#sorry for the low effort post and lack of activity

[spinnysocks]

ok but it would've been so cool if the leaders of scar's army were scarred as part of their initiation into the army, like this awesome artwork on deviantart! :D

[creatingblackcharacters]

I apologise for reblogging so many of your resources and then not actually doing much with them creation wise. 

I was unhappy with some of my art and looked for ways to improve which is how I found this page… however I’m still pretty art blocked and intimidated by the process. RL is also a lot.

Anyway! I was wondering if it would ever be cool to make a Black lady character just because I need a character and she can just as well be Black? (Provided it’s respectful and she’s well thought out.)

——

Also I had an ask about hairstyles for her. She’s one of the employees in a library-slash-archive that both preserves mysterious artifacts and contains supernatural cryptids that are too powerful to easily be destroyed. So she dresses like a librarian but has to be practical enough to handle danger like Canary from Hunter X Hunter.

For some reason I thought about twin puffs on top of her head (from seeing that on a fashion model and Aika). So far this is my favourite and how I see her. Quick, low tension, out of the way, doesn’t change the texture of her natural 4c hair. But are twin buns too juvenile or anime? She’s a young adult in her twenties and a smart competent lady. 

To make her have one big pineapple a bit like the stereotypical librarian bun might make her seem a bit more mature or more senior at her job when she’s one of the younger employees temporarily assigned to guard/guide/escort the player. (There is already an older Black lady higher up in a different role but she might not appear as she’s not my own character.)

Are puffs too casual? 

Locs and braids with beads could swish around come untied and slap into her eyes if something unexpectedly happened. 

But cornrows straight back seem a bit utilitarian if the wards are in place and she isn’t expecting active combat. I also don’t know if they’re tighter braids that can be uncomfortable or hard on someone’s scalp when worn everyday as an unchanging long term style? (These could go to someone who is expected to regularly be fighting.)

Are there natural styles that are reliable go tos for work?

She looks cool but likes comfort. Her clothes are dark academia inspired and not revealing. It’s possible the style of someone’s clothing/uniform or hair is a bit different according to their role or rank. It must look smart but there is some room for individuality.

(Some suggestions for the higher up Black archaeologist who usually looks very feminine but is on a dig/artifact retrieval mission would also be appreciated! I know she would need to protect her hair from dust or the pulling of the ether but I am aware there were historical racist laws/misogynoir about hair coverings and I am unfamiliar with styles of wraps.)

——

Also her manner. She’s professional but knows the dangers so gets annoyed and a bit snarky when the player does dumb things or disobeys a direction that is to keep them safe. She might roll her eyes at the choices made or ask ‘really?’ If the player gets themselves killed after running into harms way or being told not to touch something, she may finally call them a fool.

Is this playing into stereotypes of being sassy or having ‘an attitude’ or is it normal behaviour when the player is truly being a dumbass and maybe it’s a bit funny?

——

Anyway there’s no pressure to answer this. Sorry if I should have looked at hair guides for myself, I just don’t have a sensitivity reader or anything. 

Thanks if you read all of it and thanks for creating these resources. 

I may not draw a lot but I’m seeing other artists pick your posts up too and am noticing increasing variety in the hairstyles and skin tones of everybody’s Black characters.

-Why would that not be okay? Deciding your character is Black just because you want them to be is fine, it's the lack of effort afterwards that shows an issue.

-Double puffs are fine, people can do what they want with their hair. If that's what she wants to do with it, it's her style, who cares how anyone feels about it? A singular afro puff doesn't, in my opinion, designate maturity? Like... The rest of the outfit would do that before an afro puff would. I've seen people of all ages wear puffs.

-She could also wear cornrows if she wanted cornrows. It is just a style! It's not like any of the styles we wear are mandatory or "not allowed unless specific times". Some people just like wearing cornrows, I have a coworker who always wears hers just because she likes them. Yeah, all protective styles feel tight at first due to the manipulation of the hair. It loosens up after some time (assuming it was done right and they weren't terribly heavyhanded to your head).

-The natural styles we pick would depend on 1) us as a person, 2) how much time we're willing to put in, and 3) the job we have (and hair discrimination, if that is present). So no, there's no strict "go to".

-I think you need to look up the time period that you're referencing for the older archaeologist, to see what hairstyles are available.

I'll be firm but honest with you: I do think that you need to reread the lessons or attempt your own digging here, and I say that because I feel like you came here guilty for not having done so. I have those lessons on stereotypes for Black women and how to avoid those, I have those lessons on hair styles and things to consider, and even links on hair history and hair discrimination. So I'll admit your apology did make me uncomfortable, in that regard.

As for my outreach, I should hope people are looking and trying new things! I can only hope their excitement for Black character design extends to their Black peers as well 🙏🏾 thank you!

[jadewolf22]

The Race

Phasma x Daughter!OC (Riot)

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Summary: Phasma’s chaotic daughter challenges Kylo Ren to a race.

A/n: I’m back!! So sorry I haven’t posted in a while. Life’s been crazy and I’ve had 0 motivation to write.

Word Count: 881

The dim lighting of the Finalizer’s main hangar gleamed off its polished surfaces, the faint hum of machinery providing a steady backdrop to the usual hustle of troopers and technicians. Phasma stood at the edge of the expanse, arms folded, her polished armor reflecting the activity. Yet her sharp eyes weren’t focused on the routine movements of the hangar. They were locked on a particular figure—her daughter, Riot, clad in an all-black training suit.  

Phasma's stoic demeanor threatened to crack as she watched Riot standing toe-to-toe with none other than Kylo Ren. The competitive gleam in her daughter's eyes was unmistakable.  

"You seriously think you can beat me?" Kylo’s voice was a low rumble, muffled by his mask.  

Riot grinned, a wild, unhinged energy lighting her features. "No. I know I can."  

Kylo tilted his head, clearly irritated. "And what’s your grand idea for this… challenge?"  

Riot pointed up toward the hangar’s towering ceiling, where the rafters stretched across like a web of metal beams. "Simple. First one to climb to the top, touch the highest beam, and get back down wins. No Jedi tricks, no equipment. Just you, me, and some good old-fashioned effort."  

The mask tilted downward slightly, as if Kylo were sizing up the distance. "You’re insane."  

"I’ve been called worse," Riot quipped, flashing a mischievous smile.  

Phasma shook her head, wishing that she could be surprised by her daughter’s antics. She muttered to herself, "She's either going to win or have an extended stay in the med bay… or possibly I."  

The crackling announcement of General Hux’s arrival pulled her attention momentarily.  

“Captain Phasma.” Hux’s crisp tone sliced through the hangar as he strode up beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. “What exactly is happening here?”  

Phasma glanced sideways at him, the faintest flicker of amusement playing across her usually impassive face hidden beneath her helmet. “My daughter has challenged Kylo Ren to a race,” she said matter-of-factly.  

“A race,” Hux repeated, incredulous.  

Phasma nodded. “To the rafters and back.”  

Hux blinked at her, then shifted his gaze to the unfolding chaos in front of him. Riot had already started limbering up, stretching dramatically while goading Kylo.  

“Afraid of heights, Ren?” she teased, stepping up to the starting point.  

Kylo’s grip on his lightsaber hilt visibly tightened before he snapped it onto his belt. Without another word, he moved to stand next to her.  

“On three,” Riot said, raising her hand. “One… two…” Before she could finish, Kylo lunged forward, starting the race early.  

“Hey!” she yelled, laughing as she sprinted after him.  

Phasma resisted the urge to shake her head. "She’s definitely insane."  

The two competitors scrambled up the side scaffolding, using handholds, crates, and structural supports to ascend. Riot’s smaller, more agile frame gave her an edge, and she quickly pulled ahead, her speed startling even Phasma.  

“She's winning,” Hux said, disbelief coloring his voice as he watched Riot practically monkey her way upward, swinging from beams and vaulting over obstacles with ease.  

Phasma hummed noncommittally. “Of course, she is.”  

Kylo was slower but determined, his raw strength making up for what he lacked in finesse. He hauled himself up methodically, but each time he got close, Riot seemed to gain a fresh burst of energy, cackling with delight.  

By the time she reached the top, Kylo was still three-quarters of the way there. She balanced on the highest beam, looking down at him.  

“Come on, slowpoke!” she called, her voice ringing out. “You’re making this too easy!”  

Then, with reckless abandon, she back-flipped off the damn beam.  

Phasma felt her heart lurch, though her expression remained calm. Hux, however, visibly paled. “Is she out of her mind?!”  

“She’s fine,” Phasma replied, though internally she was bracing for the inevitable med bay visit.  

Riot landed halfway down with a feline grace, catching onto a ledge and swinging herself to a lower beam before continuing her descent at breakneck speed. By the time she hit the ground, Kylo had just touched the highest beam.  

Riot raised her arms in triumph, a wild grin plastered across her face as she caught her breath. “And that’s how it’s done!” she declared, drawing the attention of a few nearby troopers.  

When Kylo finally descended, his cloak catching on various edges, he stomped toward her, breathing heavily.  

Riot patted him on the back as he approached, the height difference between them making the gesture almost comical. “Thanks for the workout!” she said cheerfully, brushing past him as if he hadn’t just been thoroughly humiliated.  

Kylo’s rage was palpable, the air around him practically vibrating. As Riot strode away, he extended a hand toward a crate, using the Force to hurl it at the back of her head.  

But she twisted suddenly, as if sensing it coming. With a smooth motion, she pulled a concealed dagger from her boot and hurled it back at him.  

The blade stopped inches from Kylo’s face, quivering in midair as he caught it with the Force. For a moment, the hangar was silent.  

she smirked, cocking her head. “Nice reflexes.” she taunted, turning and walking away without another glance.  

Hux, jaw hanging open in shock, turned to Phasma. “What the hell just happened?”  

Phasma didn’t answer, her helmet hiding the small, proud smile threatening to break free.

[iniziare]

🔥 let the salt fly

We're gonna start big, because I don't censor myself when I reblog this meme. Sorry, ladies— but female characters aren't struggling because of some internalized and deep-rooted sense of misogyny (except maybe I harbor some of that by now because my god, do the 'support women' posts and 'it's so difficult, guys' defenses getting really tiring), they're struggling because of your own sense of entitlement. Fine, okay, do people flock to male characters a little faster? Certainly, but that's not because people hate women (again, maybe me in 2025...), but maybe it's because most of us seem to be or identify as women, and so we may enjoy writing and writing with something and someone vastly detached from ourselves. I know I definitely do.

Outside of that, you don't have to hire yourself a bulldozer to break through the big walls of oppression and misogyny, you're able to get interaction just fine. You know how? Just put your bloody mind to it. Getting interaction doesn't come from following a large amount of people, posting a starter call, and expecting them to mass-like it on day one, people aren't going to automatically flock to you like that. Newsflash: that happens only to the most select few blogs by some stroke of sheer luck. Finding interaction means engaging with your own muse first and foremost, and also with other people's. If I go on your new blog for this new female character whether she's canon or an OC, and I find only some fancy graphics, a page of information, a starter call, and nothing else, I'm not very tempted to follow you, or to engage with the blog. Does that sound cruel to your potentially sensitive, and oppressed ears? Listen, setting up a blog takes some effort, certainly, but that on its own doesn't do enough— because guess what, it's even easier to abandon a blog. I want to see you engage with your own muse, I want to see that you are interested in the muse that you write, because if I see none of that, then why would you be interested in interacting with mine, from said muse? I consider that chance to be quite low, and the chance to see you disappear within a week incredibly high. People who actively talk about their muses, the people who actively engage left, right, and center, those will find interaction time, and time again. And wallowing on your blog, or people's notes, about how 'others don't understand how much harder it is', give me a break.

If you're struggling? I would dare to bet that you're not putting in the effort, and instead you're claiming victim mentality, and hoping that the world comes to lay itself down at your feet in pity. That, or you're playing into one of two popular 'stereotypes' (for lack of a better word): with which I mean that your blog has plenty of 'ship with me' undertones (don't worry, male muse blogs have that plenty as well), or it's obvious that you're seeking that— or, you're playing into the all-powerful 'step on you' female character trope that we all love to hate in !@#$%^ abundance. But I'll reserve a salt post for that one. On the shipping topic though? Let me give you guys an example: when I first made Guizhong's single muse blog, I made it because I loved her character first and foremost, and did I come to enjoy the ship of Guizhong/Zhongli as I spent time researching? Yes. But guess what I wasn't here for, that ship. It came second, it has always come second— but the amount of Guizhong blogs that I came across that were obviously looking around for a Zhongli were insane. But in the same way, I also see Zhongli blogs made just to seek out and write the popular ship with Childe, I also see Wriothesley blogs who seem to be around only to find their Neuvillette to ship with, and nothing else (my god, don't get me started on how much you can do with either of those characters outside of these ships— AAAAA, god, I swear, I am not your strongest soldier).

But do you now see why I harp, and harp, and harp, on people needing to actually show investment and engagement with their own muses? It is the best, and quite frankly, the only way to dodge the allegations. And before you go 'but those are unfair, Sae', guess what, muffin pie fruitcake, stereotypes exist for a reason, and reputations exist for a reason— we didn't just go and make all of that up just because we hate women, don't worry. Just, take it from a woman who has written plenty of women, and still is, you can do it. You just need to tear up your little victim and entitlement cards, and put in the work. Oh, and maybe wait to try and ship with popular male characters until... you know.

Prompt: 🔥for an unpopular opinion. // @intcritus // Selectively accepting

[soulgathered]

INTRODUCTION

I'm on a semi hiatus until further notice ♥ ( 14th april until at least end of june ) hi, you can call me fuchs or fox, I go by she / they pronouns . this is a low effort blog, my icons won't all be homogeneous, they are all from different blogs / times where my aesthetic changed. I am also only slowly adding about pages for my muses & canon muses will only get the bare minimum as to avoid spoilers. you will find on this blog muses from different media but mainly mythology, final fantasy XIV & original characters

INTERACTIONS

✦ I only interact with mutuals & I only interact with people who are of age .

✦  please use the tag soulgathered when tagging / threading with me, this makes it easier for me to find posts on your blog & tumblr in general .

✦ low activity, this is not my main blog & I show up when inspiration hits & when I am not tired from work

✦ I will tag triggers as WORD cw

✦ Personally I ask that animal & child death, drug use, visual gore & explosions be tagged

✦ While not a trigger of mine I sometimes check on tumblr during work so if you post visual nsfw without tags I will most likely unfollow

✦ in general : if you do not use a bare minimum of tags I will automatically not follow .

✦ racism, transphobia, homophobia, antisemitism & any form of bigotry is not tolerated at all

✦ English is my third language so bear with me please.

SHIPPING

✦ muses who are underaged are not available for shipping

✦ I am open to shipping with my adult muses but I very much like talking about ships over discord & properly fleshing things out

✦ not much of a smut writer due to a lack of talent, may answer a nsfw drabble ask here & there tho

✦ I will not write SA, dubcon & the like - while such themes are very much present with some of my muses ( especially the mythological ones ) I will not write those topics out.

OTHER

✦ please keep in mind some muses deal with mature themes, while I will tag things, darker topics such as war may be present here.

✦ any art on here is from their respective artists ( credit page can be found on my blog ) or is from their canon source material - any art of my warrior of lights, those are commissions but are usually reblogged from the original artist or link back to their pages ! do not use that art for your own wols / OCs please.

✦ spoilers for things will all have the general tag "spoiler cw" but also additional tags for their media: for example "ffxiv spoilers cw" ( I will also always tag ffxiv patch spoilers until the next patch drops )

✦ not much into drama. if someone reblogs a lot of drama / vagues / posts a lot of negativity I will unfollow

✦ sometimes people simply do not mix, feel free to softblock or hardblock. That is a thing between us & I won't make a big show out of it

✦ I do not interact with self-inserts / kin rp blogs. sorry.

✦ do not follow me if you follow or reblog from tam,//amita ( i am obscuring the name for my own safety sorry )

[musingmemories]

⸻ 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ;; an independent, private & highly selective multi muse feat. female canon muses from beloved fandoms. a beautiful blend of canon/canon divergent & headcanon influences. activity is sporadic to low. dark themes will appear & this blog is not spoiler free, proceed with caution. duplicate & crossover/AU friendly. penned by 𝐋. she/her, 25+, beta editor user, discord RP available upon request. 21+ only, minors & personals dni. ( 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐: #𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 ) ​

𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐦𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐞) last updated 4/29/2025

𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬/𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬/𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫

Just a few rules before we get started! (Sorry if I sound strict in advance… I’m literally not but am trying to sound professional!! I usually use emojis and exclamation points and CAPS 🥹✨)

Not minor friendly. Dark themes present and I do not tag triggers unless privately requested. If you’re uncomfortable with that, you’re welcome to hit the block button. Comfort-wise, I will not be interacting with anyone under the age of 21. For plot purposes, my characters are aged to be 18+.

It’s 2025, I live in America, I’m a woman of color and I’m tired. This is my safe place, my escape from reality and creative outlet, and I’m trying to be a harbor for those seeking it too. So please don’t be an asshole and please keep me out of drama, callouts, and cancel culture. Hate of any kind is not tolerated here. There is enough of it going on in the world. The block button is there for a reason.

This blog is low activity/based on muse. I’ve got a job and a new puppy and a life outside of all that keeps me busy, so I just ask for ✨patience✨ because I promise I love all of our threads and put a lot of thought into them when I’m able to write and give myself time to make graphics/find gifs. 

Please take your time as well, there’s never any rush on replies with me. You can reply to a thread that’s a year old and I’m still hyped for it. It’s also okay to drop threads, I don’t need to be told, and if you wanna start something new, I’m here for it. Spam me memes/prompts or send a DM if you’ve got an idea. I’m also here for plotting beforehand via DMs or Discord (mutuals only). Memes are a great way to get started, and they never expire! I like to make them as starter-friendly as possible, so feel free to reply to them!

I’m selective when it comes to following. I tend not to follow blogs that use large fonts or color fonts (constantly like, majority of the writing is in color) as it’s hard for me to read. If I follow back it means I’m interested in writing with you! But I will say in advance, for the cleanliness of my dash, if we do not interact within a few months of following each other (ie: no exchanging of memes or a DM or not interacting with me if I react to your plot/starter/meme call a couple times) I will unfollow due to assumed lack of interest. I don’t do soft blocking or any of that, just in case we want to try again in the future!

I write novella style, third person POV descriptive replies, use small font, gifs, icons and banners (optional! if you prefer I don't use them, lmk!), and trim my posts. I prefer short to mid-length paragraphs, and I don’t expect my writing partners to match length. I just ask for effort, like if I reply descriptively with a few paragraphs and receive only a couple sentences in response, it feels like wasted time on my part. I rarely write one-liners.

SHIP WITH ME! This blog is shipping central, I love them, I adore them, probably want the same ship you do or I’m always down to explore new ones. I do go by chemistry between our characters, and I’m very romance/angst focused. All of my characters are queer. So please don’t hesitate to spam me with your musings and ship inspo. I’m so here for it and am a fellow spammer myself! Of course just let me know ahead of time if you’re looking for platonic.

Unless the original post blog was deactivated, please try to reblog from the source! I am not a RPH and the people that work so hard to provide for our lovely rpc deserve all the credit. This includes promos for roleplayers posted by the Mun themselves, memes/prompts lists, graphics, muse/ship inspo, etc.

[gladiolidiaries]

sorry long doomer rant incoming. do you think snf actually care about their fans at all anymore because they've obviously seen the posts on reddit and know how upset fans are about no content and they still dont do anything about it. i miss the days when george went live because ppl saw him in his chat. 2023 george would never do that because he doesn't care what we want. i know dream still cares because hes the one trying to organise the dteam streams and without dream initiating that i don't think we would ever get 3/3 streams. its not a lack of time issue because they're always playing games off stream. the problem is they dont want to put the effort in anymore which is crazy because its one of the most low effort jobs you could have. its frustrating to me when they pop into someones stream for an hour and wont stream for weeks because thats supposed to be satisfactory enough for fans. they like filming banter because its replacing streaming and they feel productive but content creation is something that needs to be enjoyable to watch as fans and for the cc to create but they're just fucking themselves over by not caring about us when they're losing fans at an alarming rate if they wanna continue being ccs at least for the next few years.

my drolo demons are coming out but this doesn't really apply to dream because he's always been a ytber more so than streamer. hes been busy since january working on music, usmp and getting back into yt. i know a lot of ppl here dont care for drusic but it's something he's passionate about so as long as hes not abandoning yt for music idc if he pursues it.

i think that snf only care to some extent. they definitely also read the subreddit and have streamed after people complained like literally two weeks ago so they know and it does affect them. but for some reason they (mostly sapnap i think?) really really love Banter right now. they want to travel with karl, do banter live shows, do panels with ONLY banter, no question of also having dream in that panel.

overall i dont know what to think of it i'm like processing it i guess, seeing how things are day to day and stuff. but the next two months are definitely not gonna be for me so i might just take a break or something and be a lot less active on here, trying to touch more grass and lose the hyperfix. not interested in snf if they aren't with dream or not even creating content the two of them cause now we gotta deal with karl all the time.

like i just want solo gnf streams, snf streams or dteam streams and sometimes youtube videos. but getting that is astronomically rare.

[thecairomuse]

hi babe, I was wondering what your practical tips are for dealing with depression, im currently waiting to start therapy, but I need some day to day tips while im waiting if you have any ❤🥰

Heyy, I hope you are doing well. First off, I'M SO PROUD OF YOU and I am so happy that you are actively working on improving your life.

I am thankful to say that I have never really struggled with major depression, but I am human, and oftentimes I go through low-vibrational periods or what are most commonly know as 'ruts' (they usually last a few months up to a year or two). They tend not to be very surface level and is mostly an internal struggle. These are just periods in life when I am unable to put in any effort, but the bare minimum, in all aspects of my life, I tend to be unmotivated, lack discipline and clarity and can often suffer with low self-esteem, usually a cause of external factors and a longing for change.

I recently got myself out of a pretty bad place, I was stressed, burnout, emotionally unstable and barley getting by and I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. What helped me was a 'reset'/ 'transition' period, this time was devoted on working on myself and feeling my best. I was doing things that made me happy and healthy and I was working towards my goals. This made some MAJOR changes in my life. Some practical tips I have for you:

Exercise! it releases the 'feel good' hormones we all know and love.

Cut out processed foods, completely

Strengthen your faith and spirituality

Reverse any negative self-talk you may have participated in, in the past by using affirmations

Do not engage in self-deprecating talk and behavior

Define your goals, and set a 1 year, 5 year and 10 year plan to keep you motivated

Pick up a new hobby

Find new friends, meeting different people is so fun

Do things that you enjoy but that you would deprive yourself of before

Build healthy habits

Get 8 hours of sleep, no buts

Listen to music that makes you feel alive

Get out in nature more often

Step out of your comfort zone when you are ready

Journal, about everything

Carry a camera (a proper one) with you everywhere, and document everything

Live intentionally and in the present

List 3 things that you are grateful for each night

Take care of your hygiene, if you haven't been doing that already

Figure out what makes you feel good, whether that be running or having your hair done, and do it!

You have to realize that your journey will be full of ups and downs, and it's not going to be easy, but that you will persevere.

My messages/ inbox is always open if you need to talk.

P.S sorry for the late reply, this was buried in my drafts, as are many posts

[melanielocke]

Illicit Affairs

A while ago I wrote a fic about Alastair’s relationship with Charles and posted it on AO3 (titled Tolerate it there) 

The original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31293734

I rewrote it because some of the details were wrong and some parts I didn’t like anymore, so I’m posting the new one here. 

CW: toxic relationship, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), some of which sort of pressured (Since Alastair is a minor, it definitely cannot be considered consensual), mentions of alcoholism

It had been a long time since Alastair had visited the Paris Institute. Last time must have been the Herondale party when he was fourteen. It was a magnificent building, often said to be second only to the London Institute, and the second largest in Europe. He would be staying here for a year, away from his family. He’d pressed his parents about it for months. They’d thought he was too young for a travel year at sixteen, but after speaking of it with his mother he’d been allowed to go. Alastair guessed she felt sorry for him, being trapped at home again, and had decided he deserved a break.

Paris would be a chance to start over, or at least he hoped so. He’d thought the same of Shadowhunter Academy though, and what a disaster that had been… He didn’t quite dare hope here would be better, but he did know Charles Fairchild would be here and the few times they’d met he’d been very kind to him. Alastair had met him here, ironically, at the Herondale’s party when he was fourteen. Alastair had been so eager to impress powerful people, and Charles had seemed very impressed with his manners and his knowledge on shadowhunter politics. They’d started writing each other letters, and Charles had become Alastair’s first real friend. He certainly didn’t consider any of the boys from school his friends.

About a year ago Charles had sent him a copy of Machiavelli’s the Prince, which had become his favorite book. And recently Charles had informed him that he would move to Paris for a year to replace the head of the Institute, and had suggested he come there for his travel year. He was a bit young, that was true, but being so isolated wasn’t good for his progress and even his parents couldn’t deny that spending time with the consul’s eldest son was good for their family’s social standing.

He entered, carrying his bags with him. He’d tried to pack lightly, but Risa and his mother had added all kinds of things over the past week and now it was still heavy even for a trained shadowhunter to carry on his own.

‘You must be Mr. Carstairs,’ a woman said.

Judging from her dress and lack of runes, Alastair guessed she must be one of the mundane servants here.

‘That’s right,’ he said.

‘I’m Madeleine,’ she said, ‘I’m a maid here. Come, I’ll show you to your room.’

He followed the servant woman to a bedroom, where Alastair dropped his bags. Madeleine left him there to unpack, and Alastair took his time. He hated mess, and preferred it when everything had its proper place. He’d packed a few of his favorite daggers, and took them out, looking carefully for a proper place for them.

After a while he noticed someone was standing in the doorway. Familiar red hair, styled carefully, and dressed in a stylish grey suit. Charles Fairchild. He didn’t look much like his younger brother, and although everyone was always fussing about Matthew’s looks, Alastair preferred Charles’ serious face, the way he dressed like someone powerful instead of like a clown.

‘Look at you, all grown up,’ Charles said. ‘It’s been a while, Alastair. I’m glad to see you arrived.’

Alastair hadn’t seen Charles in person in over a year. He still looked very handsome, and Alastair was glad he was here. Everything was better than being home around his father.  

‘I’m glad to see you too,’ Alastair said. ‘Congratulations on making interim head of the institute.’

‘Thanks. It is a great opportunity for me. I feel like every shadowhunter politician should have some experience at an institute. Growing up in Idris leaves one a bit sheltered from the harsh realities of Shadowhunter life, I’m afraid.’

Alastair wondered where his childhood fit in. He certainly hadn’t grown up somewhere safe and sheltered, but if it made him a better Shadowhunter he had no idea.

‘That’s why many shadowhunters take a travel year, don’t we?’ Alastair said.

‘Exactly. I lived in London myself before coming here, although of course that is where my family is from and demonic activity there is exceptionally low. Come, I’ll show you around the institute. I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks myself, but I have figured out the lay out.’

Charles showed him around, leading him to the main hall where most of the meetings were held.

‘You’re not yet old enough to be in enclave meetings, are you?’ Charles asked.

‘I will turn seventeen in a month,’ Alastair said. ‘So no, not yet.’

‘Shame, I think you would do well. Of course, I will give you permission to come and watch. That way, you’ll still learn plenty.’

Did Charles really think he would do well?

‘You’re very mature for your age,’ Charles continued. ‘Nothing like my brother. I can’t believe you’re only sixteen.’

Alastair did not want to discuss Charles’ younger brother, but was flattered Charles thought he was mature. Of course, he had to be, since he’d had to take care of his father from a young age. Being young and immature was a luxury Alastair did not have, unlike Matthew Fairchild.

‘I think I would like to watch enclave meetings,’ Alastair said.

Charles showed him to the training rooms next, and asked him about his preference for weapons and Alastair told him about his spears.

‘Spears, huh? I thought I saw you with daggers in your room.’

‘Those are decorative, mostly. I collect them. But I always carry at least one spear with me when I go outside, you never know when something might happen.’

Alastair remembered the vetis demon Clive Cartwright had released all these years ago at the academy. How he’d been too scared to tell his “friends” how he felt about the prank, that it was a terrible idea. He’d gone along anyway, thinking that if he was there at least he had some control of the situation. Then Clive had died, and perhaps Alastair could have saved him, had he carried his spears. He’d never left them behind again.

‘Seems a bit unpractical,’ Charles said. ‘How do you even carry a spear?’

‘Not at all. You see, these can be folded, so I can comfortably carry them underneath my suit. And they allow me to fight demons from a bit more distance.’

Alastair hated it when he got covered in blood, ichor, and other bits of demon parts, but fortunately that didn’t happen as often anymore. He still hated the way he looked after a fight though, with his hair all over the place and his clothes messy, but it was better than being covered in blood. He always put great effort into his appearance. With people constantly judging him for how he looked, he couldn’t afford to be seen with even a hair out of place.

‘Would you like to show me a bit? I’ve never trained with spears myself, nor seen anyone else do it. It’s a bit of an unconventional weapon after all.’

Alastair hesitated, and then unfolded one of his spears from underneath his suit. He’d still been carrying it even when there was no need inside. He guessed he’d forgotten to take it off, that’s how comfortable they were underneath his clothes. It was convenient now though, since he didn’t see any spears in the training room. He didn’t feel like changing into gear just for a demonstration, that would come later during training, but he did step into the training room. It was much bigger than what he was used to at home.

Alastair threw the spear, hitting a target about as far away as he could hit from here, hoping it would impress Charles.

‘I usually carry more than one spear, so I can throw them as well without ever being left unarmed.’

‘Clever,’ Charles said. ‘I’ve mostly trained with swords myself. Of course, I do spend most of my time on Shadowhunter politics and there’s much I can teach you about that. And maybe someday you can teach me how to use a spear.’

Alastair suspected Charles wasn’t much of a fighter, but he didn’t mind. At least he didn’t have to worry about someone who spent most of his time writing letters and arguing with older shadowhunters. Charles was very unlikely to get hurt somehow, which allowed Alastair to let down his guard a bit.

During his first few weeks in Paris he continued to spend much time with Charles, the older man showing him around and telling him everything about his work, how to run an institute, and the experience he had helping his mother with her work as Consul.

‘Have you considered a career in politics yourself, Alastair? Maybe head an institute someday, or even become Inquisitor.’

Alastair had not, but he was intrigued. ‘I’d probably not do such a great job. I’m not great at getting people to like me.’

At the academy some people had liked him, of course. His “friends” who’d found his witty insults hilarious. And little Thomas Lightwood, who had followed him around for some reason. Alastair had always found his presence a bit uncomfortable, the way Thomas had seemed to see right through him. Yet at the same time, being adored did feel nice.

Most of the time he tended to antagonize people, keep them at a distance. It was safer that way, people who were scared of him would not hurt him.

Charles put his hand on his shoulder. Alastair knew it was only supposed to be friendly, but it didn’t feel that way. It sent a shiver down his spine and Alastair desperately hoped Charles hadn’t noticed. He didn’t want to know what Charles would think of him if he knew how Alastair really felt about him.

‘You don’t have to worry about getting people to like you,’ Charles said. ‘Not when you can make them owe you.’

Alastair wasn’t quite sure what Charles meant, but it sounded promising. He could make people owe him. And perhaps with Charles’ help, he could make his way up in the Clave, and escape the shame his father had brought to the Carstairs name.

He also knew none of that was likely to happen. He knew that if people discovered what he really was, he’d lose everything. He’d bring more shame to his family than his father did, which Alastair thought was completely unfair.

‘I like that,’ Alastair said. ‘I can work with that.’

‘Sure you can. But if it’s any consolation, I like you.’

At that, Alastair smiled.

The evening before Alastair’s seventeenth birthday, he discovered a note in his room.

Come to my bedroom at midnight. Make sure no one sees you.

C.F.

 Alastair wasn’t sure why Charles would want to see him in his bedroom, but he was also curious. He liked Charles in a way he hadn’t often liked people. Sure, there had been men he found attractive, but he felt like he connected to Charles. The older man seemed to understand him in a way no one else could, and was always willing to give him advice and teach him about shadowhunter politics. He had no idea, however, if Charles was like him. He would think it unlikely. Charles was a respectable man, a powerful man. Charles would be consul one day. But Alastair guessed powerful men had their secrets too, and why else would Charles invite him to his bedroom?

Alastair decided to go. He used his stealth to get through the institute unseen, something he had been good at for some time. When he was young, he’d always made sure no one discovered him before he found his father passed out somewhere. He knew even then what could happen if the wrong people found him alone on the streets at night.

No one was up at this hour, but he made sure to be quiet and not wake anyone. He found his way to Charles’s room, and quietly knocked on the door. For a moment he worried he might have gotten the wrong room and someone would be asking what he was doing here at this hour, but Charles opened the door, and rushed him inside, closing the door behind them.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d come.’

‘You asked me to.’

‘I did. Come, sit.’

Alastair sat down in the armchair. ‘Why did you want to see me at this hour?’

‘You seem like a man of many secrets, Alastair,’ Charles said.

Alastair couldn’t deny that exactly. Between his father and his romantic feelings for Charles, he had plenty of secrets.

‘You might not have realized,’ Charles continued. ‘But I have a secret of my own. Something that I’ve had to hide. I haven’t told a soul.’

Alastair tilted his head. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘I wanted you to know my secret, because I’ve suspected for some time that your secret is similar. And I couldn’t risk anyone else finding out, so now is the best time.’  

‘What sort of secret?’ Alastair asked, trying to sound more innocent than he was.

He suspected what Charles meant, but he wasn’t about to reveal that in case he was wrong.

Charles took in a deep breath, and Alastair could tell he found it difficult to share, even now. ‘I like men,’ he said. ‘I’ve known for several years, but I’ve never been able to tell anyone. But I’ve noticed the way you look at me… The way you respond when I touch you. I thought you should know that… that you aren’t alone.’

Alastair was left speechless for a moment. Even if he’d suspected, hearing Charles say it out loud was different. He’d known he liked men for several years, but he’d never told anyone and had never met another man he knew was like him. And Charles was a man he was definitely attracted to.

‘You’re right,’ Alastair said after an uncomfortable silence. ‘I do like men. And I like you.’

Charles took his hand, brushing over it with his thumb. ‘Can I kiss you?’

‘Please,’ Alastair said, a bit overwhelmed from everything.

Charles leant over and kissed him, gentle at first, then a bit firmer. Alastair had never been kissed before, had never considered it possible, and certainly not with someone like Charles Fairchild. He’d never imagined Charles might be like him, and even then that he would want this with him.

They broke apart. ‘I presume you understand, Alastair, that no one can know,’ Charles said. ‘We would both be ruined, if people found out. But if we’re careful, we can be together.’

Alastair was fine with that. He wasn’t ready for anyone to know about him liking men and wasn’t sure he would ever be ready.

‘I won’t tell,’ Alastair promised. It wasn’t like he had anyone to tell.

Charles didn’t say anything and kissed him again, hungrier this time. Demanding. He dragged him to the bed. Alastair wasn’t sure what was happening, but it felt good. He’d never thought someone could love him, but Charles did. He was a bit scared of rushing it, it was all so new. Charles began to remove his clothes and Alastair allowed it, still not sure what was going to happen. 

When they were finished, Alastair tried to find a comfortable position next to Charles.

‘Happy birthday, Alastair,’ he said, kissing him again. ‘But you do have to leave.’

‘Can’t I… Can’t I sleep here?’

‘I wish you could, but it would be suspicious if people saw you leaving my bedroom. At this hour, no one would see you leave. I’ll see you tomorrow. I have a gift for you.’

Alastair was a bit disappointed he couldn’t stay any longer, but he quickly dressed himself and sneaked back to his own bedroom. He slept well for a change. He could still feel Charles’ lips, his hands exploring him.

The next morning, Charles did indeed have a gift for him. ‘I realized how important your dagger collection was to you,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you have one of these yet. It’s called a poignard, and was popular in France during the renaissance.’

Alastair smiled as he took a look at it. He didn’t have a dagger like this one, that was true. He’d wanted one for a while, but hadn’t gotten around to buying it.

‘Thank you, it’s beautiful. It’s true that these were popular in western Europe for a while, but they were also the primary weapon of the army of the Savafid empire in Persia during the 16th and 17th century.’

‘Oh, I did not know that,’ Charles said.  

He spent much of the next months sneaking his way in and out of Charles’ bedroom at night. Hiding an affair was exciting, of course, and Alastair loved the thrill of it, but it was also difficult. When they saw each other during the day, Alastair had to fight to keep a neutral face, to hide any signs of affection. But at night he could be with Charles, comfortable for a while until he had to leave his room without being seen. With Charles he could let his guard down in a way he’d never done before. And he gave Charles everything he had, everything he could give. The other man could be demanding, and Alastair did not want to disappoint. He wanted to be enough for him, to be able to give him all he needed.

After a few months, Charles mentioned the topic of marriage when they were alone at night.

‘When I return to London, it is very likely I will enter an engagement with miss Ariadne Bridgestock. She’s the daughter of the Inquisitor, and such an alliance could prove quite useful.’

Alastair felt his heart sank. ‘But I thought…’ He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. I thought you loved me, he wanted to say.

‘It will likely be a temporary engagement,’ Charles said, taking his hand. ‘I do not care for her as I do for you, you know that. But to be allied to the Bridgestock family will certainly help me be elected Consul when my mother’s term ends and maybe then we could truly be together.’

Alastair’s eyes went wide. ‘Do you really think that’s possible?’

‘Perhaps. But I would not mind if you chose to marry. I would still want to be with you.’

Alastair determinedly shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I know I could never love a woman like I love you, and I’d never want to deceive someone of my love.’

‘Not all women mind,’ Charles said. ‘But I understand.’

Alastair was not so sure he did. But he didn’t like fighting with Charles and his lover had the gift to make him forget about whatever he was angry about as soon as they were in his bed together.

There were times when he did worry about the state of their relationship. When Charles decided he couldn’t accompany him when he wanted to see the city, claiming they couldn’t be seen together. Working together wasn’t an issue, nor was Charles teaching him about politics, but they certainly couldn’t go see the city together. And especially when Charles again brought up the topic of marriage, this time suggesting it would be good for both of them if Alastair got engaged.

‘I’m not going to change my mind on this, Charles,’ he said. ‘I do not want to be married to someone I do not love.’

‘And what will you do when your parents ask why you refuse to get married?’

‘I’ll figure something out. Besides, since we move around so much we barely meet other shadowhunters. It’ll be easy enough to convince them I simply haven’t met anyone I like.’

Alastair dreaded going back to his parents, away from Charles and from Paris and from everything that made him feel safe. But he also missed his mother and sister and regretted not being there to protect them. He wanted to mend the bond with Cordelia, but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t tell her the truth about their father, and he certainly couldn’t tell her about Charles.

Charles paused. ‘You are very young. You still have plenty of time to find someone. But at some point you will be expected to marry. It could become very difficult to get ahead if you refuse. And what would your parents think, when you show no interest in women or marriage whatsoever?’

‘I guess so. But plenty of people marry for reasons other than love. My parents did, although they did fall in love over time. You’ll understand when you’re older.’

Alastair felt uncomfortable when Charles said that. His lover considered him a child still. Hadn’t he complimented him on how mature he was? Yet Charles often did not take him seriously, as if he was too young to understand. He often commented that he would understand things better when he was older. He was old enough to sleep with Charles though. He couldn’t make sense of it. So he did the best he could to please Charles, to show him he was mature and that he did understand. But when they differed of opinion, Charles always dismissed his ideas. That was fine though, he would be an adult soon enough and then Charles would have to take him seriously.

Except when Alastair arrived in London, nothing much seemed to change. Alastair attended every enclave meeting, now old enough to speak there himself, and did the best he could to have valuable input in these meetings, but Charles rarely listened. He preferred the sound of his own voice, even in the emergency they were in, which Charles wasn’t handling well at all. Just let me help you, he wanted to say. Just admit you cannot do this and you need me.

Not to mention here he was confronted with the presence of miss Ariadne Bridgestock, Charles’ fiancée. Alastair didn’t resent miss Bridgestock, he didn’t know her very well but he understood that as an adopted Indian woman, she was in no position to refuse to marry Charles. But he wanted Charles all to himself, to be the first thing on his mind, he didn’t want him to get married. He guessed that was not possible for someone like him. They’d always have to keep up appearances. He’d always have to be a secret.

Charles wasn’t there when Alastair needed him either. He was busy with his work, or with his fiancée who was ill and unlikely to wake up anytime soon, when Alastair just needed someone to talk to, someone to hold him. He had no one but Charles, no one he could confide in. He loved his sister, but he needed to protect her, not burden her with his struggles. Nor did he think she’d understand how he felt about Charles and he did not think he could take that rejection. He knew Layla was frustrated by his distance, but what else was he supposed to do?

So instead he was alone in his bedroom, after Charles had told him he didn’t have time to talk, to be more careful and not speak to him like that in public. Charles had promised he would come see him late in the evening, and he would just have to hold on until then. He knew Cordelia was spending more and more time with James Herondale and although he didn’t hate them as much as he pretended he did, he didn’t trust them either. They were so reckless, running towards danger and dragging Cordelia with them. Just like Charles, Herondale and his friends had no idea what they were up against and vastly overestimated their abilities to solve the situation, and one of these days Cordelia would get hurt because of it. And what would happen when his father was convicted? When Cordelia would inevitably find out the truth? Alastair didn’t want her to know, but at the same time he could barely stomach how she tried to rescue him as if he was some sort of hero.

Alastair cried for most of the day. His mother and Risa had gotten used to him locking himself in his bedroom by now and had left him, Risa only knocking once to announce she’d made tea. He hated crying, he hated being vulnerable like this and having to hide, but sometimes he couldn’t do it anymore. The anger had faded away and all that was left was emptiness. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was crying over, the way Cordelia kept putting herself in danger, the state of his relationship, his father. Plenty of options. It happened more and more frequently that he collapsed when he was sure no one would see, and Charles was never there to help him through it. He guessed he was expecting too much. But if Charles asked for him, told him he needed him, he would be there, always, no matter how inconvenient. Because he loved Charles.  

He’d calmed a bit when it was time for dinner, and when everyone else had gone to bed, Charles did come for him. Alastair didn’t feel like arguing again, and instead accepted that even if it was a bit late, at least Charles was here now. He drew a soundless rune on the door, just in case someone would wake up and hear them.

‘Have you been crying?’ Charles asked.

To anyone else, he would have denied it. But Charles he trusted, even if his lover was not careful with his feelings at all. ‘A little,’ he said.

‘It is unbecoming for a man to cry,’ Charles said. ‘You’ll learn, in time, to deal with your emotions better.’

‘Perhaps I would have if you had actually made time for me when I needed you,’ Alastair bit back.

‘You know I was busy,’ Charles said. ‘Really, Alastair, I thought you were past this.’

He didn’t dare say anything else on the topic. He wasn’t sure he could take Charles’ dismissal. Charles was right, of course, he was too old to cry, had been for a long time, but what else was he supposed to do? The longer he held it in, the worse it got, and as long as no one actually saw him when he cried, it was alright.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you came.’

‘I am too. I missed you.’

Alastair wished Charles would stay with him, but as always he left when they were finished. It made sense, of course, Charles wouldn’t be able to explain sleeping over at the Carstairs house without anyone suspecting. Still, he wished he wasn’t alone. So he cried again, even if Charles had said it was unbecoming. No one would hear him. No one would know just how broken he was. He’d considered leaving Charles, but who was he kidding, Charles was all he had. He didn’t know how he’d survive without him.

When Cordelia came to talk to him about Charles, Alastair panicked. He was relieved to hear she still accepted him, but how could she have eavesdropped on his private conversations? That hurt the most, knowing that even if she claimed to love him, she didn’t trust him. He knew she hadn’t meant to find out he liked men this way, but she’d followed him because she’d expected him to reveal secrets he’d promised to keep. He remembered how she’d called Charles cruel. How he’d defended Charles’ actions to her, claiming he wasn’t cruel, how everything he did was so they could be together.

Charles said that all the time, but Alastair wasn’t sure he believed it anymore. It seemed more like everything Charles did was to further his career, and sometimes Alastair felt like an afterthought. Or perhaps someone Charles could satisfy his physical needs with, only tolerating that Alastair loved him with everything he had. They usually met to have sex, after all, but there could be much more to being with someone. Like how he’d taken Thomas to a museum, had walked along the Seine with him… Charles didn’t want any of that. The longer he thought about it, the more sick he felt. He still went to see Charles, even if he was disgusted by what he’d done to miss Bridgestock, how he’d abandoned her when she was in coma and replaced her with miss Grace Blackthorn. Even if he wasn’t sure he still liked it when Charles touched him.

Perhaps Cordelia was right, perhaps he should leave him. Charles wasn’t going to be what Alastair needed. And then there was Thomas Lightwood… Thomas, who’d grown up to be tall and strong, but also brave and kind and heroic. Someone Alastair didn’t deserve for sure. But perhaps he could have another chance. Perhaps he could leave Charles.

He looked at his dagger collection, one of the few things that brought him comfort anymore. It felt like there was one stuck inside of him, had been for years. Removing it would hurt, but it was the only way to survive. Having made up his mind, Alastair began to write a letter. He remembered how Alastair had refused Thomas entry into his house, refused to let him make the antidote. How Thomas had insisted that he did know what he was doing. Thomas was a hero. Charles had almost ruined the antidote, and Alastair wasn’t even sure he would have minded. If miss Bridgestock had died, no one would be able to contradict his story of breaking off the engagement before she’d fallen ill.

He knew it wasn’t the best way to break it off, that he should face Charles, but he wasn’t sure he could. He knew how well Charles manipulated him, making him forget his worries with soothing words and kisses. He couldn’t face him, but hopefully if Charles read his letter, he’d know to leave him alone. He was done with this half love, and even if he would end up alone it would be better than whatever he was to Charles. He deserved better.

[adventuresoutsidethegenderbinary]

Hello, River. This ask is pretty long, and I am sorry for that. I have a lot to get off my chest, and I was hoping you could help.

I saw your post about your situation with your mother. I can't imagine how hard that must be for you. I just want you to know that you are not alone.

I have only formally come out as pansexual to my sister (affirming), my sax instructor (affirming) my therapists (affirming), my mom (accepting), and my oldest brother (accepting). About a month ago, I went to a meeting for an LGBTQ+ support group with my university (I currently live with my parents and drive to my classes). It was called "Spectrum," so I lied and said it was an autism group. However, my dad (a recently appointed Mormon bishop) took it upon himself to look it up, so when I got back, he immediately confronted me. He was relatively calm, since he had a bit of time to cool down, but it was still very stressful. I covered for my self in a variety of ways, including describing myself as "having attraction towards people regardless of whether they are male or female." I felt the need to phrase who I AM as something I DO. My mom talked with me about the situation the next day and said, among other things, that he had wanted to tell me there was an emergency at home so he could confront me as soon as possible. She apparently name-dropped "pansexual" during a later conversation with him, but in spite of that he hasn't brought it up since.

I doubt that is for lack of trying, though. He also wanted to talk to me about my political views, since I had been posting a lot of political material to my Facebook page. He is convinced that we have a lot in common. I am not. As you have likely gathered, he is hardcore conservative. He's not openly bigoted against most people, and not quite QAnon territory, but he's out there. I have taken a sharp U-turn to the left. (Exhibit A, my blog.)

The moment I got out of that conversation, I started packing in case I needed to leave. I started formulating ideas. I signed up for campus housing. I made plans with my sister to stay at her house (about 2.5 hours away) if need be. I managed to convince my dad with surprising ease to let me stay with her for about a week (my mom was instantly on board). She is not LGBTQ+ herself (not to my knowledge, at least) but, as previously mentioned, she was very affirming (she was actually the first person I came out to). She has strained relations with my parents (read: my dad) because she left the Church a long time ago, partially due to her sexual activity, and they (he) are convinced that they need to somehow bring her back into the Church (not a chance in hell of that happening). I have been staying with her and her fiancee for the past week.

I do not relish returning (which I will likely do tomorrow evening or Friday morning). I do not want my dad to start probing me. I have already stalled - the original plan was for me to go back yesterday - and I don't think I can stall any more.

Do you have any suggestions or advice on how to proceed? He doesn't even know that Tumblr exists, much less that I have a blog here, but I hate that I am keeping everything secret from him - that I have to. Obviously, it's his fault. I'm up front about it with my sister and with my therapists, and even with my mom. But I have no reason to believe that he will take any accountability for himself. He is convinced that he is doing the right thing, that my sister was a failure (on both his end in "not instilling the gospel in her deeply enough" and hers), that the Church (which I plan on leaving soon myself) is the only way anyone can be truly happy.

How do I avoid confrontation? How do I keep things under wraps? And is there any way I might be able to convince him that maybe, just maybe, he might be in the wrong?

On top of that, I can't help but feel like I'm exaggerating some things, that I am making myself a bigger victim than I really am. I feel this when I am talking with my therapists and I feel it venting to you now. Obviously you don't know my full situation, but do you think I might be overblowing things?

Thank you, and again, I'm sorry for sending such a long ask. Keep doing what you're doing. Your work and advocacy is an immense blessing to us all.

~Red (he/him)

Hi Red,

Thanks for sharing! Never worry about sending in a long ask, I love answering. I obviously can’t provide you with super concrete solutions since I’m not in your shoes, but I do know that you’re not over-exaggerating because for the longest time I thought that I was too. When you’re constantly subject to harassment and judgement, and constantly told that everything is your fault, you start to feel like you’re making things seem bigger than you are. Trust me, you are not. 

My advice would honestly be to just lie low for now. I know that it’s hard to hide who you are - believe me - but sometimes it’s a lot easier than confrontation, especially if your father is paying for your college. I’m glad that you signed up for campus housing - you could be out as who you are at school and then only have to pretend around your parents. 

I do genuinely believe that people who are homophobic can change, but it takes a lot of time, energy, and effort, and ultimately, it’s up to the person themselves, not you. Until you are no longer dependent on him, I would stray away from bringing up LGBTQ+ stuff. He could eventually come around, but I wouldn’t take that chance while you’re still a dependent.

I’m sorry that you’re in this situation - please stay strong and remember how valid you are.

Love always,

River

[zikadraws]

If the ghosts bosses got to be reincarnated, what do you think they’d look like in the modern age(I’m talking, like the twisted sisters, Clem(best rat boi), Fishhook, etc)?

Oh boy tough call !✨Sooo let's seeeee...

(*Low quality colouring, drawing and long post ahead (sorry), Click4Quality*)

So let's start with Chambrea and Steward. They gladly took back their human form (Yeah I see Chambrea as Latino/Arabic styled, and Steward as Australian), but less gladly the fact of having to work to not get hungry. They restarted to work in services, although their experience (as for a good part of the ghosts) got them militant, and they are fighting for the service workers to get treated/respected better and better paid (between others). Chambrea (Chãlissia) is the leading type, Steward (Stuart) follows and admires her, and struggles to push their relationship to another level. They already live together.

Then there's Chef Jacques Soulfflé. He of course oriented himself towards cooking, but understandably enough for those who witnessed his cooking, got fired several times, and refused to understand why ; so much that he actually attempted ''Hell's Kitchen'' to prove everyone wrong- and nearly caused Gordon Ramsay, who -figures- spectacularly blazed his @ss, to rage quit the emission. They actually had a private talk afterwards and Gordon decided to save cooking's honour and to give him private lessons. Never did he see a guy so bad at cooking but who genuinely absolutely loved cooking against all. Deserves an effort. Thanks to that Soulfflé got better and found a regular cook post. Yeah I got carried a bit far on this IK. X) Anyway so next-

Morty finally managed to open the cinema class he was planning to open before his death, and he's having the time of his life with this. He takes cheap and everyone in -elementals to elderly- and he is in a 'poor-populated' city part, so he has a lot of volunteers ; as an activity as for an actual class. He loves to communicate his passion with others, is a wonderful teacher open to everyone and loves creating shorts and movies with his students. Some of them actually succeeded as actors or staff or even directors, and often credit him. Although a bit wore out, he is really happy. Plus a good portion of the former boss ghosts like to help him with and star in his productions.

Krüller thought of becoming policeman, but chickened out and went on as a mall guard. He is great with children. He even babysits sometimes. And often stars in Morty's movies, as 'the police chief'. He's satisfied by this repetitive but calm life.

Johnny Deepend invested into an old gym and became sport coach. Between taxes and incomes, it isn't always easy but his easygoing, supportive and friendly natural attitude gets him a nice bunch of people following him and going to his gym. But on the side, he is also very engaged to ban competitions based on showing off the body, knowing way too well how destructive it is for the people, and actually even run conferences about that. He is determined.

Serpci has became a famous social media influencer and practically lives out of it (plus some beauty and fashion sideworks. She customize clothes.). Her Egyptian style, her beauty and aura and her pets snakes got her REALLY popular on any network- and leaves her targeted by many creeps of course, but her merciless way of dealing with them chicken them out (and actually is a way of outcome for her. Blackmail is powerful, but shhh.) She's militant for feminism, and against racism, cultural appropriation and above all, grave robbers (especially targeting archeologists). Remains of her pharaoh shenanigans, y'know.

Dr. Potter searched around and was taken under the wing of an association that fights to save true seeds (seeds that naturally grows back after harvesting and not having to be replaced each time like big corporations like to sell [as] 'necessary'.) He is trusted to keep and grow in number these true seeds, and in return he is taken care of, feed, and has his own house, garden and glasshouse. He is very happy.

The Triplets had to actually go to school for the first time in their lives, and if they managed to get to be adopted together (by one of the bosses, idk for this one), they had a very cynical bad surprise. They still perform during events, to show-off or at parties.

THAT is my human interpretation of Fishook. He lacks an arm and look as what white police arbitrarily view as the embodiment of ''''potential criminal''''; and now that he's human again, he's fucking pissed. As in -he freaking means business. By that I mean, he is entirely, body and soul, engaged to the whole 'Save Marine Life' cause. He raids awareness and direct missions, participates to everything and acts everywhere. Yeah, he works for the WWF. (He is also getting a bit of trouble about his cranky comportment.)

(Yeah, ship time. Why ? Because I can.)

Amadeus Wolfgeist and Clem turned into a couple representation of Tortured Artists ™. (I'll explain for Clem at some point in the future so it'd make sense, pinky swear.)

Amadeus Wolfgeist got his hair back (and I wasn't too sure of what colour to give it but heck it I'm satisfied), but was really pissed to learn that it's hard to make a carrier out of classical music nowadays. He yet decided to keep on it, determined as frick that he was to bring back the golden age, and became an independent compositor, freeing the stress generated from this work by private contract concerts. Despite his talent, he's struggling due to his dissuading stubbornness and is upset to not being able to afford his preferred nobile lifestyle. Clem has spawned up with an hyperactive syndrome, plus of his autistic condition, and is making the most money by having several jobs at the time. As a handyman/plumber, but also as a painter and visual artist, as he finally noticed how much interest and talent he had for that. He draws eyefooling artworks as a living, to situate. He kept his pet opossum and his emotional support duckies. Strangely enough, he hardly sleeps on his own impulse anymore.

They live together (for 'financial reasons' dixit Wolfgeist, y'knooow...) and complete and equilibrate each other. Clem is the one who -ironically- makes the most money, and deals with Amadeus's stress and irritation levels. Amadeus is Clem's impulse control, health, fashion, self-care and sleep schedule advisor.

Sometimes Clem seconds Amadeus on his banjo.

AND THEN, TO FINISH (because I literally, between other things, have no space left) we have Macfrights who tried to get hired at 'Puy du Fou' but got humiliated and turned off, and Phantasmagloria who tried to get hired as a DJ but nuts for several reasons. They both swallowed back their pride and ended up working at fast-foods. They both try as often as possible to play in Morty's movies. Macfrights likes to play the villain.

---

OKAY ! And that was about it for my headcanons about this ask. Very long post, I know but hey ! Dare I believe that it was worth it...?

Alright, thank you for your ask. That was a big one and I hope you are, too, satisfied and wish you a nice day :) .

Aaand thank you to everyone else for your attention 🎵 ! 🤗 Have a nice day~♥️

[starrysupercell]

Second paternal-centric piece, centered on the highly dramatic Graveyard Fam! The patchwork family <3

Do I put way too many serious thoughts in things? Maybe. But I am a storyteller.

Heavily headcanon based that I've mentioned before.

Warnings: mentions of formerly living in a toxic and neglectful environment, and a current abrasive and struggling relationship between Mortis and Frank.

Ask to tag.

~

🧟‍♀️📱 Picture Perfect 🦇🎧

Emz awoke naturally, opening her eyes, and blinking away the sleep. She stared up at her ceiling blankly. What a good day's sleep!

She pulled her arm from the tightly wrapped blanket around her and slipped it under her pillow to grab her phone.

She held it above her face to replace the ceiling as the point of interest in her line of sight. It was around 1:30 pm. What have people talked about ever since she went to sleep earlier that morning?

She began to scroll through posts, ready to begin her morning regime of giving only a few hearts to a handful of posts, and maybe even one or two coveted comments from her. (It was best to leave them wanting more!)

However, she froze in her browsing when she quickly noticed a trend in today's posts. A long winded paragraph by some random of how lucky they were, a meme about single mothers, grilling pictures.

Oh, today was no day to lay in bed for half an hour before beginning her day! It was Father's Day. Emz twisted around, trying to roll out of her bedsheets.

"Ogh, stupid covers--!" She grumbled despite the fact that she loved twisting herself up in them. It helped her sleep at night.

The zombie rolled too far one way and gave a cut off yelp as she fell clean off the bed and landed on the ground painfully on her stomach. How embarrassing, she huffed, peeved. She slapped the ground in frustration and pushed herself up with the same palm. She sat on her knees and leaned on her bed, fixing her hair with her other hand. Okay, fail, but at least nobody saw that.

Absent-mindedly, the teen brought her phone up again and unlocked it fluidly. She scrolled through a few posts and ended up giving the first like of the day.

"Wait, no," She said, looking up. She had a plan for today and everything! Emz stood up and slipped her phone into her back pocket. First up, the gifts!

She bounded over to her closet and opened it. There they were. Two gift baskets for today. One for her Uncle, and one for Frank. Emz smiled. They were handmade of course, because premade goodie bags were absolutely lame!

As if she would settle for giving anything less than perfection. No, she hand picked what would go into each basket, decorated and placed it to be aesthetically pleasing, and wrapped it up with a gorgeous ribbon. She's even refrained about bragging about any of this online, to keep it absolutely secret. Man, was she just amazing or what? That was rhetorical, of course. She knew she was flawless already.

Like an instinct to survive, Emz had her phone out of her pocket and in front of her once more, camera open. She winked and stuck her tongue out with a smile, and took a picture. She grimaced.

Ugh, she had to go through her morning routine first and then take another picture afterwards. This was a terrible excuse for a selfie. With that thought in mind, Emz stretched properly, and strolled to her bathroom.

~

"Talk to me, Franklin. You know it's a mutual effort." Mortis said, poking Frank's cheek. He was leaning over the back of the couch where Frank was sitting at. The big guy tilted his head away with a grunt. His eyes were trained on the television as he tried his best to tune out the vampires.

"...Is this still about the dishes?" Mortis decided to guess since he refused to answer. "I'll have you know that I got started on them the other day. But then I got a call that simply couldn't go unanswered." Mortis paused and studied the lack of change in grump level in Frank. Okay. Maybe not that. "...If this is about my bats, I am not making them sleep outside. They like it in here. Only Robata likes it outside." Still no answer. Mortis tapped on his chin. What else could possibly be on his spouse's mind? It was already hard to believe that Franklin was mad at him, but he was just not budging in giving any hints. (Yet again!)

"Ugh," Frank grunted. "It's not just about the dishes or the bats." He started to explain quietly. Mortis leaned in attentively with a small smile on his face. Oh, it was such a rare treat now when Franklin opened up to him. Even if this was about an argument, Mortis adored the fact.

"It's about the fact that you still make excuses for your laziness." He finished.

Mortis frowned. Except for when he spouted spiteful lies and insults! "They aren't excuses! I'm telling you what happened. You know, you're not the only who lives here, Franklin. There's a thing called--"

"Good afternoon~!" Emz called out, stepping down the staircase with flourish.

Mortis ruffled Frank's hair and lowered his voice. "Hold that thought." With a pirouette, he shot a cheerful grin at Emz. "Poisoned Apple! Good afternoon!" The gravedigger greeted. Frank was annoyed, but he held up a hand to wave at Emz pleasantly. With his other hand, he turned the volume down on the show he was watching.

"Hi!" Emz said, stopping right before she reached the bottom. She was using the railing to hide the baskets. "You guys know what today is, right?"

"....Sunday?" Mortis questioned happily.

"I guess so, yeah," Emz said, "But beyond that."

Frank blinked and shook his head lightly.

"It's..." Emz paused for dramatic effect, and then lifted the baskets into view. "Father's Day! Look what I made!"

"Ooh," Mortis smiled, fangs glinting. He held his arms out as Emz walked forward to hand him his basket.

"This is for you and--" she moved on to Frank. "--this is for you!"

Mortis marveled at the items he could see, and turned it to see it from a different angle. The plastic wrap crinkled as he did this.

Frank smiled at her as she passed it over to him. With just a glance, he could already see some of his favorite things in there, he placed it aside and stood, prompting her for a hug as he walked around the sofa.

Emz was wrapped and lifted up in his large stature, pleasantly smiling. "I'm glad you both liked it." She laughed, muffled.

"Naturally," Mortis remarked, "Your craftsmanship is to die for!"

Emz was finally let go by Frank, landing on the floor. "Oh, tell me about it," she smirked. "I stayed up a couple of days ago finishing those up and they turned out perfectly!" She flipped her hair with an obvious flourish. "You can go on gushing," she said, only half jokingly as she brought out her phone to idly glance through any messages.

Mortis laughed in amusement. Frank smiled patiently. Emz was sharp around the edges, but she was endearingly so. As long as she didn't go too far...

"Oh, yeah!" She put her phone away. "You should both, like get dressed up. There's an event on the beach later on tonight, and I was thinking we could go out today. Like... my treat."

"You?" Mortis voiced for both he and Frank. "You have money?"

"Yeah? I save up. Don't you?" She asked haughtily. "Or do you just not want to go?"

Frank gave short laugh, and patted his stomach in jest. Mortis shrugged in amusement, catching on to Frank's joke. "Well, if you think you have enough for Frank, we'll be your guests, sweetheart."

~

"Oooh, futuristic," Mortis marveled, taking off the wide-brimmed hat he wore as the Trio walked inside. They were at the Zero-Gravity diner. It was a part of Starr Force's attractions.

A bored-looking feline straightened up in attention as the doors slid open. "Welcome, Civilians!" She greeted from her silvery podium. "Feeling low on energy? If you want to help out Colonel Ruffs in his quest against the Dark Lord, you should fill up while you've got the chance." She recited in character, "Luckily, you're safe here, and we've got plenty of foodstuffs that'll fill you up! So, how can I help you today?"

Emz scoffed. Did Kit not recognize them or something? "You could have skipped the spiel. Like, you know that we're Brawlers, right?"

The cat blinked slowly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Okay. What do you want then?"

"I've got a reservation for three, under Emz."

Kit shifted her focus to the high-tech screen right beside her. It was see through. From the perspective of the Graveyard Trio, the images, texts and buttons were flipped.

Kit pressed through a few buttons, navigating through menus, and then confirmed Emz's arrival. "Alright. If you'll follow me." She picked up three devices from her podium, and began to lead the way through the restaurant. Her tail swished as she walked along.

When they got to the table, Kit waited until they were seated and placed the devices in front of the three. "Press the blue button to activate your menus." She said.

Mortis pressed it, and a holographic screen flashed into view, akin to Kit's own screen at her podium. He laughed. "This is spectacular! We should add a horror-themed restaurant to our section. It would be a hit!" Mortis exclaimed. "What say you two?"

"Ooh, that'd be sooo cute! I can run it." Emz said.

Frank grunted, and pressed the menu button. It didn't spring to life like Mortis' did, so he pressed it again, and then once more even rougher. It broke under his strength.

"Oh," Kit reached over. "Sorry about that. You can hand me the pieces, and I'll get you a replacement menu. I'll be right back." Frank did so, a bit embarrassed.

As soon as Kit was out of earshot, Emz laughed. "Our place won't have cheap stuff like here though."

Mortis grinned. Frank was less than amused and gave a shrug. It was simply an accident, and they shouldn't be rude about it.

Kit returned and activated the device before handing it to Frank. "Here you go. While you look through that, what can I get for you to drink?" She asked, readying a tablet.

"I'll have a peach iced tea." Emz told Kit.

"I'll have a glass of Merlot." The mortician decided.

Great. Now he'd have to drive. Frank rolled his eyes, and looked through the sodas.

Mortis looked over at him. "What would you like, Franklin?"

After eyeing the selections, he pointed out his choice. Mortis made a face and looked at Kit. "He'll just have a Coke."

"Okay. I'll get that to you. A waiter will be right out to get the rest of your order." Kit said. She departed from the table.

Emz hummed and stood up. "I'll be right back. Remember- order whatever you want! I'm paying." She reminded, smoothing out the cute dress she wore and then walking off towards the restroom.

Mortis watched her go, and then moved aside the menu device.

"Okay, Franklin. Let's talk." he interlocked his fingers like this was a business deal.

Frank ignored him, swiping through the menu.

"This is a fancier restaraunt. Emz is treating us, and you can tell how important this is to her, can't you? I hope you do."

Mortis paused for any telling gesture or expression, but Franklin remained quiet. The mortician continued. "Well, it'd be great if you'd drop the pettiness, if only for tonight. This is between us, not Emz."

Frank glowered at Mortis. Pettiness? Him? The big guy shoved aside the device now. He was tired of Mortis' tone and habits and everything.

"Don't even think of causing a scene here, Franklin," Mortis tensed up. "Think about Emz!" Frank frowned.

"Here are your drinks, Sirs." the black cat returned. She either didn't notice or chose to ignore the quiet tension at the table as she put the drinks down and then left.

Frank grumpily put his face in his hand. "Fine. But you're being a dick." Frank said.

Mortis was offended. "How!?" He asked indignantly.

"Drinking without even asking me, nitpicking what I want, and those are on top of the bats and dishes. And I bet you're ready with some excuse now too." Frank listed.

Mortis clamped his mouth shut. He was going to point out that it was only one, and that plain old coke at a more fancy place, really? But, that would just prove Franklin right. "Well," he struggled on what to say for only a second before finding a string. "You always keep things to yourself! How am I supposed to guess what you're thinking? You wait and get mad and then out of the blue, you just attack me!"

Frank furrowed his brows and looked aside, feeling a bit guilty.

"Hey!" Emz arrived and sat down, and scooched up in her chair. "You guys are being an itty bitty loud, you know? I'm sure you don't want people staring."

"Uhh..." Mortis said. "I suppose not. So... Franklin." He said awkwardly, trying to think of some different topic. "I think... our Brawl Ball strategy should change." He sighed, disappointed in himself. How weak of a subject.

Emz was puzzled and looked like she wanted to say something. So, of course, she did voice her thoughts. "Weren't you guys talking about, like being mad or whatever?"

"No....?" Mortis said. "Nobody's mad here. Am I right, Franklin?"

"Uh. Yeah." The big guy shrugged.

Emz pursed her lips. "Right... So this afternoon too?"

Mortis gave a tight smile. "This afternoon?" He pretended.

Emz was merciless in completely demolishing this lie. "This morning, when I walked downstairs, Frank was on the couch with the T.V. on. It wasn't muted, even though you were beside him presumably chatting. That's some weirdo way to talk if you weren't mad at someone." She said, matter-of-factly. "You think I don't know body language?"

"...." Mortis was stunned. Frank laughed at the absurdity. She had guessed it perfectly!

Emz crossed her arms though. She waited for Frank's chuckle to die down. "So, what gives? You two are going to start lying to me all of a sudden?" She looked between the two, waiting impatiently for an answer.

".....No." Mortis said finally.

"Then?"

The vampire faltered. "It's just that... well, you know. The discussions Frank and I gave, ah, doesn't have to do with you? So... why involve you?" Mortis managed.

"Okay? But, like, why lie about it." She repeated. She had an inkling about it now, given both of their awkward glances and fidgets. Her sharp tone softened, and she sighed inaudibly. Guess it was sappy truth time.

She looked down at the table, focused on the closed menu device. "I know you two argue. Like. Duh. That's normal. And, I'm guessing that you want to pretend like everything's peachy because you don't want to remind me of... well, you know who already!" She shook her head. "But I'm okay, really. I actually wake up on my own and not from endless yelling, and I'm not picked up hours late from wherever because you never agreed on whose turn it is to pick me up.." Emz paused, feeling quite at unease from sharing this, but pushed through. This was just another step at breaking her own tough shell. "What I'm trying to say is, simply arguing isn't going to remind me of my 'parents.' You two are leagues better, okay? I know you actually care about me. So you dont have to lie to me. Bicker and argue all day until your jaws fall off. You wouldn't be my Uncle Mortis and Frank without it." She smiled up at them.

Mortis had his upper face covered, just about already to cry. "Emz... I don't know what to even say..."

Frank leaned to her and gave her a kiss on her head. "It means a lot, sweetheart..." he said genuinely. Maybe he still had things to learn... He glanced over at Mortis who happened to look up then from his heartfelt pause. "I think I speak for the both of us."

They exchanged a soft smile.

"How about a picture?" Emz asked as she held her phone up.

"That sounds grand," Mortis sighed contentedly. Frank nodded with a smile.

The graveyard family bunched in together to fit into Emz's screen that she held up for all of them. On their way to posing for the perfect picture, their glasses were knocked down. The mixture of the three drinks short-circuited the menus, stained the white tablecloth and started to drip on the floor. Kit was walking by at that moment to check on another table when she saw the damage. That troublemaking team. Her tail swished around dangerously. She pulled a communicator out of her pocket and held it up to talk into it. She never took her eyes off of the Graveyard Trio. "Colonel Ruffs. This is MerXanary Special Agent Kit. Over."

"Roger!" He answered. There were squeaks in the background. No doubt the new Private was fooling around.

"There's Brawlers here giving me trouble. I'm requesting backup at the Zero-Gravity Diner. I'm going in now. Over."

"Willco." Colonel Ruffs confirmed. Kit pocketed her radio transmitter, and readied to Brawl.

Emz's camera flashed, capturing the moment.

[supportivespaceforsurvivors]

is this Devyn's blog?

hey anon, i'm sorry it took me so long to respond to this; between insomnia, work, my birthday, and other personal issues (along with accidentally deleting my initial response in a sleep-deprived lapse of judgement..), i've been pretty low on energy - but hopefully i'll be feeling better soon?

as for your question, it isn't a complete yes or no answer. yes, Devyn is a mod on this blog, and yes, he posts a lot; but nobody 'owns' this blog. all mods are equals; both in the literal sense that we all have to have administrator privileges in order to answer asks, and also that we rely on each other to help with anything we post. we're all human, and as such, we know that we have weaknesses and blindspots; as a team, we talk to each other to help smooth over some of those wrinkles to help y'all the best ways that we can - so even when one specific person's name is put on a post, more often than not, we have all contributed in some way. the reason that Devyn answers things more often than the rest of us is because he simply has a lot more time and energy than the rest of us do, and trying to write a whole response ourselves can be exhausting when you are already low on energy; but conveying our thoughts or opinions to each other for someone else to weave into a post takes a lot less energy. as such, the rest of us on the mod team really appreciate that Devyn is able to answer more often! its not that Devyn is more committed or holds more power than the rest of the mods, just that he's been more available to answer things recently.

and as a side note: we got another ask somewhat along this line of thought, but it mentioned the name of someone who made personal posts on their personal blog - and since i don't want to risk 'calling them out' (for lack of a better term), i don't feel comfortable posting that ask, so i'm adding my response to it here.

i want to start off by saying, we do appreciate when people bring up concerns that they have! giving us feedback on things that might make you uncomfortable or bother you helps us learn how to better help y'all. without feedback, we kinda just assume that we're doing alright - so encourage anyone to give us constructive feedback (i.e., dont just say something like "i dont like [thing] about mod x, fix it" - give us suggestions on how to best fix it!) if something we do bothers you! we wont be upset; you mentioning how we can better help you means that you do care about us, and we would never get upset at y'all for that. and, as such, we do really appreciate that you brought up your issues with us! genuinely our only issue was the fact a specific person was named (which really isnt even an issue - telling us who made the posts helped us find the posts, since we hadnt previously known about them) and we just don't want to inadvertently cause problems for them. we really dont think you had meant to purposefully cause strife, so please dont think we're upset with you!

as for your ask, i get why you would feel that way. Devyn tends to answer a lot and doesn't cushion his answers as much as some of us do, but it isn't due to him not caring or simply wanting the inbox empty - Devyn does care a lot about answering things well, he just prefers to get to the point rather than writing out giant walls of text. rather than try to explain things for Devyn, i'm gonna let him finish up the post by explaining his method for answering asks - i dont want to accidentally say anything that isnt true, but i can guarentee that Devyn does care. if he didn't care, he wouldn't still be here - he does care for all of you, and he does want to help! if he didn't, he wouldn't be putting in the effort that he has been to change how he responds to things in a way that won't upset or trigger people, and he wouldn't put in the effort to try and get input from the rest of us mods. please, do let us know if there's anything else we can do moving forward to help things feel less bad for you. we don't want anyone to feel like they cant be helped or that we dont care for them.

mod berry 💗

---

Hey anon.

I wanted to make sure I also answered this in case you were looking for an answer from me directly.

Originally I had a few paragraphs here essentially echoing what Berry said, but it felt too repetitive and I ended up cutting it out.

We had another ask that we mentioned we're tacking the response to on here. I'm going to copy-paste some of the text from it for context since y'all obviously haven't (and won't) see it, so that my response makes sense:

[...] we wrote in and got a quick response from Devyn whereas previously we got really detailed responses from other mods. It felt like Devyn just sees it as a rush to clear the inbox and not work with other mods. And now this blog feels like his exclusively.

I want to start by saying I understand how how I was pretty much the only one who answered anything during September made you feel like this blog is mine exclusively, but I assure you that's not the case - it just happened to be a particularly shitty month for all the mods here. While those issues haven't disappeared, we should have more availability to answer asks currently.

Secondly, something I think will be helpful is if I walk you through the process of how I answer an ask. I was going to use this one to do that and then proceeded to get distracted and forgot and answered it, so here's a fake example ask. Let's say this ask comes in:

Let's say the question is something any of us can answer easily, like, "How many followers do you have?" That's an easy question and we can all look at our follower count and give you a number. So I click answer.

I always start answering genuine asks with some sort of greeting. Usually "Hey anon," is my go-to. Then the answer. "Oh, we have this many." Then I'll end with a well-wish and my name. Easy enough.

I think part of the issue is that if people ask yes or no questions (like "is my trauma valid?") I'd rather say something short in response, like, "Yes, your trauma is valid regardless of what it is," and sign my name than waste our readers' time and my breath answering with extra words. I just don't see the point in using more words than I need to. I try very hard to make it clear, especially in shorter responses, that I'm not trying to be hostile and am actively aware of my tone. Some answers have more words in them because I always try to make sure to explain what I feel could be misunderstood and that's not always easily done in one or two sentences.

Another thing that might be part of the issue is that Berry, for example, tends to answer asks by grouping paragraphs after which they hit enter only once, and I hit enter twice to start a new paragraph. That doesn't mean Berry's answer has any more actual content in it than mine does, it just might look like that because the format ends up looking more dense in Berry's answer.

Anyway, if someone feels like they want to answer a certain ask but doesn't have the spoons, they can save it with their name to the drafts, which is where a lot of our unpublished asks live. It's like the purgatory of the ask box, because sometimes I put an ask there and sometimes I only think about it. 😬

Asks that go to our drafts aren't ignored, that's just sort of a transition period. If the ask is slightly more complicated, we usually discuss it first in the mod Discord - which you guys obviously can't see. Sometimes if we collaborate on an ask, whoever sees it in the ask box first is the one who ends up answering it, but not always. But we usually just sign those with a single name for sake of ease. If we put all the names of all the mods who contributed any thought to an ask, most of them would have all of our names on them. Also, it's not necessarily accurate to sign my name to an ask if all I'm commenting on is the tone of an ask. Sure, I technically contributed, but I didn't say anything helpful.

If multiple people have thoughts on an ask, usually what we do is one person answers it and the others reblog with their thoughts. This ask is an exception because last time we answered an ask specifically about me that way, it escalated the situation, and we're trying to avoid that.

If none of us know how to answer an ask, we'll usually publish it for our followers' input after a week. I try to follow up about asks that are in drafts pretty often, so usually they don't sit there for a month, but like we've said multiple times, this month has been a bit of an outlier for all of us.

So essentially what I'm saying is that just because you don't see active ask collaboration happening doesn't mean it's not. It all happens in the Discord and, unless you're also a mod in our server, you're not going to see that discussion happening.

Hopefully this helps with the misunderstandings.

Mod Devyn

[fitnesstimesblog]

Disclaimer: There is no shortcut. If you have more to lose you will have to change your lifestyle drastically. If you only need to lose a couple of pounds you will still need to make some changes. Unless you have a very fast metabolism (which, if you are actively trying to lose weight, you most likely don’t) you will not lose 10 kg in 2 weeks. I am not creating this post as a weight loss programme, it is a guide to help you in making decisions on how you want to lose weight.You need to do this for yourself.

https://www.subscribepage.com/get_your_keto_diet_plan

Bad Habits that Make You Put on Weight

Mindless snacking: if you are going to eat snacks take a look at the serving sizes and stick to that. If you have a bag of popcorn actually weigh out the stated portion size into a bowl and only eat that. If you are dieting I would suggest not snacking or sticking to one snack a day.

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Low levels of activity, this is bad habit most people picked up during lockdown. People count steps for a reason - it is healthy to walk 10,000 steps a day and if you are trying to lose weight walking 10,000 - 15,000 will help a lot.

Takeaways. It is okay to get a fast food takeaway once or twice a week. A problem arises when people order takeaways almost everyday. I don’t have to tell you why that is not healthy. If you seriously want to lose weight stick to one takeaway a week or none at all. If you do buy takeaway make sure to purchase from the children’s menu as the portion sizes are smaller.

Lack of sleep. I am the biggest culprit of this, but you must get at least 8 hours of sleep a day. The negative effects lack of sleep has on your body seep into every aspect of your life. Turn off your phone at 10 pm and get some quality sleep

Not drinking enough water. Anyone successful weight loss journey involves a person up-ing their water intake. You should be drinking a minimum (and I mean bare minimum) of 2 litres of water everyday but when I am losing weight I like to up my intake to 3 litres +. On the opposite end of the spectrum don’t drink too much water (I know, contradictory right?). Drinking too much water is very dangerous so I would say slowly raise your uptake and never drink over 4 litres a day.

https://www.subscribepage.com/get_your_keto_diet_plan

Diet

Disclaimer: There are no shortcuts. When you have more to lose, you need to radically change your lifestyle. If all you need to do is lose a few pounds, there are still a few changes that you need to make. Unless you have a very fast metabolism (which you probably don't if you want to actively lose weight), you won't lose 10 kg in 2 weeks. I am not creating this article as a weight loss program, it is a guide to help you make decisions about how you want to lose weight. You have to do it yourself.

Bad habits that make you fat

Mindless Snacks: When you are snacking, watch your portion sizes and stick to them. If you have a bag of popcorn, weigh the serving size in a bowl and eat it. If you are on a diet, I recommend that you avoid or stick to one snack per day.

Low activity levels are a bad habit that most people develop while in detention. People count steps for a reason: it's healthy to take 10,000 steps a day, and if you're trying to lose weight, 10,000-15,000 steps will do you very well.

Take away. There's nothing wrong with buying takeaway fast food once or twice a week. A problem arises when people order takeaway food almost every day. I don't need to tell you why it's unhealthy. If you really want to lose weight, limit yourself to one or no intake per week. If you are buying to take away, be sure to buy from the children's menu as the portions are smaller.

Lack of sleep. I'm the biggest culprit for this, but you need to get at least 8 hours of sleep a day. The negative effects of insufficient sleep on your body permeate all aspects of your life. Turn off your phone at 10 p.m. and get a good night's sleep

Not Drinking Enough Water Any successful weight loss involves a person increasing their water intake. I should drink a minimum (and I mean the minimum) of 2 liters of water a day, but when I lose weight I happily increase my intake to 3+ liters. On the other side of the spectrum, you shouldn't be drinking too much water (I know, isn't that a contradiction in terms?). Drinking too much water is very dangerous so I would say increase your intake slowly and never drink more than 4 liters a day.

https://www.subscribepage.com/get_your_keto_diet_plan

Diet

Of course, calorie control is an important factor in dieting, but it has to be a healthy restriction. I would say never go under 1,500 calories. Very restrictive diets (<1500) are unsustainable, unhealthy, dangerous, and generally a bad idea.

Here are some of my diet "tips" that have helped me lose weight:

Drink soups. Creamy, stringy, veggie-filled, warm, and nutritious soups (can you say I love soups)? Soups are great for dieting because they are generally healthy, high in vitamins and nutrients, and more easily digested. I know that when I drink soups, I don't have gas and never feel that bloated. Serve with a slice or two of French baguette for a light dinner.

Eat five small meals throughout the day. If you limit your calories to 1,500, you can have five meals of 300 calories evenly throughout the day.

By stocking up on vegetables and fruits, you can eat more for fewer calories, such as: For example, eat a 250-calorie muffin or large banana, a bowl of raisins, and a can of raisins (230 calories). Try to get your nutrient sources from low fat options. Instead of getting your calcium from whole milk, go for skimmed milk, yogurt, sardines, beans, and lentils.

Cut down on carbohydrates. Not exactly, but you should try not to eat more than 2 slices of bread a day. Try not to eat more than 2 bowls of rice a day (choose brown rice, it's more nutritious). Eliminate juices, sodas, and other sources of unnecessary sugar. Prepare meals so you can make informed decisions about what to eat

Here is an example of how I ate while on my diet:

6:00 am - a large banana and oatmeal with soy milk 9:00 a.m. - a bowl of raisins and 1/2 sardine sandwich (1 slice of wholemeal bread) 12:00 - a plate of white rice with sauteed chicken breast and vegetables. 3:00 p.m. - Celery, cucumber and carrot sticks with hummus and grilled salmon 6:00 p.m. - Carrot soup with coconut milk and a slice of French baguette

https://www.subscribepage.com/get_your_keto_diet_plan

Exercise

The scourge of my existence. Sorry I didn't come here with advice on the gym and lifting for a six pack. I do not know how. I can only say that if you want to lose weight, cardio helps a lot (in my experience).

Just do cardio every day. Here are some examples:

Swimming (30 minutes) Walking (more than 10,000 steps) Jogging (30 minutes) Skipping rope (15 minutes) Elliptical trainer (30 minutes) Stationary bike (30 minutes) Rowing (20 minutes) Sprint intervals (30 minutes) HIIT, high-intensity interval training I've lost most of my weight through jogging and rowing, and I used to jog for 30-60 minutes three times a week and go to the rowing club twice a week. Remember that every route to weight loss and to the body is different. Find out what works for you.

The key point is that you try to start cardiovascular exercise at least 30 minutes a day, 5 days a week, and when you can increase the frequency and duration of the workouts.

General information

As I said, your journey is your journey. Do not compare your weight loss to anyone else's or try to rush the process. Think of it as a lifestyle change. A way to restore all of the unhealthy habits you have developed since you were born. Let it motivate you. Buy a goalkeeper you want to fit into and try on them regularly when you lose weight

That will be controversial. Weigh yourself once a month. Trust me. If you see this number drop after a month of hard work, you will feel a lot better. People who weigh themselves daily can base their diets and emotions on the number on the scales each day when weight loss is a combination of days and weeks of concerted effort.

https://www.subscribepage.com/get_your_keto_diet_plan

Be nice to yourself; Allow yourself to make a mistake and start over. You have to give yourself love, not hate and harsh words. Like telling a child who has fallen off a bicycle that everything is okay and needs to try again, the same grace and understanding should be shown. Join a weight loss support group or a neighborhood walking group - having support can be very uplifting and can make friends Occupy. When you're busy, don't eat. The way I maintain my weight loss and not fall into bad habits is to keep busy. Horseback riding, ballet, reading, bowling, gardening, work. Do whatever you can, don't sit idle and you will subconsciously increase your activity and end up eating without thinking.

[fanfictrashdump]

Universe in a Jar, 2 - Phase 4 fic

Recap: Some days ago, I reblogged this post about the magical trio. And then my brain went off on a monumental tangent and, I wrote Universe in a Jar.

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki, Wanda Maximoff, OC

Rating: T? 

Warnings: Language! Embarrassing use of euphemisms, mourning, grief, mention of parent death, flirting is you squint, neurological disorders, attempted accidental murder, and typos probs.

Summary: Baby-sitting beings arguably more powerful than him goes awry for Doctor Strange. He knows one person who can possibly keep them isolated and out of trouble. Well, he knew someone who could… he hasn’t seen them in decades and for stupid reasons. 

XX

Persephone paused at the kitchen entrance, steeling her resolve and gathering the courage to walk past the table to get herself a cup of coffee. The notion that she would have to make herself brave enough to get something in her own home was ridiculous, but her kitchen was currently full of magic beings, as it had been every day for the past week. That wasn't the bit that made her hesitant, not being strictly ordinary herself. It was the man bent over a bowl of blackberries, freshly plucked off of a bush out back, that made her anxious. It was the superimposition of the familiar sight, her friend picking out twigs, leaves and the occasional caterpillar from the fruit, with the dull memory of a storybook villain who laid her whole feelings to waste.

"Morning! There's coffee and I'm making pancakes!" Wanda announced, much more cheery than she had been in a long while. The silence and lack of activities of their little haven in rural Nebraska had given her plenty of time to deal with unpleasant feelings. The witch tossed a half dozen pancakes in the air, all of them flipping perfectly back onto the griddle with no mess. Some people were blessed with better magic than her, Seph realized a little bitterly. "They have blaaackberries!"

"Oh. I, um, yeah–"

Stephen made a small noise of amusement. "I got strawberries for you. I know you think blackberries taste too purple."

She was forced to look up at the face she had been dreading for a whole week. The corner of Stephen's mouth twitched upwards briefly in a not unkind manner. Purple splotches stained the front of his t-shirt, a sight that took her back to days of youth when they would fill their shirts with berries and stuff themselves under a shady tree. Clearly, he had not yet learned another method to carry produce.

"That is not a thing, I assure you," Loki quipped with a smirk. He had helped himself to a book from Seph's library and had kicked his feet up on another chair, watching as the other two tinkered with breakfast.

"I have synesthesia. So, it is, actually, a thing."

She skirted past the men to the coffee maker, pouring herself a fresh cup and helping herself to the milk and sugar that had been left beside it. Wanda was good at this homemaker lark, considering Seph felt like she was an esteemed guest in her own home. Wanda had remarked several times that she liked to make people feel welcome and that she felt guilty for dropping in with the 'Magic Castle rejects' and causing 'unwarranted levels of trauma'. Seph had reassured her that she was fine with the company and it wasn't even bad to have Stephen around, but there was always an edge in her voice and a hint of mistruth in her voice that failed to convince the other woman.

"What in this Midgardian Hel is synesthesia?"

"Mis-wired sensory neurons." Stephen and Persephone answered in unison, startling each other and sharing a long, tense look before she continued. "My taste and sight are a little crossed."

"So your brain is broken." Despite the bluntness of his statement, Loki did not sound mean, more curious.

"More like it perceives differently."

"Mm." He was quiet for a long time after that one hum. The only noise in the kitchen being the sizzle of pancakes and the occasional sip of coffee. "How do you perceive portals? Do you feel the energy and shape it?"

Seph tilted her head in thought. She knocked Loki's legs from the chair and sank into the seat. Stephen and Wanda pretended to be engrossed in their task of making pancakes while they eavesdropped on the conversation. "No. It's like… have you ever seen those forests in a bottle? With like the microplants and worms, and you water it and close it. And it'll basically a self-sustaining entity as long as you don't open it? I see it like that, but the bottle is very flexible and bigger on the inside. Like the TARDIS."

"The what?"

"Time and relative dimension in space. It's a space and time travel machine. It's bigger on the inside," Stephen explained, mixing his fourth cup of coffee of the morning, which did not help with the shaking of his hands but it did wonders to quell his nauseous anxiety.

Loki's eyes widened with excitement. "Where can we acquire one?"

Seph smiled, reaching over to pat Loki's hand. "It's a television show, buddy. It's not real."

"Then why bring it into the conversation?"

"It was a good comparison. I didn't know quality entertainment was so lacking in Asgard." The atmosphere shifted subtly and Seph looked up from her cup of coffee to see all three magicians tense. "What?" More silence followed. Stephen's eyes flittered to Loki and everything made sense. This Loki had not lived through the chaos of moving his people to Earth. She then remembered Wanda giving her an update on everyone a few days ago and how he had not really taken everything all too well… fuck. "Oh. Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Loki."

The Asgardian smiled, a calm, bright expression that looked a little forced. "No worries."

Pushing the coffee away, she angled her body to Loki's and grasped his hand. "It's OK to be sad about losing a home that never truly accepted you, Lo–"

Stephen rolled his eyes and muttered. "Here we go."

Seph groaned, closing her eyes to settle herself. "No one's talking to you, Stephen!"

"Bleeding heart."

"Scalpel jockey."

He scoffed. "You could've done any specialty, chosen any residency–"

"And that's what I did. Not all of us are content hacking into people's heads."

"Not content in making a real difference, you mean?"

"Yes, tell me how that surgical career is working for you right now, Strange!" It was a low blow, she knew, and there was almost a feeling of guilt as he closed his fists to mask the shuddering of his hands self-consciously.

"I'm sure your business is booming. A couple of global catastrophes have probably got the nutjobs flocking to the brilliant psychiatrist, Dr. Hale."

Seph let out a disdainful laugh. "Considering most of my patients are kids who can suddenly levitate shit around their room or accidentally set things on fire, yes. My business is booming. If only the Earth had a protector that would keep global catastrophes from happening and triggering powers in scared kids." She swigged from her coffee and leaned back in her chair. "At least they have someone to talk to."

He slammed his own cup onto the kitchen table and chuckled. "And there it is! We talked almost twenty minutes without you bringing it up, Seph. Good job! You're getting bett–"

His cutting remarks were cut off abruptly, leaving only an odd mutter and the thumping of fist on glass. Around him, walls of a shimmery energy created a box and closed off all noise from the Sorcerer Supreme. His protests sounded like they were coming from underwater, though the walls were clear and solid to the touch. It almost looked like a specimen jar for entomologists–a killing jar.

"He's quiet, at the very least," Loki remarked, turning to give Seph a smile only to find her hazel eyes glowing as if they were leaking light, contrasting starkly with her dark skin. Her hands were shoulder width apart. Distractedly, she tilted her head, curls shifting slightly, and brought her hands closer together. The box rippled, and with it Strange coughed, suddenly panting for breath as he thumped his fist on the wall. "Persephone. Seph. Seph!" The woman showed no signs of hearing him, intensely focused on just the box and her prey. "Wanda!"

Wanda turned from the stove, midway through an eye roll before she dropped her spatula and swirling a large red orb in her hands and directing it towards the glass. The barrier shimmered but barely moved. Loki worked green and golden magic over Seph, trying to break through the blocks in her mind, but was becoming continually distracted by Stephen trying to magic his way out of the enclosure until he slumped forward, breathing shallowly.

"Come on, Seph. You need to let him go. It's not going to help." His eyes drifted to Strange. The sling ring had his magic flicker shortly before dying. Something about that box was not letting him enchant. "Persephone, killing him won't make it better. Believe me. Knowing the person who made you suffer is dead only gives you more grievances."

Wanda surrounded the bottle with her magic. It deformed and shifted, but was no closer to breaking apart to when she started. "I need help and Strange doesn't have long."

"Switch!" Loki turned his attention to the box, his magic making the whole thing shudder.

Wanda had taken his place and was fluttering her fingers beside Seph's temple, red tendrils flowing between them in an effort to access the other's mind. She frowned. "She's… she's keeping me out. How is she doing this? This shouldn’t be possible."

"Impossible is our specialty. Just keep trying." Loki grit his teeth, drawing and gathering his magic and concentrating it in one small, brilliant pebble. With a grunt of effort, he shot the projectile at the glass and a small crack appeared. "Oh for fuck's sake!" 

He repeated the process several times until the crack extended and opened just enough for air to flow in. Stephen breathed a little easier but was still looking weak, his skin sallow and pale; lips a sickly purple. With one last growl, Loki’s magic exploded outward, and the box shattered with a spine-quivering screech. He barely had the time to snatch the Sorcerer before he collapsed on the ground.

Seph inhaled sharply, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs from her mind, and opened her eyes to find all three guests staring at her with furrowed brows and narrowed gazes. Her gaze connected with Wanda, who still had her magic at the ready, to Stephen who was hanging off Loki's shoulder, desperately moving air into his lungs, to Loki who just looked concerned. On the floor, shards of shimmering glass rested, shaking to some unknown Universal vibration pattern before disappearing.

"Well, at the very least, he'll know not to antagonize you, now," Loki quipped, breaking the tense silence.

"Loki, no–" Stephen groaned, watching Seph disappearing from the kitchen, her footsteps echoing up the stairs.

About an hour later, Seph heard her bedroom door squeak open. She sat up like a shot and shuffled back against the headboard. Stephen closed the door behind him, his eyes fixed on her shaking form.

"Don't. Just, go back outside. I'll stay here. I–I can't be anywhere near any of you," she rambled, eyes wide and glittering with tears.

"It's a house full of magicians, we'll survive." He placed a stack of strawberry pancakes soaked in syrup on the bedside table. "You should eat. That kind of display… you should be exhausted right now. Why aren't you exhausted?" The question he tacked onto the end sounded rhetorical.

Reluctantly, she grabbed the plate just as her stomach growled. She picked at the pancakes before taking a bite. She winced at the taste, the color was too vibrant, too in-your-face. Stephen had definitely not had a hand in making these. He was terrible, but he remembered details like it was no one's business. Swallowing the bite, she put the plate back, wincing. With little warning, Stephen had pulled her hand towards him, a handful of long scratches etched into her palm, like the shattering of the box had recoiled into her hands.

"What? You hurt yourself and you don't say anything?" He tutted under his breath, bringing the other hand to his inspection to find similar scratches.

"Stop."

"I'll have to get the First Aid kit–"

"Loki, stop!"

Stephen frowned, eyes narrowing. "Loki?"

"Loki. Stop. Now."

The Sorcerer stared for another minute, face tight, before the glamour shimmered and faded in its entirety. "How did you know?"

She turned her hands to tap on his palms, held out steadily to hold hers. "He lets them shake when he's focused on something else. And the food was a little too bright."

"I knew I should've asked him to make it." He sighed, shrugging before gesturing for her hands back. "Let's have a look, pet." After a second's hesitation, she returned her hands and left them to his mercy. His magic stung her palms, but she remained still, occasionally sucking air through her teeth at the sensation of rapid healing.

"I thought you didn't like him." She said, out of the blue, but he immediately understood.

"He's been decent enough." He paused for another moment. "I'm also certain there is some sort of cosmic balance that would gravely suffer if that bother of a human is killed.” He waved his hands in a flourish and grinned. “There we go." 

"I'm sorry."

Loki frowned. "What ever for?"

"You guys are supposed to be laying low and recuperating not dealing with a fool with no sense of control."

"No control? Persephone, you wanted to kill Strange."

"Exactly! I–"

"No. You misunderstand me." He leaned down to level their stared. "You wanted to kill Strange. I could see it in your mind but I couldn't break through. You have excellent control. Which is why I had to go for the box and not your mind. I would've had to kill you to break the magic, if I had."

"So, I'm a psychopath?"

He laughed, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "No, dear. You're just very angry at him. I hate to say it, but you might have to talk this through like adults."

Seph frowned. "Have you ever tried to have a conversation with Stephen Strange?"

"Yes. It was painful." He laughed. "He's not unreasonable, though. He's just a bit of a…"

"Control freak?"

He smirked and nodded. "Your adjective is kinder."

"Usually is." The pair glanced over at the door to see Stephen leaning against the frame, arms crossed. "I was always the asshole in the duo."

Seph made an annoyed noise in the back of her throat. "Do none of you knock? Were you all raised in a barn?"

Stephen snorted. "We grew up in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska, where we, quite literally, spent most of our free time in a barn. You're lucky we speak in complete sentences given the public education system here."

"I know your mother taught you how to knock, Stephen Strange."

He rolled his eyes, quickly getting frustrated. "And yours taught you how to be polite. We both failed our mothers, it seems."

Seph's eyes flashed briefly and Loki made a warning noise loud enough to break her out of the glowing trance. "Have you learned nothing, you idiot?" Turning back to her, he smiled. "What he means to say is, memories have made him miserable and pent up all week and it’s making him snarky, but he is ready to give up the torture of having you angry at him."

"I haven't been miserable and pent up." Stephen’s tone was indignant and his chin jutted out defiantly. Loki was there to match his haughty tone with one of his own.

"Oh, so the self-immolation in her name was a coincidence?"

"I wasn't–"

She mouthed the phrase to herself several times, turning it over in her mind. Stephen looked fine, little scratches and scars from attempting to wrangle the other two, aside. Her doctorly instincts were not sounding any alarm bells that usually came on when she suspected any type of self harm. Was he maybe mentally torturing himself? "Self-immola–? Oh my god." She could barely look at either of the men. She definitely did not have to know what any of them got up to in the privacy of their own rooms. "Stephen!"

"I wasn't! Are you seriously listening to him about this?" He defended, though there was a jerky sort of nervousness in his movements and his cheeks blazed red.

Loki mouthed 'he was' at her and Seph covered her face with a pillow because suffocating in the fabric was a better alternative to this conversation. "Midgardians are such prudes, honestly. You're a beautiful woman and what I can presume is a source of comfort to him. He was very respectful of you in his thoughts–"

"How long were you watching me?"

"Long enough to respect your endurance.” Movement caught his attention. “Darling, where are you going?" Seph had thrown herself out of bed and was marching towards her closet, only to find that the door wouldn't budge. Same happened to the main door, en suite, wardrobe, even the drawers in her dresser. She wasn't going anywhere and Loki had made sure that every avenue of escape was unavailable.

Stephen scoffed. "Well, I can still lea–" He patted down his pockets and let out a groan. "Loki!"

"Looking for this?" The god held Stephen's sling ring between his thumb and index. "You can have it back when you've made nice."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I am done being in the middle of conflicts. I didn't like it five hundred years ago and I don't like it now. I detest having to scramble to keep her from killing you. This is the third time this week. Every time you anger her, the response is stronger." Stephen opened his mouth to protest, but Loki marched on. "What happens when her emotion and rage outweigh her control? I barely freed you today. Next time, she will succeed."

The Sorcerer rolled his eyes, ever the dramatic soul. "Yes, tell me how you'll weep."

"It'll barely register in my mind but it will destroy her, Strange!" The men’s argument was catching momentum fast, complete with random pointing in her direction and very colorful expletives.

"Could you not talk about me like I'm not in the room?" She murmured, just as the screaming match between the two started to elevate, scuffing her feet on the ground with a pout.

Loki swallowed the, no doubt acidic, retort he had poised on his tongue. "Apologies, flower. I meant no disrespect." He gave her an encouraging smile, holding his hand out to her. "But this is an issue that must be resolved sooner rather than later." After a moment's hesitation, she slapped her hand into his with a sigh and he chuckled. "Don't seem so enthusiastic."

"It's not about holding your hand–," she defended quickly, her eyes rounding with sadness as she fell back into her spot on the mattress.

"I was kidding, darling." He glanced at the Sorcerer. "Stephen."

"I'm not holding your hand, dude," he retorted instantly.

"Good. I've seen where it's been, I don't want it near me at the moment." Seph giggled quietly and Loki looked extremely pleased with himself at the sound. Stephen frowned, jealousy gnawing at his stomach. "Stop pouting, Strange. It's unbecoming."

"He doesn't deal well with negative emotions. So, he pouts a lot."

"I do not!"

"And denies negative feelings. Acknowledging them means he didn't successfully lock them into a tiny chest, wrapped them in chains and dropped them into the ocean."

"You're making me sound like a sociopath."

Seph fixed him with a raised brow look. "Where's the lie?"

Irritation clouded his speckled blue gaze, expression falling into the bored mask he usually wore. "Alright, this was a mistake. Loki, let me out."

"When's the last time you cried, Stephen?"

"Don't analyze me, Hale." His hissed tone would have intimidated a lesser human, but she remained as passive as ever. 

"It's a simple question, bud. I want to know how irritating you're going to be through this conversation."

"Does it matter?"

"It makes my point. You've always been awful with expressing yourself because you've convinced yourself that whatever asshole mask you put on makes you seem more mature. If you–"

"Match day."

"What?"

"Match day. I haven't really cried since residency match day. We weren't talking and you went off to Chicago and I stayed in New York. That's when I knew I lost you."

Loki leaned into her and asked under his breath. "When was that?"

"Decade and a half ago."

His eyes bugged out at her before turning back to Strange. "Decad–what is wrong with you?"

"You've had ample crying in the last decade and a half, have you?"

"I've had ample crying in the last ten and a half days. What the fuck is broken inside you?"

"Hey! Be nice!" Seph snapped, glaring at the god.

Loki rolled his eyes. "Abandoned you for your powers when you were at your lowest?"

"Oh. Right."

A long pause followed.

"I didn't know how to go back," Stephen admitted quietly. "I stood outside your building for three months. I could never knock. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the look on your face when I blew up at you… I knew I couldn't fix it. I still do."

Despite the ice that flowed through his veins, he couldn’t not stare back at the accusatory glare in her eyes. "I flew back home alone."

"I know."

"I identified her body alone."

"I know."

"I buried her alone. She loved you like you were hers and you didn't show up to her funeral, Stephen. I just…" Tears cut off the rest of her sentence, a sob gripping her throat. After a long while, she sniffled, wiping messily at her face. She chanced a look at him, his expression hard and his left eye twitching the same way it did when he was particularly upset about something. Twenty years and she could still tell when he was shoving his guilt down. "You're the one who leaves her flowers." Seph sighed, thinking about the bouquet of violets that were always there whenever she visited her mother's grave, and the fact that in recent times, it seemed like the visits had risen exponentially. Which made sense, since he could open a portal to the other side of the country at any given time.

He shrugged. "You leave mine flowers, too." He sighed, glancing hard at the floor. "I didn't forget my whole damn life just because you weren't speaking to me, Seph."

"To not have been speaking to you requires an effort for you to speak to me, wouldn't there?"

"She has a point."

"Shut up, Loki."

"Just moderating, Strange."

"I was stupid and scared. I went to you for everything. Feeling happy, feeling sad, stressed–you were the go-to for advice. Ironically, the person I would've asked for advice on how to approach you… was you." He forced a chuckle, feeling ridiculous. "Much like, full disclosure, the person I asked dating advice for was also you."

She cackled. "Yeah. No shit, Sherlock. I asked you what your mystery girl liked and it sounded like you were reading from my diary. You weren't exactly subtle."

"I threw in some bad information."

"You said she might be into girls."

Stephen's mouth flapped open several times before he dragged a hand down his face. "In retrospect, yeah, I pretty much described you, but I wasn't sure if you were into both."

"We went on three separate dates, you just didn't fucking notice!"

"And you were attracted to him?" Loki interrupted, eyes narrowed and looking between the two. "Were there no other options in lovers?"

"Shut up, Loki!" They replied in unison.

Seph smiled sadly, her fingers absently trailing over Loki's in an effort to distract her mind. "I would've forgiven you the second you knocked on my door if you had just apologized and meant it. Not something out of obligation or because I was literally your last resort."

"I'm not good at admitting when I'm wrong. You know that."

"Truly a tragedy, considering you're wrong a lot of the time, even if you swear up and down that you’re right," she teased, sounding like a well-practiced jab.

There was a bit of amusement lighting up Stephen's face. "I get one question wrong on a test, thirty years ago and it's all you ever talk about the rest of our lives."

"I also got a better score than you on the MCAT, so…"

He barked out a laugh. "I hate you so much." The smile slowly melted from his face, leaving behind a passive expression. He felt relaxed, less uptight. Whether that was due to the tension in the air lifting the slightest bit or the fact that he could feel her familiar aura as he had for so much of his life, he didn't know. "I'm really sorry, Peep. Leaving you is a regret I'll take to my grave."

Her nose scrunched at the long-forgotten nickname and shook her head, deciding that she knew better than to tell him to forget that endearment ever existed. "I'm sorry I tried to kill you, I guess. In my defense, you were asking for it."

"That's fair."

"Did I hurt you?"

He smirked. "Crushed my lungs a bit. Nothing permanent." He tilted his head. “Why? Is it going to become a common occurrence?”

Persephone's face clouded. "I don’t know, Stephen. It’s a process. I can’t just–”"

“You can’t just forgive him like nothing happened. He understands.” Loki pinched her cheek playfully, leaving her to bat it away with an irritated pout. "Hold your grudge. Keep it for as long as you need, but don't let it poison you. Stupid things happen when you let grief color your perception."

"Whatever. I promise not to murder him, at the least.” Heavy expression fell on the Asgardian, next. “Also, if you ever use the phrase self-immolate in your name, again, I will punch you in the face. I didn't need to know that."

"I WASN'T!"

"I don't care if you did. I don't want to know while I'm still really pissed at you. Got it?"

Both of the men mumbled a "fine" under their breaths before a collective click resounded around the room. They were free once more. Stephen hesitated at the door, his demeanor giving off the impression that he was building up to say something. Seph watched him expectantly only to have him drop his shoulders and turn on his heel, twisting the doorknob to make a hasty retreat.

"Him? Of all people? Really?"

Seph laughed, rolling her eyes. "He was the boy next door. And he's always been pretty hot."

"You can do better." His voice was smooth and rumbly and made her raise her eyebrows.

"I think you mean I can do worse."

Loki smirked. "Norns, I hope you do."

[missmentelle]

Hi! I was reading your blog and I noticed that you and your partner are currently separated due to COVID-19. I am in a similar situation: I live in the US and my boyfriend lives in Europe, and we don't know when we will see each other again because borders are closed and neither of us can legally cross either border right now. I am having an incredibly hard time dealing with this uncertainty, and it is making me very anxious and depressed. Do you have any advice on how to cope with this?

(continuation of last ask) my boyfriend and I do talk every day via Whatsapp, which I'm grateful for, but I'm deeply struggling with not knowing when I will see him next and when we'll be able to start a life together. Thank you for all of the great information you provide on this blog, and I'm sorry to hear about what happened in Canada. ♥

Honestly, this is something that I’m struggling with too, and I think it’s uncharted territory for a lot of couples in our situation. My boyfriend and I have been long-distance for a period of time before while I waited for a US visa to come through, but we had a definite end date in that situation - not knowing whether it’ll be May, October or April 2021 before I see him again has been extremely difficult for both of us, and I think we’re mostly just trying to do the best we can. 

There are a couple things that I have found helpful, however, for making this indefinite long-distance more tolerable, and they might be helpful for you:

Planning for the future together. Obviously we don’t know the timeline of this pandemic, but we do know that it will end someday, and planning for post-pandemic life can help both of us to look forward to the future, rather than seeing the future as a source of dread. As an international couple that wants to live together, we know that marriage is not really optional for us - especially if we want to settle in the USA - and talking about our plans for engagement, marriage and settling in together helps both of us stay positive, and it makes sure that we are both on the same page about what we want for this relationship. If you’re not at the stage yet where you’re talking about marriage, discussing trips you want to take together or things you want to do together after the pandemic is over can also help you to find things to look forward to. 

Playing online games together. My boyfriend and I are both on Steam, and we have a small collection of multiplayer games that we can play together online. Having video games in common is helpful because it gives us something to talk about that isn’t connected to the pandemic or lockdown. There are a lot of fun, low-key two-player games that you can get even if you are new to gaming (things like “Overcooked” are great), and exploring a new hobby together can be a fun distraction. If you really just can’t get into gaming together, finding any kind of new project or hobby you can do together will work - you could start a podcast or webcomic together, learn a new language together, try new recipes together to see whose turns out better, etc. Have things in your lives that make you feel engaged with each other and give you things to talk about other than “we don’t know when we will see each other again”. 

Having “dates”. My boyfriend and I schedule times each week to have video calls with each other, or to have “movie dates” where we watch the same show on Netflix with a “Watch Party” program. Chatting back and forth on WhatsApp all day is great, but blocking out actual time to dedicate to one another with no other distractions helps us to still feel like we are an active part of each other’s lives, and makes both of us feel more engaged in the relationship. 

Talking openly about worries and insecurities. If you are worried that the time spent apart will affect the relationship or if you’re struggling with worries about the future, tell your partner that. The two of you are in this together, and it’s easier to work through insecurities together. If you need some reassurance or comfort, tell your boyfriend - there’s a good chance that he is struggling with the same things, and just knowing that the other person is on the same page can make it easier to face this uncertain situation.

Limiting exposure to the news and time spent discussing the pandemic. It’s important to be informed and to be aware of changes in public health guidelines, but consuming pandemic-related news 24/7 is not healthy. Watching people speculate about how bad the pandemic is going to get isn’t helpful if you are already having a hard time with anxiety about the situation. Try to limit the time you spend talking about the pandemic or learning about the pandemic to only what you need in order to stay informed - otherwise, try to limit your media diet, and spend more time focusing on other topics.

Taking care of our individual health as best we can. It’s hard to manage your anxiety and cope with an uncertain situation if your general mental health and self-upkeep are lacking. There are a lot of things going on right now that could really impact a person’s mental health - isolation, uncertainty, scary news, money problems, etc. It’s important to put more of a conscious effort into maintaining good mental health than you would under normal circumstances. Keep in touch with friends and family online or on the phone. If you can safely go for walks or get outside while maintaining social distancing, try to do that. Try to keep to a somewhat regular schedule, and eat actual meals rather than grazing throughout the day. If you are an essential worker, take care to protect yourself and communicate with your supervisor if you are struggling. Try to find a hobby or activity that takes your mind off of things. Access mental health resources if you need to - many areas have now set up free hotlines for people in need. Take extra-good care of yourself. 

This pandemic may seem huge and daunting now, but it will end someday. We will be back in our partners’ arms and life will return to some semblance of normal. And until that day comes, we will do our best to not just endure our lives in lockdown, but to try to enjoy them as best we can while we look toward the future.  Best of luck to you! Miss Mentelle