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse.        

    muse for this brat keeps avoiding me. B’T he also keeps developing in my head before he has any reason to change. i basically have his character arc plotted before it can even happen, or before i can even be sure of what’ll happen as the plot goes on.

Q6 :   what  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse ?          

   he’s an inch shorter than me, so, uh, both smol. brown eyes, though his haven’t been brown in a long time. personality-wise, we both kind of go at our own pace which isn’t really slow but also isn’t quite the progress we want or need it to be.

Q7 :   how  does  your  muse  feel  about  you ?          

    i’m p sure he’d just kind of tolerate me because i’m living and human and would probably insist on trying to cuddle him if my hatred of kids (or my common sense... or my sense of smell) doesn’t take precedence over my love for my baby. probably best-case scenario for me tbh in that he’d be okay with me rather than trying to straight-up kill me lmao :’3

Q8 :   what  characters  does  your  muse  have  interesting  interactions  with ?        

   everyone tbh??? but especially sylvanas, anduin, jaina, thassarian ; & on the oc side of things, euanthe (also artan & mitun but particularly the former thESE TWO ARE IDIOTS), kal’rokh, the stuff with aquler is starting out strong, mar...

Q9 :   what  gives  you  inspiration  to  write  your  muse ?        

    i will figure that out someday, and exploit it so that i’m not sitting here with TWENTY DRAFTS & doing none of them. 8′)))

Q10 :   how  long  did  this  take  you  to  complete ?

     ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[hctchered]

RULES. repost, don’t reblog. tag ten. TAGGED. No one TAGGING:  Anyone who feels like doing it

BASICS.

FULL  NAME.   Claire Esther Hatcher NICKNAME.   Doc, Hatch, various other ones probably AGE.   22 (in 1944) BIRTHDAY.   August 19th 1922 ETHNIC GROUP.   White European, Ashkenazi Jewish NATIONALITY.   British, American LANGUAGE / S. English, a little French, a few phrases German (for war purposes), a tiny bit of Hebrew (mainly post-war) SEXUAL ORIENTATION.   Bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION.  Biromantic RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Verse dependant - either single or in a relationship with Mick McCarthy CLASS.   Working HOME TOWN / AREA.  Cambridge, United Kingdom/Portland, Oregon, United States of America CURRENT HOME.  Portland, Oregon, United States of America PROFESSION.   US Army combat medic

PHYSICAL.

HAIR. Blonde EYES.  Blue with some grey NOSE.  Pretty narrow with a slightly up-turned tip?? FACE.  Kinda oval shaped I guess? Just look at her face, tbh LIPS.  Bottom lip is fuller than upper, kinda small-ish I guess? Again, look at her face tbh COMPLEXION. Relatively pale, but with a light tan BLEMISHES. Birth mark above her lips, on the left side. Another on her left hip SCARS. Too many, tbh. Lots from when she was a kid, multiple on her hands, arms and legs from the war. A big one on her upper left arm after being hit my shrapnel TATTOOS. A Star of David on her wrist (right, I think I said) with something that looks like and M in the middle (made post-war). An eagle on her back for the 101st that she made as a dare during a free weekend at some point during training. HEIGHT. 5′5″ WEIGHT. Idk BUILD.   Kinda slender, but still kinda strong? Look at Eliza, tbh FEATURES. Kinda sharp lines on her face, but relatively softer-looking body.  ALLERGIES. Sheep wool, which she’s really pissed off about USUAL HAIR STYLE.  Usually just left to do whatever, with a few pieces pinned back to keep her face kinda free of them USUAL FACE LOOK.   Scowling, or looking kinda annoyed and/or concerned USUAL CLOTHING.  Uniform during the war, post war usually something comfortable like jeans or normal trousers and like a shirt or t-shirt. She’s really not a dress person, tbh.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S. Losing people, failing to save someone, being the only one left ASPIRATION / S.   Saving people, getting better at her job POSITIVE TRAITS.  Determined, selfless (in many ways),  NEGATIVE TRAITS.  Reckless, easily angered  MBTI.  ENTP ZODIAC. Leo TEMPEREMENT.  Choleric SOUL TYPE / S. Performer and Hunter ANIMALS. Eagle VICE HABIT / S.   FAITH. Catholic Christian/None/Judaism GHOSTS? Probably not AFTERLIFE? No REINCARNATION? No (even though I love those kinds of AUs lmao) ALIENS? No POLITICAL ALIGNMENT.  Not sure ECONOMIC PREFERENCE. Not sure SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION. Liberal, probably. Not sure tbh. Claire really isn’t a politics person at all. EDUCATION LEVEL.  Low - only went to school up to age like 13

FAMILY.

FATHER.  Harold Hatcher MOTHER. Devorah Hatcher (née Lecuyer) SIBLINGS.   Harold “Harry Hatcher (b.1917) and James Hatcher (b.1919) EXTENDED  FAMILY.   Avigail Lecuyer (aunt), George “Georgie” Lecuyer (cousin, RAF bomber pilot, killed in 1944), Natanel Lecuyer (grandfather) and Esther Lecuyer (née Astruc, grandmother) NAME MEANING / S.   Claire: clear, famous Esther: star (in Persian) Hatcher: topographic name for someone who lived by a gate, from Middle English hacche (Old English hæcc) + the agent suffix -er. This normally denoted a gate marking the entrance to a forest or other enclosed piece of land, sometimes a floodgate or sluice-gate.

(I’m yelling I love that tbh)

HISTORICAL CONNECTION Claire is a traditionally French name, and Claire’s mum very much wanted to name one of her children something’s French. Esther is her grandmother’s name, and also a very important person in Judaism, and Devorah wanted to keep that connection, despite having converted from Judaism. 

FAVOURITES.

BOOK. Peter Pan MOVIE.  The Wizard Of Oz 5 SONGS.   (Going to do ones that kinda remind me of her again) Streetfight - Smallpools, 30 Seconds - Vinyl Theatre, Settle Down - The 1975, When That Man Is Dead And Gone - Glenn Miller, Run - Hozier DEITY.   None/the Jewish God HOLIDAY.  Rosh Hashanah  MONTH.   May SEASON.   Spring PLACE.   Downtown Portland WEATHER. Warm with a gentle breeze SOUND.  Rain on roof SCENT / S. Anything other than death and blood, tbh TASTE / S.  Coffee FEEL / S.  Soft hands on skin, water running over hands ANIMAL / S.   Cats, dogs NUMBER.  None COLOR.  The colours of the sunrise/sunset

EXTRA.

TALENTS.  Singing (a little bit), being salty/sarcastic, getting drunk BAD  AT.   Respect, listening, cooking, drawing, writing (nicely) TURN  ONS.  A lot of things TURN  OFFS.  Not a lot of things tbh HOBBIES.  Drinking, smoking, making sure her men are safe TROPES.  The Drunk Medic™ AESTHETICS.   Blood on snow, bruised knuckles, cocky smiles, dirty uniforms

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC / S. Eliza Taylor ALT  FC / S. - OLDER  FC / S.  - YOUNGER  FC / S. Sophie Nélisse VOICE  CLAIM / S.  Eliza Taylor’s American accent, but with some British in there

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1.   if you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about? A1.  I would love to either see her in her canon setting, following what it would have potentially been like for a female medic if they would have been allowed in the US Army. Or like something where she’s the leader of like a biker gang or something, all in leather and looking fierce af.

Q2.   what would their soundtrack / score sound like? A2.  Similar to the Pacific Rim soundtrack probably, or TRON Legacy-vibes

Q3.   why did you start writing this character? A3. I had just rewatched Band Of Brothers and was home alone just hanging out for a week and I came up with a very basic character idea what I started working on and then made a blog for. Claire has obviously changed A LOT since then, but her basic version was a Band Of Brothers that pretty much right away turned fandomless, because I preferred that idea.

Q4.   what first attracted you to this character? A4. So many things... I love the idea of women in WWII and doing more than what they did, and I just wanted to explore writing a character that was one out of very few women doing something that has always been very male-oriented.

Q5.   describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5.  Oh man... She’s just so crazy reckless and just won’t care about her own life or safety, if it means she can save someone else.

Q6.   what do you have in common with your muse? A6.  Not that much, I don’t think. I mean, when I started out we had nothing except our gender in common, but writing her has kinda made me grow and I’m a lot more outspoken and stuff than I used to be? I also won’t stop talking about fighting people so... there’s that too.

Q7.   how does your muse feel about you? A7.  She probably hates me, let’s be real here.

Q8.   what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with? A8. I’ve loved all her interactions with Mick in the past, they’re so amazing. But right now, @hxllbilly and Claire are being two of my faves, and I’m really loving what I’ve either done or planned with @imhohenschloss . But tbh, I love most of the things I’ve done so far and I feel like most things are interesting, even though I do have my favourite threads. 

Q9.   what gives you the inspiration to write your muse? A9.  So many things, but war movies and shows always sparks some muse. Same does music and just a lot of things. She’s one of my strongest muses, tbh.

Q10. how long did this take you to complete? A10. 24+ hours, haha. Finishing this during Eurovision voting lmao.