#They can both speak it conversationally though!

[scrollingfan]

Testing an artsyle on the Kamado siblings

[od4saku]

Geto Suguru falls in love for the first time at 15.

He doesn’t know how he’s never seen you before— by the first time he sees you, he’s already halfway through his first year at Tokyo’s Prefectural Jujutsu high school. You’re a second year, and so, so cool. All loud laughter and confidence, sharp smiles and intelligence— he can’t help but admire you.

He likes to think that his status as a special grade sorcerer can separate him from being a cringey teenaged boy with a disastrous crush. In hindsight, it may have just made it worse. His attempts to impress you, constant and perpetual, never went quite right. Ever the gentleman, Geto would do all the chivalrous things. He would open doors for you, and then get hit in the face by them. He’d pull out your chair, and then trip over the legs. He tried, though, he really did. And you seemed to pick up on that.

Maybe you were simply entertaining his awkward attempts at being smooth. Maybe you were just playing along. But sometimes when he made a joke, you would laugh and touch his arm. And other times when he messed something up or did something stupid, you would call him ‘so cute’ which caused his friends to tease him and made him go red in the face. He had always thought of himself as smooth, calm, collected. You proved that everything could change.

At was almost the end of the school year when Gojo’d managed to rule Geto up enough to urge him to speak on his feelings. It’s February. A layer of frost encases the world, as if it was trying to preserve it, keep it that way forever. But the sun was suspended in the sky, chipping away at the icy covering. Change is coming, says the sky. Geto agrees. He will welcome it, even. It must be a good omen, he presumes, a sign of fortune to come.

You are knelt down by a small pond. With a stick in hand, he observes you for a moment as you appear to poke at the thinning sheet of ice covering the body of water.

“What are you doing?” He can see, he knows, but he asks anyways. You turn over your shoulder and give him a bright, bright smile. He feels himself melting inside.

“I was waiting for Mei Mei, for our assignment in Shibuya. But she’s going to be late, I think.” You frown a little, and he joins you on the ground in front of the little pond. The both of you watch as chunks of ice slowly decay into nothingness as the sunlight licks the surface. Greedy like a child with ice cream. Always taking more. (Change is coming.)

“So, this isn’t a bad time?”

You look at him again, shifting your body to face him rather than the pond. Soft beams of sunlight kiss your cheek, and he takes in every detail. How your eyes glow warm, bright, so bright, even though you have to squint a little. How your hair turns to fire. How you are looking at him and only him. “No. Is there something you need to say to me, Geto?”

He’s so confident. He will tell you that yes, he wants to ask you to lunch at a café he found in the city. He wants to pay for your food, and pull out a chair for you without falling over. He wants to take you on a date. He wants to tell you about how he likes you, why he likes you, and argue a thesis as to why you would be good together. So he opens his mouth.

None of that comes out.

“No. I was just curious,” he lies through his teeth, gesturing to the pond. Oh, he’s fucked this. Gojo and Shoko were most definitely going to get on his ass about this later. He grimaces a grin as you smile.

“Ah, don’t mind me! I was just killing time, you know?”

He’s 15, almost 16. He’s a special grade jujutsu sorcerer. He is one of the strongest. You made him so, so weak. He forgets himself, sometimes. That he is still a boy despite it all.

He hums conversationally, though he’s feeling particularly embarrassed internally. “So cold out. Do you think we’ll get snow?”

At least Geto is good with his words, good enough to cover up his lull, his fumble. At least you don’t notice anything wrong as you respond with a glance skyward, “hm. I doubt it. I wish, though.”

“Really? Don’t you want nicer weather?”

You tilt your head a little and he feels dizzy, and lightheaded. He isn’t paying much attention to what you’re saying even though he should be. Geto is more focused on the slope of your nose, the angle of your cheeks, the curve of your hand as it thrums against your thigh. “In my opinion, snow is the best kind of weather. I like how everything fits together. And I like when it melts. How it smells and all.”

He laughs. “You’re so weird.”

You punch his shoulder lightly. “Plus, snow reminds me of when I was younger. Snowball fights, shopping for scarves and coats and gloves, all that. So I guess it’s personal.”

He softens. You give him another smile but it’s melancholy this time. A nostalgia. He wants to engrave it into his memory. Keep you forever. “Do you wish you could go back ever?”

You would be lying if you said no, so you say yes instead. “But there’s no point in thinking about that, yeah? We can do all that now. Next winter. Let’s build an igloo or something, Geto.”

The smile is on his face before he knows it and he’s pried away from the emotional intimacy as soon as it’s shown itself. You are bright again and he is a moth. Enamoured by you, always. “Let’s.”

He bids you farewell a moment or so later when Mei Mei’s silhouette appears in the distance. He would be more upset, if he thought about his lack of confession. But as always, conversing with you is fulfillment enough. He can always ask when you get home, he thinks. He can ask, and you can say yes. And you can plan out the igloo you’re going to build, and he can map out the future house you’re going to share.

Except, the ice melts in the pond. And the frost turns to water permeating the soil. And you never come home.

This is Geto Suguru’s first taste of death. The impermanence of it all. The way that in less than a day, someone could be gone.

It was an oversight on the part of the initial reports. A special grade curse instead of two 1st grades. He knows because he is the one called in for backup, and he is the one who finds your body. You are cold like the snow by the time it is all over. Colder, even. And you’re still so pretty it hurts.

He’s never seen the body of a loved one before. He is so strangely detached and yet, at the same time, so full of anguish. Who could’ve stopped this? Could he have? What if you were alive? What would you say? Did it hurt? Were you going to be okay, wherever you were now? He thinks back to the conversation about the snow. He thinks back to the tripping over chairs, the way you always made space for anyone in any room. The way you loved so big in such little ways. The way it almost could’ve worked.

You taught Geto that change is inevitable. That death is always a part of life, especially for innocents, especially for those who deserve it the least. This is his beginning of the end. The way it will all begin to fall apart. Because he never got to know your favorite color. He never got to know how you like your coffee, or where you liked to shop. The only thing he knew is that you liked the cold. So next time it snowed, he would stay inside and lament the fact that if the world was a little different, and a lot kinder, you would be there with him.

You’d have said yes to his date, he believes. If you’d gotten the chance.

(Ice melts. The sun is hot, too hot. Change is coming.)

(Maybe it's already here.)

"Grief was a spare room where we put things." -Aimee Seu, Velvet Hounds

[stellamancer]

definitely not the first bten scribble i meant to post. probably not the last. it might go into ready steady but i'm not sure. initially gojo lived in an upscale apartment, but given the lore we got from jump giga........... i was going to delete it but i edited it and expanded it and here lmao.

"I was surprised, you know," Gojo says conversationally as he steps into the backseat of the car. "Didn't peg you as the type to be still living with their parents."

"You barely know me," you respond flatly, hopping in on the other side. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Gojo flash that infernal all-knowing smile of his.

"I know enough," he tells you, a note of playfulness coloring his tone. 

You cast a sidelong glance in his direction and then let out a sigh. "It's more economical to live with someone else."

"That so?" Gojo hums. When you don't answer him he adds. "Then why don't you come live with me?" 

His offer is initially met with silence. Is this just another one of his bad jokes or is he actually serious? You swivel your head just enough to see the smile spread across his face, his eyes unreadable behind those glasses of his; you can't tell. Then, you respond, "I was under the impression that Jujutsu Tech would provide me room and board like it does the regular students." 

You look at Ijichi through the rearview mirror and for some reason he looks a bit nervous as he nods. He clearly looks like he has something to add too, and when it's clear that neither you or Gojo are going to speak, he squeaks, "But Gojo don't you live on the campus as well? At least, you've never mentioned—"

Gojo's grin looks downright nefarious. "I do."

Your expression shifts into something akin to exasperation, but Gojo either doesn't notice or doesn't care. If you had to guess it's that it's the latter. 

"Don't you think it'd be fun?" He asks, his tone excessively playful. "It'd be like having a sleepover every night. Just without the sleeping probably." 

Gojo looks absolutely delighted as Ijichi squeals, his face turning bright red in response to Gojo's shitty joke. Part of you is a little surprised that Ijichi took it that way when you think it's fairly obvious that both you and Gojo are insomniacs for completely unsexual reasons. But then again, who really knows with that man. 

Regardless, you remain unaffected by his shitty joke. 

"My own room from the school will suffice," you say flatly, though honestly you wouldn't care either way. Actually, you wouldn't be surprised if the higher ups forced you both to live in the same space: hoping Gojo will babysit their latest volatile problem child. 

Gojo's lip pucker to form a pout. "Well, you're no fun."

[barry-j-blupjeans]

People didn't wander aimlessly through the woods like they used to. For a good while there, neither Edward nor Lydia had had to leave Wonderland for advertising. Someway or another, a poor hero or party would stumble through the Felicity Wilds and get drawn into Wonderland for their own various reasons— fame, riches, glory, all of the above. Word of mouth, of course, was to best way to advertise. But once you've killed someone, their icky flesh body started decaying much too fast. It was hard to leave the Felicity Wilds in a timely manner and still look enticing enough to lure people back in.

But this year had been rough. Maybe they scared away too many folks— Edward had to be honest: having the body he was possessing crumble to literal dust in front of the crowd he was advertising to hadn't been the best way to sell the glory of Wonderland. And letting people actually leave Wonderland was a no-go. They had learned that rather quickly.

So they were back to the basics. Magicking up their spectral forms into something appealing (though, with the lack of Suffering, it was getting quite hard to keep it together. Thus, why they could only go out as a pair.) and drawing unsuspecting forms deeper into the Wilds, straight into Wonderland. The old one-two, conversationally speaking.

And people just didn't wander aimlessly through the woods like they used to! So when Edward finally found their first catch of the day, it was important that he didn't slip right through their fingers.

"Oh," Lydia said, seeing the man not a second after Edward had. He could already hear the note of arrogance in her voice. "Oh, he'll do beautifully."

Indeed, the man looked like a perfect victi— ahem. Guest. He was human, older in age, so they'd have much more memories to draw on. He played the part of a worn-out traveler quite well. Mussed hair, and a worn, heavy satchel that jingled with every step he took. It was too quiet to be coins, but the white-knuckled grip he had on the strap of it told Edward it was something much more valuable than he could guess. His pants— though quite an unusual style, but who was Edward to say, having been dead for so long— were stained with mud. There was a bit of blood against one corner of his shirt, where the fabric had ripped.

But to be so steely with determination still? To walk through the Felicity Wilds alone and still be going strong? Edward did have to agree. Wonderland would suit this man perfectly.

"Long way from home, friend?" Edward asked. His form materialized next to a tree and he proceeded to lean against it. The man turned, startled. There was a crack in his glasses. Lydia appeared behind the tree, peeking out at the man as if she had been there the whole time.

"You, uh, you could say that," the man said.

"You're very brave, going through the Felicity Wilds alone," Lydia said. "Are you on your way to somewhere?"

"I'm, uh—" the man hesitated, looking between Lydia and Edward uncertainly. He seemed to be deciding on what to say. After a second, he continued with, "I'm looking for a place called Wonderland."

Bingo. Better than bingo, actually. Edward glanced at Lydia. They shared a grin.

"Wonderland, you say?" Lydia said, hand over her chest.

"You— I'm gonna hazard a guess and say you're familiar with it?" the man said.

"You could say," Edward said. "and what brings you to Wonderland, if I may ask?"

The grip the man had on his bag tightened. The object inside jostled, gently ringing again, and Edward felt inexplicably drawn to the sound. He could tell Lydia was, too, but they both refrained from showing. It was never a good look to be desperate or over-eager.

"I have… an artifact," the man said, slow and carefully choosing his words. "Of— of immeasurable magical power. And I was told that no one who goes into Wonderland ever, uhm, ever comes out. That's— This needs to be somewhere that no one can reach but— but they know they can try. It's— it's gotta be wanted. It's— it's—"

Searching through people's memories was a tad harder outside the walls of Wonderland, much less when they were this low on visitors. Still, Edward reached out with his magic, carefully slipping into the man's mind.

The world was ending. And then it wasn't. And then it was, again, and again, and again. It was a rush of information— much more than Edward had seen in the oldest elves, let alone a middle-aged human. Memories flew by fast enough that Edward couldn't catch any in his hands. A red haze was settled over the entirety of it all— Edward could see it clear as day.

The man was a lich.

This made things… much more interesting.

"Say no more," Lydia said, holding up a hand. Edward blinked himself back into the present, trying not to let his face show any surprise. "Lucky for you, we just so happen to know the way to Wonderland."

"For what price?" the man asked.

"What, you don't trust us?" Lydia said, pulling off a pout Edward had the displeasure of seeing her practice. At the man's face, they both laughed a little.

"I must say, I admire a man with a touch of hesitation," Edward said. "But we'll lead you with no extra charge. If this object is truly that important, then I say getting it to Wonderland is our highest priority, Barry."

"I never told you my name," the man said.

"You didn't have to, darling," Edward said. "Running a fortress in the middle of the Felicity Wilds lets you pick up a few things here and there."

"You—?"

"You'll have to excuse him," Lydia said, "My brother loves a dramatic reveal."

Edward could feel fire running through his veins, a pull in his chest leading them straight back to Wonderland. Lydia's cool and pleasant face broke in a way only he could see through— one victim would have been enough for a while. But the possibility of more was too savory to resist.

"We'll set off now," Lydia continued, "and we'll be there before dark."

"Now," Edward said as Lydia set their pace and the man stumbled after them. "Tell us more about this artifact."

[minecraftbookshelf]

Who Speaks What Language: Wither Rose Alliance Edition

Fwhip: Speaks Mythlandic as his first language. Has a very basic knowledge of Silvan, and can exchange polite greetings in most other languages and even more swears. Can usually decipher Galactic without a key, does need one to write in it unless it’s a specific word he already uses a lot and has memorized (#JustMadAlchemistThings)

Gem: speaks Mythlandic as her first language. Has better Silvan than Fwhip but still not fully conversational. Fully fluent in Galactic, own a treasured copy of an Oceanic Runic dictionary. Has been learning Sindarin and Quenya as much as possible through old books and bullying Xornoth to translate things for her. Fluent in Pixandrian, her Mezalean is nonexistent. She very badly wants to learn the Language of the Lost Empire but wrangling Joey to either teach her or send her someone who will is proving challenging. Most of her language knowledge is based around magical systems and records. She could probably hold a philosophical debate in more than one language she could not ask for directions in.

Sausage: Mythlandic is his first language and he is conversationally fluent in Mezalean and Silvan as well. Knows more swears than Fwhip, including some in the Swamp Dialect (mostly from Jimmy saying them). Also knows how to flirt in Pixandrian and Mezalean and is learning how in the Language of the Lost Empire by third-wheeling Joey and Xornoth. Wants to learn to curse in any elvish language but Xornoth doesn’t curse and refuses to teach him.

Pearl: Speaks the Helianthian dialect of Mythlandic, Fluent in Silvan, learning both Sindarin and Quenya from Xornoth at a rapid pace. Also fluent in Pixandrian, as they are a major trade partner.

Joey: His first language is the Language of the Lost Empire. Which still does not have a name. Is still learning Mythlandic, though he is fluent. Is also learning Quenya and Sindarin and some Gnomish.

-

Ocean Alliance Edition

The Fae Squad Edition

[wishcamper]

PREVIEW FOR CHAPTER XIX of my current WIP (on ao3 here)

I had so much fun writing this scene I wanted to share before the next chapter is done. Here's is a little Nesta/Lucien for you!

----

Lucien Vanserra was a handsome male, even Nesta wouldn’t deny that, and despite his unwelcome entry into their lives at the worst possible moment, she had nothing poor to say of his character so far. Yet past the veneer a ferality lived inside him that reminded her in moments of Rhysand, some fire he kept dampened with elegant manners and courtly grace. It seemed he was using all of the above to steady himself as he politely invited Nesta inside for tea instead of asking her why of all the doors in all the world she’d knocked on his this bright winter morning.

“My lady, I must confess ignorance as to the purpose of your visit.” His hands were folded neatly atop his crossed legs, and something about the formality of it settled Nesta, helped her lower her guard enough to attempt a small smile as she leaned back in the comfortable chair in his front parlor. She knew the rules of engagement, and had come prepared for her opening moves.

“I have a few questions that I hoped you’d be kind enough to entertain for me.”

The parlor was warm and sumptuous, the furniture in velvets of red and purple accented with burnished gold and brass, temperate despite the low fire as the only source of heat. Once she got over the shock that he owned a tea set in the first place, she tried not to marvel at the scenes of an autumn hunt adorning it, the tiny hounds chasing hares and pheasants through a golden forest as a cadre of archers pursued on horseback. The people of Velaris streamed past the plush-curtained front window laden with bags and packages for Solstice, called out good tidings to each other as they rushed to and from their errands.

Her mouth ached looking at the group huddled around a vendor selling spiced mulled wine, so much that she could almost feel the hot liquid sliding down her throat, warming her insides and setting her mind adrift.

Unfortunately (or, perhaps, fortunately), the task at hand required wits the wine would not permit.

Once she’d assured him that Elain was fine, and that she was not here to rip his head off for some unknown offense against her sister, Lucien settled once more in his wingback and indicated her to proceed.

“Are there ways to detect glamour? Or to reveal its influence?” Nesta said conversationally, trying to seem interested in the theoretics. She’d chosen to arrive spontaneously to get his honest, unprepared answers, though it did come with risk of his suspicion.

“Yes, many,” Lucien said. The faelights caught the copper in the long ponytail draped over one shoulder. “You can buy charms that are rather expensive, or certain fae can learn revealing spells. But more advanced glamours can evade both.”

If he was surprised by the question he didn’t let on, and his answers seemed truthful, she thought, but there was a furrow in his brow as he took a sip of his own tea. She’d never known much of Lucien beyond his unwelcome intrusion into their lives, but he’d never seemed inauthentic or crafty despise his vulpine looks. It reminded her of Cassian in a way, his inability to stifle his natural reactions.

“Are there similar ways to detect the influence of daemati?” The word felt unwieldy, like a marble in her mouth.

“There aren’t, actually..” He trailed off, a finger tapping beside his saucer, and that furrow appeared again as he didn’t speak for a long moment. Nesta cleared her throat, disrupting whatever train of thought he’d gotten lost in, and he looked up with a somewhat guilty expression. “When your sister.. When Feyre returned to Tamlin after Rhysand called in their bargain, we tried to find a way to see if he’d altered her memories. But it doesn’t exist.”

“I see.” Nesta stored the information away - no one had shared the full story of Feyre and her mate, for good reason it seemed. Not to push too far now, but perhaps at a later time. She asked a few more questions about glamours and daemati, hoping to bury her intentions in the flow. “What about influence from a mating bond?”

She could tell immediately the tactic didn’t work - both of Lucien’s eyes narrowed on her, his body falling still with his cup half-raised to his lips, as if finding he’d let himself relax too much in her presence and was just now realizing his mistake. He set the cup down without drinking and continued to squinted at her, metal eye clicking.

“My lady, why are you asking me this?”

Nesta stalled. She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but it was worth it if she could get the information she needed.

“It’s nothing to do with Elain. You’re the only one -'' She paused, swallowing around the lie. “You’re the only one I can ask who knows of a mating bond from a male’s perspective.”

It took a moment for the words to wash over him, and Lucien blinked at her unseeing until his whole body slumped in the chair, where he dropped his head into a hand and muttered, “Cauldron boil me.”

Something inside her froze at the casual invocation, and Lucien jerked his head up at her sharp intake of breath, noted her flutter of panic with a guilty half-smile.

“Apologies. That was in poor taste.” He gave a long sigh and surveyed the tea before them with a skeptical brow. “This won’t do at all, will it?”

Nesta watched with mounting fascination as Lucien gave a curt nod at whatever he’d just decided and produced a gold-filigree case from the breast pocket of his green velvet surcoat to reveal a row of tightly-rolled cigarettes. He offered her one and she took it gratefully before leaning forward so he could light it with what she thought was a slim lighter but turned out to be a flame on the tip of his finger. Exhaling a slow cloud, Nesta felt the familiar buzz from when she’d play cards long into the night, though it felt much stronger and less pleasant without the undercurrent of wine. But there was a small measure of satisfaction knowing the woman she was becoming would make her mother thrash in her grave.

“Well,” he said heavily through the smoke, one leg stretched out long and a rakish tilt to his mouth as he resigned himself to his fate. “What would you like to know?”

In a halting baritone, he told her of the natural progression of bonds, how males typically knew sooner, how both could be aware and feel its effects without the bond being fully accepted. How rare and blessed it was, that mates did not always love one another, but that most accepted in the end. The presentation of food, while not strictly necessary, was common.

The frost wanted to appear at her fingers but Nesta willed it down, breathed in the smell of smoke and tea leaves, felt the soft fabric of the chair arm beneath her palm and took in Lucien’s easy repose. He’d decided to play her game, it seemed, and even if she was using Elain’s influence over him to her own ends, Nesta couldn’t help but respect his candor.

“What changes when a bond is accepted?” Nesta interrupted when he took his next drag, and in response to his wary look, she added, “You can speak about sex, it’s fine.”

So he told her about the frenzy, the territorial spirals the males were prone to. Cigarette trembling between her fingers, Nesta listened with growing dis-ease to his details of the possessiveness, the destructiveness that often followed, of mates who tried to love another but couldn’t stay away.

She thought of the shop with the three golden keys on the sign, the risks some would take to break free from a mating bond. “What happens if a bond is rejected?”

“It is said to be a slow agony, a grief that haunts you all your days. But you’re free to love, as we all are. How often have hearts changed the course of fate?

Red light flashed in her mind, the eerie absence of the Cauldron’s pull in her gut above the battlefield, the rising dread threatening to drown her, the rising scream in her throat, her only thought his name over and over.

“Why are you really asking, my lady?”

Trying to slow her own clipping heart, Nesta met Lucien’s too-knowing stare. It still made her feel sickly, the whispers that followed in the wake of the war, that haunted her stuttering footsteps when she’d returned to Velaris alone. The instinct to hold information close, to form that barrier around herself was so tempting, but the male in front of her could understand the pain of overexposure, the need for discretion better than perhaps anyone else.

“I know Tamlin was.. Controlling as well, though they were not mated.” If what Feyre had told her was true, anyway, though she’d seen the Lord of Spring’s ferocity firsthand. “I’m trying to discern what is typical of fae males, what is influence of a bond, and what is cause for concern.”

“Do you fear for yourself?” Lucien’s face had turned grave, and the fire sparked up behind him suddenly, making her flinch.

“No, no.” Not in this way, anyhow. “I am concerned for Feyre,” she said at last, focusing on the most emergent need first.

So she told him about the pregnancy, Rhysand’s lies and antagonism, his controlling nature. She left out everything about the Trove, but Lucien seemed familiar enough with the High’s Lord’s reputation to extrapolate what kinds of lengths he’d go to for his loved ones. The Autumn lord’s cigarette flared bright and hot in tandem with his eyes, as if a barely suppressed anger smoldered under his skin.

“You have been a loyal friend to her, though at times I wonder why. I can’t imagine how this looks through your eyes.”

Lucien gave a humorless laugh. “Your concern for Ferye is well-placed, though I’m not sure what I have to offer.”

“She won’t hear the truth from me. I’ve failed her too many times.”

“How?”

“I’ve been prideful, selfish.” Nesta looked out at the street once more, where a father pushed a toddler in a pram, its fat fist grabbing at the flakes of snow now falling. “Let my anger rule me. Pushed her away.”

“So, you’ve been a sibling?”

Lucien’s smile was genuine if not a bit weary, and Nesta realized how little she still knew of him, this wayward male with the gentleman’s manners, who offered her cigarettes and spoke to her like an equal. It occurred to her that in another life she could’ve loved him, and the thought felt comforting somehow, that perhaps there were other versions of herself across the braids of time living in gentleness and peace, even as it made her want to fall over in his lap in tears.

But something in that untouched part of her rioted at the thought, knew her heart was already spoken for. Knew this Nesta couldn’t give up her teeth, not yet.

“Please speak with Feyre, if you’re willing,” she urged. “She is recruiting a High Council, and I would urge you to submit your name. She needs someone with experience on her side.”

“I shall consider it. I appreciate your confidence in this. Nesta,” he said as she rose from her chair, gathering her coat. “You should tell him if you have no intention of accepting the bond. Don’t drag it out or give him false hope.”

“Give hope to whom?”

Lucien chuckled again, warmer this time, that fire simmering. “Archerons,” He said with a chagrined look at the clouds dusting snow across her shoulders. “You’ll be the death of us all, I fear.”

[stillresolved]

( meta: languages. )

basically, all my muses are some form of bilingual and i've been thinking about this so here's a mini headcanon post regarding that:

annie: native speaker in english and korean although the latter, she was more shaky on until she did study abroad in seoul for medical school. she was also consistently learning spanish until the incident. these days, she thinks both in korean and english, like 50-50.

ga-ram: korean is his native language, but he can also speak English and Japanese– the latter he’s conversational, not fluent in though. Both, yohan encouraged him to take up as English is useful to know among foreigners and Japanese would give yohan access to connections in Japan… if he ends up with mara, he’ll probably start learning spanish too.

nell: english and code ( the language of ones and zeros). Technically she knows korean too as her online friend inspired her to learn korean…however since nell pushed herself to immerse herself in the language until recently, her speaking and listening comprehension is pretty bad…her reading of hangul, on the other hand is very good. myungdae and alfred have been giving her remedial korean classes to catch her up.

lamon: as a second-generation immigrant from thailand, English is his first language, but he grew up listening to his family speak thai…so while he speaks like a elementary schooler, his listening and comprehension skills are much better. when he’s older, he might actually try to learn the language, but in the meanwhile he’s currently struggling with spanish as many of his students and the parents speak it

aeri: your girl is fluent in korean, english, and french and learned those languages in that order. she wants to learn italian next as Milan is has been looking more and more attractive to move to these days–

ballister: in his modern verse, he grew up speaking urdu and then picked up English as teenager, which means his accent is a fun amalgamation of British and Pakistani…while now fluent in English, he does get self conscious about his accent ^^’

mana: speaks english and vietnamese with the southern dialect. Her reading skills in the latter isn’t nearly as good as her speaking and listening skills as she speaks vietnamese almost exclusively with her grandma and the elderly vietnamese people in her neighborhood. she refuses to speak vietnamese with someone using a northern dialect mostly bc that?? Does not sound like vietnamese to her 🥲

yoojin: korean is his first language and over the course of a thousand years, he’s picked multiple languages…although like with any skills, many of these languages he’s grown rather rusty with and the version he speaks may or maybe not be considered an antiquated version of the language 🥲 As of right now, he can speak korean, mandarin, cantonese, and english (conversationally)!! i have a feeling he does better with tonal languages in general.

[vivifriend]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @thequeenofthewinter and @bostoniangirl21. Thank you much.💖Tagging @rainpebble3 with zero pressure. 💖💖

A snippet from a Vilkas chapter again:

--------------------------------------------------

Copper wasn't in the inn that he could see, and he frowned looking around.

"Vilkas! Good to see you!"

He turned, giving Vorstag a friendly nod. "Have you seen an Imperial?" he asked. "Long brown hair, sabre cat scar here, Nord warpaint here. They were supposed to be here."

He clicked his tongue. "Moved on from casual?" he guessed, grinning when Vilkas flushed slightly. "Yeah, they stepped outside to talk to a rather pushy Altmer. Based on the scowl they gave him when his back was turned, they're planning to give him a tongue lashing."

Pushy Altmer? Thalmor? Shor's bones, I hope not. We don't need that complication. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said easily. "And hey, maybe your luck will rub off on me and I'll find something permanent myself."

"Good luck with that" he said, ducking back toward the door. You don't want my luck Vorstag. Frowning, he took a deep breath, casting about for Copper's scent, picking up traces and heading that way swiftly. Who is this Altmer? Why did you leave the inn with him? And why in Oblivion am I so nervous about this? I know you can handle yourself.

Rounding a corner, he slowed when he spotted Copper speaking quietly to an elegantly dressed, very lean Altmer with long auburn hair. His wolf spirit agitated in his chest and he grimaced, moving slowly forward. Something's not right about you. Why did Copper follow you out here?

"I do have to say your apparent closeness to Lewin was not something I was expecting. I am... intrigued. Though he certainly has good taste." He stepped back, looking them up and down, Vilkas gritting his teeth, striding closer.

The Altmer turned slightly and smiled. "Ah, perfect. You're here."

"Who are you?" he snarled.

"Lewin didn't tell you who I am?" he asked, resting a hand on his chest. "I'm hurt."

Copper slipped away from him, moving to Vilkas's side. "Vilkas. This is Seanwen," they said grimly. "He has yet to tell me what Sanguine wants," they added, smelling agitated.

Sanguine's son. Well, this explains why Lewin lost track of him. But why is he here?

"I was waiting for your werewolf," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "My father's closest ally begged him for a favor regarding you both."

"Vaermina doesn't beg," Copper said sharply.

He grinned. "I suppose she doesn't. But it sounds more amusing to suggest she did. Alright. Vaermina requested that my father give her a favor. And he wasn't going to turn down the opportunity to have her owe him something."

"What favor?" Vilkas demanded, glancing swiftly for exits.

Lifting a hand, Seanwen toyed with a playing card, tossing it into the air, watching it spin in place for a moment, a shimmering red light descending down from it. "My father taught me this trick," he said conversationally, giving Vilkas a knowing look. "It's a fun one. As to Vaermina's request, you two need to come visit the Myriad Realms for a mortal day or so. No great imposition, right?"

[sparrowhero]

Visit

A Dabi fic centered on characterization (with background Dabi x Reader) Canon Divergent Dabi. Heavy spoilers for this season and mentions of abuse (not perpetuated or done by Dabi) under the cut, so beware!

“What’s Dabi-kun doing?” Toga asks, lightly kicking her feet under the table at the bar. Once in a great while, like clockwork, Kurogiri opens a portal for him and he strides through in his nondescript hoodie without looking back. Kurogiri never answers, as it’s none of his business, and even he isn’t aware of the significance of Dabi’s occasional visit. Shigaraki doesn’t care whatever he does, so long as he gets results. Twice merely shrugs at the bar in front of an untouched beer that he ordered two hours ago.

“Who knows!” A pause. “Who cares!” It seems as though Dabi’s wall of secrecy has no cracks. Toga hums under her breath thoughtfully, but she knows better than to attempt to tag along– or at least, ask Kurogiri to send them to the same place. Knowing Dabi, he probably asks to be sent somewhere a good distance away from his destination and would do his damnedest to lose them even if they did try to tail him. She casts her eyes at you, fiddling with the jukebox that barely plays. You’re new to the League, but her intuition tells her that there’s something going on between you and Dabi.

“--Do you know anything?” Toga calls out your name in a friendly, lilting tone, both hands framing her face as she leans on the surface in your direction. You make an ‘I don’t know’ sound, something more like a grunt, as you smack the jukebox lightly. As much time as you’ve spent together in the short span of your admittance, it’s not as if Dabi is an open book…at least, to you. At least, not yet.

There’s one person out there who is, and it’s this person Dabi has snuck away to meet. He knows the way there by heart. Several ways, if one is to be honest, but this is the way he favors the most. It’s not a great distance to the hospital, and a benefit of money is that it’s secluded. Well-protected, yes, but due to a certain patron, the place where Dabi intends to sneak into has far fewer cameras. He has to time it correctly, waiting a few hours until it’s well into the early morning hours, but it’s no ordeal to duck underneath the sight of a few lax security guards in order to hop a fence into the psychiatric ward. The lush grass gives under his boots with the quiet crinkling of dew. Sunrise is still a couple of hours away, but he’ll be finished with his business by then. Dabi utilizes the carefully measured steps of a cat to creep underneath the window with a single, blue flower at the sil.

He peers in carefully, and to his relief– it’s always relief– when he spies his mother sleeping peacefully on her cot. Time has added wrinkles he doesn’t remember to the corners of her eyes and mouth, but the silvery hair splayed on the pillow undoubtedly belongs to her. His lips quirk up in just the slightest smile as weak and flickering as a flame in the wind that disappears just as fast when he remembers the circumstances that brought her to this. Dabi leans against the wall and slides to his seat. One arm slung over his bent knee, the other used to keep himself seated comfortably on the wet grass.

Dabi doesn’t usually talk to her. It’s usually enough to see her alive and (somewhat) well. She looks better than usual, for some reason. There’s more color to her cheeks, even if it’s only what’s barely visible from the moonlight. Every so often, on a night like tonight, he decides to speak to her through her sleep in a soft voice just barely above a whisper. His ears are keen, he knows when the orderlies are coming and when to keep quiet.

“You look good, Mom.” He starts off conversationally. “Not sure why…but it’s a nice change.” It’s a little strange, shifting from ‘Dabi’ to ‘Touya.’ He’s not quite sure which one he is now, what with everything he’s gone through. He identifies more with ‘Dabi’, but he can see the aspects of ‘Touya’ that remain in him. Is he both? It’s a question that will dance in his head for some time to come. It took him years to forgive her, and even more to decide to visit her.

He was only thirteen when ‘Touya’ died and ‘Dabi’ was born. There are times when he’s angry at her, when he hates her for what she was too weak to protect him from…but he’s realized that it’s futile to blame her for what hero society allows to be swept under the rug. Where could she have gone, with that bastard’s money and influence? Even if Hell froze over and he allowed such a stain on his reputation, the HPSC would never permit the besmirching of the number two hero. She’d have been slandered to hell and back, with him being praised as the epitome of a hero and father figure, and they would have been stuck with him either way.

It’s not like if she spoke up for Touya that it would make him see his true potential, make him care about anything other than himself. He hates to admit it, but she was an easy target to push blame onto. Easier than a man so much bigger and stronger and angrier, who represented a rot that ran rampant.

He tells her a vague description of what he’s been up to. It doesn’t matter if it’s the truth or not when the person in question is asleep. It’s mostly the truth, anyway. That he’s doing well. That he’s (sort of) made some new friends. That things are going to change soon for the better.

“Shouto’s gotten bigger.” Dabi remarks absently. He wonders what the other siblings are doing, but they don’t have the kind of media attention that Endeavor’s golden child has. “He looks a lot like me.”

The phrase has two meanings, each complicatedly intertwined. He doesn’t know the reason behind his scar, though he can hazard a few guesses that it has something to do with why Rei has been effectively hidden from the world, and why Shouto has that same deep, piercing air of coldness that can’t be hidden even by the camera. He can’t truly say that he loves him, since he’s never gotten to know him and what little he remembers is tainted by hostility and envy.. It’s a complicated emotion. He does, however, regret trying to kill him, he really does. It’s not something that can ever be made up for; he simply realized too late that he was never the enemy. Maybe now it will be Shouto’s turn to realize that they’ve always shared the same enemy?

It’s worth a shot. Shigaraki wants to try and recruit that angry kid from the sports festival. It shouldn’t be a great amount of trouble to do the same for him. Two brothers, the reject and the heir, standing together against him…It’d be quite the sight. Dabi wants to take everything from him: his misguided hopes of raising a proxy to defeat All Might, his image as a hero, and the very position he’s sacrificed everything for. Himself, his siblings, and his mother included.

He checks his watch. It’s just about the time he agreed to have Kurogiri warp him back.

“Bye, Mom. See you soon.” He promises, and disappears into the night just as the watch at front switches.

You’re hunched over the bar asleep by the time he gets back. Were you waiting for him? That’s cute. Dabi pulls down the high collar of his jacket enough to whisper in your ear.

“Boo.”

You jolt up and nearly smack him out of reflex, but he evades it with ease. It’s not like you were actually trying to hurt him anyways, since you recognize him almost immediately after your fist flies out..

“You scared the shit out of me!” You accuse breathlessly, one hand over your heart.

“Don’t get caught lacking.” Dabi airily replies, absolving himself from any blame. He pulls out one of the stools of the bar and sits next to you. He leans his chin on his hand, staring at you curiously. “Miss me that much?” He teases.

“I wasn’t particularly waiting for you.” You reply evasively, and he raises a skeptical eyebrow. “…I was maybe a little curious as to what you were up to.” You finally answer, looking away.

He laughs. “Business.” A short and vague answer as always. “I’m a little curious as well.” Dabi grabs you by your head and turns you around to face him. It’s not a rough action, even if it is a little bit rude, and you could shove his hand away if you didn’t like it. You never do.

“What do you do if someone ruins your life? And the lives of people you love? And just walks away scott-free?” He asks conversationally. Dabi doesn’t know what you’re going to answer: maybe you’re going to say some pansy shit about learning to forgive or that karma will get them eventually. He doesn’t know you well enough to know your belief system or what’s brought you to the league.

You hesitate, and the look in your eyes makes it evident that you think this is some sort of trick question. He isn’t going to let you go without an answer, and eventually, you shrug.

“…Fuck ‘em up?? Obviously??”

Dabi blinks at your unexpected simple honesty, and then he laughs– it’s more of a barking sound than anything, and he leans in so close your foreheads touch. His eyes lock with yours, fiery with a burning intensity.

“You know what? I knew I liked you for a reason.” He finally releases you, and pats your cheek twice, ignoring how the statement probably sets your heart beating about a mile a minute. “I’m going to sleep…unless you want to check in on me for that too?” Dabi asks mockingly from the entrance to the upstairs.

The exasperation on your expression earns you another laugh. Dabi walks into the only other spare bedroom in the building and thinks to himself that next time, maybe he’ll talk a little bit about you.

You’re a lot of fun.

–

Rei is smiling during Shouto’s weekly visit. She’s happy and alert, and has been clearly anticipating his arrival. The young man notices her bright demeanor immediately as he takes his seat across from her. “You look happy.” He notes in surprise as well as satisfaction. During the short time he’s been making visits, he’s learned that some days are better than others, but today is a pleasant surprise. She looks a little bit more like the mother he had all those years ago. She gratefully accepts the flowers he’s brought her and some of the food Fuyumi made for them to share during their visit.

Rei nods affirmatively, hands folded together across her lap. She has a motherly, fond smile on her face– and tears bud at the corners of her gray eyes. Her eyes are far away as she gazes out the window, recalling the soft tones that were both familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time.

“I just had the most wonderful dream this morning.”

[ageless-soul-au]

got a curious question about the heroes— what languages can they speak? or understand in case they can't speak it for whatever reason?

Most of them just speak Hylian and Hylian Sign (bc sign language is considered a different language bc it has different structure and grammar even tho we don't write it out like that) but here are the heroes that we know are at least a little multi lingual.

Legend could call himself a fucking polymath at this point. He knows Hylian and Hylian Sign fluently ofc, and can read/write Lorulean since it's the same as Hylian, just mirrored. He can read Mudoran but isn't sure about the pronunciation since it's a dead language in his time, and is at least conversational in Holodruman, Labrynnan, and Subrosian. He's very interested in learning Gerudo currently, so that might be another one added to the list eventually.

Cinder knows Lorulean fluently since he's from there (written Hylian was the real challenge for him but he got it).

Time knows some Gerudo and Gerudo Sign, probably just conversationally, but he's illiterate so he can't read or write anything.

Four knows Picori fluently bc of the jabber fruit.

Hyrule is fluent in Fey, though they shouldn't speak it around normal people if they want those individuals to stay sane.

Fae probably knows some Fey as well, just what she needed to for getting through her quest.

Twilight knows how to read Twili, and Midna has tried to teach him some, but he has trouble getting around his accent for pronunciation.

Wild knows Sheikah, both ancient and modern, and would like to know the Zora/Rito mother tongue but it's p much impossible for them to produce or even decipher what all those clicks and whistles mean. Sidon appreciates his little Hylian's desire to connect but it just won't happen and he thinks them trying (and failing horrifically) is very cute.

Odyssey is fluent in Gerudo! And he's probably trying very hard to learn Gerudo Sign, but not quite fluent in it yet. He can talk to his boyfriend in his native tongue and that's good enough for now. (And on that note, Legacy probably knows both Sheikah and Gerudo.)

Champion probably knows at least some sign for all the major races just in case. He takes his guard job very seriously, and being nonverbal needs some workarounds in case not everyone knows Hylian Sign. He doesn't wanna end up playing charades.

Wind probably has picked up some Rito birdcalls, both bc he's friends w Medli and Komali, and having an alternative to pirate code with Tetra can be useful. Nothing like. Truly substantial tho.

Sky has maybe like. Some Lanayru mining robot translations lying around in a book somewhere in case he needs it.

Wars knows bits and pieces of a certain language his mother used, doesn't think very much about it. He should maybe talk to Legend....

And that's about it! TLDR most of them know at least snippets of another language according to need.

-Kio & Mizu

[helenaheissner]

Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 17

Hello, lovelies! Hope y'all are doing well :)

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And now, back to our regularly scheduled nerdy romcom shenanigans!

***

Zeke

4 Years Ago

“Hey there,” I said as I walked through the Lair, our school’s main cafeteria, renowned for its aggressively mediocre food. It  was a wide room divided into two halves, and overlooked an admittedly gorgeous lawn leading to the big white chapel that was on all of our brochures. The lighting was dim in the late evening hours- the cafeteria was closing in less than an hour, but I’d been so busy at the library trying to get caught up on everything that I’d barely even looked at the time. And then my stomach growled and I realized I hadn’t eaten in almost twelve hours, at which point I braved the thousand yard trek from the library to the Lair. I’d managed to acquire a club sandwich for myself and searched far and wide across the cafeteria in search of someone, anyone, I even remotely knew, anything to say I was at least making some goddamn friends finally. I traversed all the way to the far end, overlooking the law, where, atop a pleather seat in a booth eating a caesar salad, I found someone. “It’s Watanabe, right? Don’t we have two classes together?”

The rumpled, exhausted looking boy with the shaggy black hair falling around his face looked up from his salad and his phone and made eye contact with me, seeming legitimately startled that anyone was talking to him. “Oh, uh, yeah, I think so. But, I… Uh, I don’t think I remember your name?”

“Zeke Underhill,” I smiled. “Mind if I sit? This place looks haunted at night, figured it’s better to have strength in numbers.”

He laughed weakly. “Yeah, I suppose so. Uh, go ahead and sit. I don’t know if I’m that great of company, though.”

“I mean you’re here, aren’t you?” I said. “That’s all that’s required.”

“Yeah, but I meant, like, conversationally.” “We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”

He gave another weak laugh, filtered through a snort. “Yeah, I guess. Anything else you wanna talk about?” 

“You ready for Professor Eddington’s test next week?”

“We have a test? Already?” Watanabe leaned forward, panic encroaching on his acne-marked face. 

“Yeah, he announced it yesterday,” I said. 

“Shit.”

“You were there yesterday- I saw you,” I pointed out.

“I… Was distracted.”

“By what?”

He did a conspiratorial double-take, then pulled up an image on his phone and slid it over to me. “I call her Dai Gurren.”

“Oh, awesome!” I said. “Like from Gurren Lagan?”

“Yeah! You a fan?”

“Huge- love anime. Giant robots for days,” I said. 

“Awesome!” he said. “What are your favorites?”

“Uh, Gundam, especially SEED and IBO. Raxephon, Mazinger Z, IGPX-”

“I! G! P! X!” he said, fist pumping at each letter. It was certainly something- he’d practically come alive once we’d both started speaking the shared language of nerd. We wound up talking for a while after that, and he invited me to hang out in his dorm’s common room with him the next night to watch Planet With. So, I headed over there at 8 PM, into a beige room with a collection of couches and desks and a plasma screen television adorning the far wall. 

A girl was there with him, short and black with great hair and huge… Tracts of land. 

“Zeke, this is my girlfriend, Olivia,” he said. “Olivia, this is Zeke, from our class with Eddington.”

“Nice to meet you,” Olivia said, half-heartedly offering a handshake. 

I picked up on a disappointed vibe from her before even making hand-contact. “You too. Hey, uh, if you guys wanna have a date night, I can scram-”

“No, it’s fine,” Watanabe said. 

I noted the frustrated look on Olivia’s face right away. “Aaaare you sure, Watanbe?”

“Please, call me Frank,” he said. “And yeah, it’s fine. Olivia and I wanted to ask you something, anyway.”

“We did?” Olivia said. 

“Yeah, we did,” Frank furrowed his brow. “But not till later. For now, let’s watch this weird freaking show!”

And so we did, though after an episode, Olivia and Frank started making out right next to me. I tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the tv, but then it kept going the entirety of the second episode. 

“I’ll see myself out,” I said, getting up from the uncomfortable couch and heading for the door. 

Frank pulled himself off of his girlfriend for five seconds and managed to grab me by the back of my shirt. “Wait! WAIT! Not yet!” 

 I rolled my eyes and gave a mild exhale. “What’s up?”

“Still need to ask you something!”

“Then fire away,” I said, struggling not to laugh.

“Do you wanna join our robotics team?” he asked. “I want at least three of us for it, and based on our conversation yesterday, I’d say you really know your stuff.”

I turned around and looked at Frank, all pleading and hopeful and earnest and enthusiastic, while also noting Olivia’s face- annoyed, frustrated, but some of that was seemingly aimed at herself more than at me. 

“Sure,” I said. I mean what the hell, it would be the closest thing I had to a social life. What was the worst that could happen?

***

NOW

Kate stood on her tip toes as she kissed me goodnight under the lamppost on the corner of my street, her lips wet and slick from her lipstick, her tongue entering my mouth as mine entered hers, her hands on my chest as mine squeezed her butt. She giggled, and gave me one more peck on the cheek. “You have a good night, Mr. Underhill?”

“I had a great night, Ms. Calloway,” I said, drinking in the cherry-blossom scent of her perfume. “Sure I can’t convince you to come up for a night-cap?”

“My heart says yes, my brain and body say I’m exhausted after tonight,” she said. “Say hi to Faith for me, though. Let’s all hang out again this week, yeah?”

“Definitely,” I said. 

She turned around and started to scamper off, but then pivoted around and ran back to me and kissed me one more time. I stood there, stunned as she ran off again, but I smiled anyway. ‘Hate to see her leave, love to watch her walk away’ as she herself admitted she’d once thought about me. 

I ambled up to my apartment, the witching hour long since past, whistling ‘Feel Good Inc’ under my breath as I turned on the hallway light and took off my leather jacket. Kate and I had gotten In ‘N’ Out and eaten our burgers together in the back of her truck while parked on top of a cliff in the Hollywood Hills. We looked out into the city and just… Talked. About us. About the tournament. About Kate’s whole ‘image makeover’ plan. I’d never been great at the self-promotion stuff, but she seemed to be taking to it relatively well. 

And then, you know… We made out a bunch. Started getting a little frisky but stopped short of outright fooling around. We weren’t there yet, and Kate admitted she wasn’t sure if she was totally comfortable exploring her body like that at the moment. At least not until she was further along in her transition. Still, it wasn’t an absolute, and she’d even said if there was anyone she’d wanted to explore it with

I jumped when I saw Faith laying on the couch, staring up at her phone while All My Children played on mute from the tv screen. A handle of vodka sat on the coffee-table, significantly reduced in contents compared to when I’d last laid eyes on it. “Hey,” I said, walking over to the couch. “You okay?”

“No,” she said. “I’m drinking alone- does that sound okay to you?”

“It definitely doesn’t,” I said, sitting on the floor in front of the couch, pushing aside the table to make some room for me in this equation. “What’s going on? Who are you texting?”

“I’m not texting anyone,” Faith said, rolling onto her side and facing me. “I’m contemplating texting Olivia.”

“Oh?” I said, swatting her hand away when she tried to reach for the vodka. “What are you contemplating texting her?”

She looked at me with a tortured expression. “Please don’t make me say it.”

“Okay, I won’t make you say it. But if you don’t, then I can’t help talk you down from this proverbial ledge, girl,” I said. 

She pouted. Which was in no way cute, definitely not, I definitely wasn’t still thinking that about her. Not in the slightest. “I miss her.”

My jaw dropped, and I blinked. Hard. “What?”

“I… She… I miss her.”

“You… Miss her. After what she did to you, you miss her?”

“She apologized,” Faith said weakly. 

“After what she did to Kate, you miss her?”

“Kate started it,” Faith said with a wave of her hand.

My eyes narrowed. 

“Okay, that’s not a great line of internal logic, I know,” she said, sitting up and crossing her legs. “But like… Kate did provoke her.”

“What are you gonna say next? That you provoked Olivia into cussing you out when you-”

“Don’t go there, Zeke,” Faith snapped. “And don’t… Don’t make that comparison, please.”

“Okay, but can you please consider this from my perspective for a moment?” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Olivia has now been weird and hostile about two trans girls coming out to her- one is my best friend, the other is my girlfriend.”

Her eyes, previously fixed on our rotating ceiling fan, shot towards me. “Girlfriend?”

“Y-yeah,” I said, flinching at her intensity. “We’re… Uh, well, we’re putting labels on it now.”

“How long has that been a thing?”

“About,” I started, then checked the clock on the homescreen of my phone, “Five hours?”

“I see.”

“What?” I asked. 

“... Nothing.”

“Don’t do that, Faith,” I said, “If you’ve something to say, please just say it.”

“...”

“Faith.”

“...”

“Faith!” I said. No, no, stop getting angry with her- she’s drunk, you’ve dealt with drunk people plenty of times without losing your temper. She’s drunk and she’s lovesick and she’s dealing with the uncomfortable truth that someone she loved might not exactly be the best person ever. 

Then again, it wasn’t like I was in any way unbiased where Olivia Root was concerned. 

I inhaled and exhaled through my nose, letting the fresh air filter up into my brain and clear out all the junk. “Actually, it’s okay. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through with all this, you don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to tell me.”

“But I do wanna tell you, I just… Can’t,” she said, looking down at me, hair framing her face beautifully, freshly-shaven legs stretched across the couch… 

NO, NO, BAD! I thought instantly. You have a girlfriend. Do not check out Faith like that. You are not gonna be like Dad. “Okay,” I said, “If you can’t, then you can’t. Just please, please don’t text Olivia the ‘I miss you’ text- I’m really worried about what’s down that road.”

She nodded sagely… And then hiccuped. I suppressed a chuckle

She failed to suppress hers, which I didn’t not think was cute. She’s. Just. A. Friend. I repeated the mantra in my mind over and over again. 

“How was your date?” she asked. 

“Really nice,” I said.

She winced. I squinted. Was she… Okay, no, no, no, no. Don’t read into that. Just don’t. Nothing good down that road either. 

“Kate really is something, isn’t she?” Faith asked. 

“Yeah,” I smiled, the image flickering in my mind of her on my lap in the back of that truck, the city below us and the stars above, all the time and opportunity in the world. I felt like I could be whoever I wanted to be when I was around her, and I knew she felt the same about me. “I’m… I’m glad you two have become friends.”

She gave a smile I couldn’t help but think looked a bit bitter, and said, “I am too.”

That was when both of our phones went off. We checked them, and I saw an alert from the robot fighting tournament committee. Next week’s fights had been announced. Faith and I’s next fight had been announced. 

“Oh, crap,” we both said at the same time. 

***

9 Months Ago

“Hey, uh, Zeke?” 

“What’s up, Faithy?” I said, sitting at the kitchen table and eating a plate of turkey sausage and scrambled eggs while scrolling through some onboarding documents on my laptop that I had to read for a temp job that started tomorrow. Help getting a new type of passenger plane ready- they needed extra workers for a few months, but there was no chance of it leading to anything full-time. Perfect, as far as I was concerned. 

Faith was having a bit more trouble finding temp jobs since she started her transition a few months back- nobody said out loud they didn’t wanna hire her because she was trans, but it was hard for her- or me, for that matter- to take it any other way when she was a bloody genius engineer and yet they kept hiring other folks from our graduating class who I knew weren’t as smart as her. 

Such as me, for example. 

“Will you take me bra shopping?” she asked. She stood in the doorway to her room, wearing a baggy black and gold West Point football jersey over her long red skirt. Interesting fashion choice in the middle of the last gasp of the baking summer heat. 

I nearly spat out my black coffee. “Um… Yes?”

“Really? You mean it? I don’t wanna inconvenience you-”

“I’m just a little confused as to why you want me to go with you. Did you suddenly forget how to drive?”

“No, it’s not that,” Faith said. “I just… Look, my breasts are budding and my nipples are all poking through my tops, but I don’t really pass yet, so I’m kinda scared to go bra shopping alone, okay?”

I tilted my head, looking at the five-foot-three-inch girl with the perfect hair and the perfect makeup, and sincerely wondered how anyone could see anything other than a young woman. “Alright, sure. Just gimme a few minutes.”

“Are you sure- I know you’ve gotta read and sign all that stuff by tomorrow-”

“It can wait a few hours,” I said, closing my laptop and standing up. 

As I made my way for my bedroom to put my computer away, Faith asked, “Can I hug you?”

She’d been asking that a lot, lately. “You know you don’t always have to ask, right?”

“Yeah, but, I… I don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable,” she said, looking at her feet as they traced the surface of the floor. 

I smiled gently. “You could never make me uncomfortable, Faith.”

“I did that one time, when Olivia and I kept making out right next to you-”

“Yeah, but that’s her fault for being a jackass,” I said. 

Faith glared at me. 

“Sorry,” I said, “Forgot I wasn’t supposed to do that.”

I stepped around her, but then she grabbed a fistful of the back of my shirt again. I chuckled, then turned around and hugged her. 

And then I felt something, two somethings, poking my chest. 

My eyes bulged. “Uh, Faith-”

Her eyes did the same, and she leapt off of me. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I said, laughing nervously, scratching the back of my head. 

Silence, so awkward it belonged in an episode of The Office, sat over the room. 

Finally, Faith broke it: “Well, uh, do you get the point now?”

My mouth curved up into a smile. 

“Or do you need another poke?” she said, looking ready to mug for the proverbial camera. 

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Just the tips, right?” she said.

And I laughed, waaaaayyy harder than I should have at puns that stupid. And she giggled at her own joke, swaying back and forth as she stood there, light from the window scattering around her hair like a brilliant halo, framing her in all her awkward, ridiculous, degenerate, glory. And I saw her. I saw HER. And she was the same person I’d met all those years ago, but everything that had always been good about her- her heart, her humor, her sincerity- had all been amplified twenty fold and was now wrapped up in a very pretty package. 

A shot of emotion, hot and fierce and downright ravenous, went through my heart and pumped through the rest of my body. Yearning, desire, attraction, all slamming into me like a violent tide. 

Oh, crap, I thought.

***

Present Day

The names ‘George Gregson’ and ‘Pendulum’ loomed large in the robotics community. Winning five championships and only having four total losses in the professional circuit to your name over a decade-spanning career tended to have that effect. Faith and I had been lucky enough to not have to face him at all our freshman season, and that he’d been knocked out of the championships due to mechanical failure in the semi-finals. 

Yes, that’s right- Kate had beaten the guy. On a technicality- his engine just overheated and shorted out within ten seconds of the match starting. Kate hadn’t landed a single blow against the guy before experiencing victory by default, something even she admitted was pretty hollow. But it was also the only reason she’d gotten to the finals. Which was probably the only reason Faith and I had won last year, because I was convinced we would lose to Pendulum in a fair fight. Olivia and Faith had a similar opinion on our prospects against Gregson last season. 

And given Gregson already had a 3-0 record and was basically guaranteed a spot in the championship bracket, I saw no reason for this season to be any different. 

Faith and I stood in our rented garage in Culver City, looking at Dai Gurren, wondering what, precisely, the hell we were going to do.

“This is bad, Zeke,” Faith said. 

“I know it’s bad, Faithy,” I replied. 

“Please don’t call me that anymore,” she said, somewhat curtly. 

I blinked. “Ooookay,” I said, hoping the bite wasn’t too obvious in my voice. 

If it was, she didn’t notice, or at least pretended not to. “We need to win both of our remaining fights if we want a spot in the championship.”

“I am aware of this,” I said, breaking the power tools out of their plastic containers. Drills. Lots of drills. Appropriately enough. “So, Ms. Chief Engineer/Team Captain: how do we approach this?”

Faith took out a drill and pulled on a pair of safety goggles. “We work with what we’ve got. Also, text Kate the address and tell her to meet us here. I have an idea.”

I fired off the text, and then Faith and I started disassembling the front of Dai Gurren and removing the maw of six small drills. We replaced them with much larger, thicker drills, all made of titanium and sharp enough to puncture sheet iron. And which, hopefully, would stand up to Pendulum’s swing of death a bit better. 

Pendulum was the type of unconventional bot that worked primarily through raw power. It was tall and cylindrical, painted jet black and made of carbon steel. Down the middle was a hammer that was normally nestled safely inside a slot, held in place by a magnet, but a flip of Gregson’s control panel caused the magnet to turn over to a reversed charge magnet that repelled the metal hammer with a terrifying concussive impact. I’d seen it undercut bots and tear their faceplates off, shatter weapons and crush wheels and brutalize engines. It was perfectly designed to destroy flippers and spinners, and most drills and other melee weapons weren’t safe to use in a direct assault. You had to come at Pendulum from an angle, stay out of its range. That was its only real weakness- the angle of its attack was limited to what was right in front of it. 

Which would be less of a problem if Gregson weren’t also a ridiculously good driver. So good, the only driver I could imagine having even a fraction of a chance against him was… 

Entering the garage right that moment, wearing ripped jeans and a purple tank top, her hair tied back and her face sans-makeup. “Hello there!”

I smiled. “General K-”

“We don’t have time,” Faith said. “Hey, Kate. Did you bring the stuff?”

“Poly’s in my truck,” she said, hitching her thumb back and pointing to the parking lot outside. “I’m not crazy about incurring a bunch of damage outside the box though.”

“Then it’s a good thing this will be a no-contact match,” Faith said. “We just need to work on our driving.” She pointed at me without making eye contact. “We both do.”

Okay, this was getting a little ridiculous. But now probably wasn’t the time or the place, so I let it slide. 

We cleared out the workstation, swept the floor clean, and put the bots on the ground: Polyphemus, Dai Gurren, and Gurren, our minibot. It was barely the size of Faith’s handbag, with a single drill protruding from the front. But we would need every weapon in our arsenal if we had a snowball’s chance in hell on this one. 

“Ready?” Kate asked from the other side of our garage. 

“Ready,” Faith said. 

“Ready,” I said, not feeling at all ready. This, a match against Kate, felt… Wrong. Even a training match, a glorified game of two-hand-touch football, felt distinctly off when fought against my girlfriend. 

Which could pose a serious problem going forward. 

Polyphemus’ ax was still attached, meaning it was moving slower than it would normally. Which was good- Pendulum’s slow and steady speed was one thing we could plan for. Even still, Kate hurdled towards us, dividing our two bots down the middle and pivoting left very suddenly to aim for DG. Faith went on the retreat, letting Poly chase DG in circles before suddenly changing direction while I went after Kate from behind. 

That was when Kate shot left again and went on the retreat; Poly slid over to my feet and skidded into a sharp turn as both DG and regular G were giving chase. 

I flanked wide and went around the room counterclockwise, going towards Poly at its center before banking right and connecting, very lightly, with its wheel. Faith did the same with its other side. 

“You got me!” Kate said. “Great job!”

“Thanks!” I smiled. 

“It’s not good enough,” Faith said. 

“Huh?” I said. 

“We need to be on the offensive the entire time, both of us. Gregson is relentless- he will not give us the chance to get our bearings. Let’s go again.”

And because she was, objectively speaking, correct, I nodded, and we went again. 

Kate didn’t make it easy on us, forcing us to scramble for enough ground to try and attack her from the sides, but after a few minutes we managed it. 

But it wasn’t good enough for Faith, so we went again. 

And again. 

And again, and again, and again, a few more times after that, until we all ran out of fuel. 

“Okay, I think we’re done for the day,” I finally said. 

“What are you talking about?” Faith said. 

“We can’t expend any more of our fuel budget if we wanna be able to comp Katie for helping us today,” I said. “Which you agreed to do- in fact, you suggested it.”

“That… Okay, yeah, fair enough,” Faith said. 

“Good fight, y’all,” Kate said, walking over and taking her goggles off, then taking mine off of my face and poking my nose playfully. “Boop.” 

I smiled, and probably looked like a huge dork. 

Kate went to do the same with Faith, but swatted her hand away. 

“Sorry,” Kate said. 

“You really need to work on not touching people all the time without warning!” Faith said with a nasty grimace and a clenched jaw. 

Kate’s eyes dropped. “Sorry.”

My eyes narrowed. “Little hostile there, Faithy, don’t you think?”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that!” she snapped. 

I balked, then raised a finger and took a step forward. “What is going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what aren’t you telling me?” I said. “Because it’s clearly something- you’ve said as much.”

“I also said I didn’t wanna tell you.”

“And that’s fair. But what isn’t fair is you taking out your frustration over that fact on me and especially on my girlfriend!”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Kate said, holding up both hands and offering a conciliatory smile. 

“Like hell it isn’t- you came all the way over here to help us, your competition, do better in a fight, in spite of the risks to your bot and having to take time away from your own stuff to do this,” I said, “And Faith rewards you by acting like a drill sergeant and then hissing at you!”

“Oh for- don’t do that! Don’t use your girlfriend like a talking point in your argument. Your problem is with me, don’t make it about how she and I are trying to establish boundaries!” Faith said. 

“You both know I’m standing right here, yeah?” Kate said flatly. 

“Yes!” Faith and I both shouted. 

Kate stared at us… Actually, glared is probably the better word. “I can’t believe I’m the rational one in this room right now. That literally never happens.”

I winced. “You’re right, I’m sorry-”

“It’s fine,” she said, “This isn’t actually about me. You both think it is, but it’s really not.”

“Kate,” Faith whined. 

“What does that mean?” I asked. Oh no. Oh no no no. 

“It means-”

“Don’t!” Faith snapped again. “It is not your place to tell him that!”

“Tell me what?!” I shouted. Please, say it ain’t so. 

Kate breathed in through her nose slowly, then out through her mouth with equal speed and purpose. “Tell you guys what- I’m gonna run to the gas station on the corner, get us all some sodas. And while I’m gone, you two can hash this out.”

“Please don’t,” Faith said. 

“Watanabe, seriously, it’s time to face the truth,” Kate said. “It really will set you free.”

She turned on her heel and left before either Faith or I could stop her. 

Leaving the two of us there with nothing but the proverbial elephant in the room. Dread gnawed at my stomach lining like mud wasps digging into my flesh. It couldn’t be what I thought it was. There was no way. 

But it would explain… Well, a lot of stuff, honestly. 

I took off my work gloves and heaved a sigh. “So…”

“So?”

“So.”

“Yeah,” Faith said. 

“Yeah what?”

“I…”

I closed my eyes. “Faith. We have the fight of our lives coming up on Friday, and we need to be a functional team when that happens. If you’re just stressed about that, then that’s fine, I’ll accept it. But I need you to talk to me.”

“I… Can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both?”

“Faith.” There was no other explanation. Nothing else made sense. But if she didn’t say it… It would keep eating away at her. But I still had no right to force her to say anything. “Maybe I should just go home, let you cool off.”

I started towards the exit, then felt a tug on the back of my shirt. 

I turned my head, and saw her clinging to me, face scrunched up, tears falling out her eyes. “Wait.”

So I waited. 

“I like you, Zeke,” Faith said, half a whisper and half a scream. “I like you a lot, and I have for a long time. Since… Before I was even living as the real me. You’ve always been there for me, propping me up when I just wanted to fall down, and… I can’t picture myself without you. I like you.”

My back went stiff, and I didn’t turn around. I… It just… Hearing that, from her, after all this time… It sent a hundred million different thoughts pinballing inside my brain simultaneously. The first one was an instinct, to turn around and kiss her, to sweep her off her feet and make violent love to her on the floor. 

The next one, far louder, far angrier, was ‘I won’t be like Dad.’

“Why… Why did you wait so long?” I asked, still not facing her. 

“I was scared,” she said, still not letting me go. 

“Scared of what?”

“That you wouldn’t like me back. That I’d ruin things between us. That you’d reject me like Olivia did and then I’d… Then I’d be all alone.”

The words screamed inside my mind: I could never reject you. I could never let you be all alone. They were followed by the words, You only ruined things by waiting until now to tell me. 

I gulped as I thought that, disgust coagulating inside my core. What is wrong with me- she’s pouring her heart out to me, and I need to say something. Anything. 

“Do you hate me?” Faith asked. 

“I could never hate you,” I said, and it was the truth. “You’re my best freaking friend.”

“And that’s all?” she asked. 

“I… I don’t know what to say to that,” I said. “I’m with Kate- you know I’m-”

“I know. And she’s… She’s a gem. I was wrong about her. The fact that she’s okay with me having this conversation alone with her boyfriend is… It says a lot, I think. Especially about how trusting she is.”

“I agree. So you can see why it’s important that neither of us betray that trust,” I said evenly. Finally, slowly, I turned around.

I regretted it immediately upon seeing the tears flooding out of her. Faith said, “You’re right. And I don’t wanna hurt her like…”

I knitted my eyebrows together. “Like?”

“Like Olivia did with me. I don’t… I don’t wanna hurt either of you, and I feel like the longer I stay here, the longer I do this, the more likely it will become that I do.”

I reached for her shoulders. “That’s not gonna happen.”

She pulled away, stepped out of my reach, and said, with the guiltiest voice I’d ever heard, “It already has. You don’t even know that you’re crying too, do you?”

“W-what?” I reached for my eyes and found the water leaking out. 

“This was a mistake,” she said, taking a few more steps back. “I’m a damn coward and this was all a mistake. I- I’m sorry, Zeke. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you all this, and I’m sorry for putting you in this position. I know how much you don’t… Don’t wanna be like your dad. This isn’t fair to you. Or her. Or anyone.”

She started for the back exit, and I started after her. I reached for her. 

She pivoted and swatted my hand away. “Don’t follow me. Please just… I need to be alone right now. Go to Kate, Zeke. Go be with your girlfriend. You deserve someone like her.”

She ran out, and left me there, too stunned to say anything or move. By the time I regained my senses and chased her out into the parking lot, she’d already gotten in our car and started driving away. 

“Um… What just happened?” Kate said.

I jumped, turned around, and saw her walking up behind me with a can of soda in one hand and a plastic convenience store bag in t’other one. 

She hugged me without asking- she didn’t need to anymore. And right then… I needed it. I just needed it. “I messed up.”

She held me close and tight, and we stood there a while under the harsh light of day.

[lavender-laudanum]

Dragon Age Ficlet #2: Dorian V Geth

“Come here often?”

Dorian jolted and looked over his shoulder, surprised at the heavily scarred but warm hand that had suddenly appeared on his, stopping him from picking up his drink again. He turned in time to be eye-to-eye with none other than Geth Trevelyan, the Lord Inquisitor himself. The look on Geth’s face is kind, with a small, soft lopsided smile that gentled the normally fierce edges of his austere features and sharp, silvery azure eyes - a lowering of his guard that he normally only reserved for safe, quiet moments.

Interestingly enough, most of those moments happened to be when he was with Dorian.

“I thought you were in an emergency meeting? Something about Samson?" Dorian asked him, as Geth released him and sat down next to him in the corner of the tavern, accepting the usual offer of steaming green tea and a few lavender-lemon iced shortbread cookies from the attentive innkeeper, who kept them fresh daily specifically for the Lord Inquisitor - who, as far as Dorian could tell, didn't drink alcohol, or anything else aside from water and tea, at all.

“The issue isn’t going to be solved in one night, unfortunately, much like a lot of things,” Geth answered lightly, conversationally, putting a hand around his mug - probably to just feel its heat, smart enough not to immediately take a sip, as he sat back, “Besides, I don’t want to argue in circles. They can do that on their own.”

“I saw how quickly you shut them down at Haven,” Dorian nodded, approvingly, “They can be like hens, your Advisors, can’t they?”

“I liken them to cats, myself; all claws and teeth, distrustful and distant - until you get to know them, at least,” Geth smiles that crooked little smile again, eyes alight, “Though, with that feathered monstrosity Cullen wears, I see where 'hen' comes from.”

The unexpected humor started a sharp, loud laugh out of Dorian.

“You don’t like it?!”

“It is so damn obnoxious - and with that silly lion helmet he wears?” Geth grinned, pleased at the reaction, the expression making him actually look his age, instead of so much older; despite Dorian being absolutely sure that he was older than the Lord Inquisitor himself by at least a few years, though Geth had never explicitly told anyone how old he was, “But, I suppose he likes it, and it looks at least sort of warm, so I can't really fault him…"

Dorian laughed again and shook his head, glancing over his shoulder at the tavern behind him, busy and loud with the sounds of dinner. Herald’s Rest was the name of the place, and it was situated at the foot of Skyhold, near the massive staircase leading into the hold itself. Dorian thought the name was rather on the nose, and ironic since Geth didn’t seem like he particularly enjoyed it here at all; only coming into speak to the members of the Inner Circle that had made the place home. He did, rarely, share dinner here with someone, or watch Maryden the Bard's various songs from a distance, a mug of his favorite tea in hand.

“Have you eaten?” Geth asked Dorian, more serious now as he nodded at the half-empty wine glass and the bottle that was almost a third gone.

“Not yet,” Dorian answered, a little tense, a little defensive.

“And water?” Geth added.

Dorian grumbled.

This seems to both amuse and concern Geth at the same time, though the amusement was only very slight, a tiny quirk at the very corner of one side of his lip. He doesn’t respond right away, taking a sip of his tea, thoughtfully. Then, he turns and gestures to the innkeeper, who hurried over.

"What do you have from the kitchens today?" He asked, kindly, and the bartender brightened at the request.

"We have a hot game venison and vegetable stew, and fresh bread with butter, Lord Inquisitor."

"Just Geth," Geth smiled, "Two, please, for Dorian and me. And a pitcher of water."

"Of course!"

"You don't have to do that," Dorian gives Geth a look, still rather defensive, although he wasn't sure why, "How did you even know I was here?"

"A little birdie," Geth answered, in that sometimes cryptic way of his, "And I am here because I wanted to have supper with you. I couldn't find you in the library."

Dorian replied with just a suspicious look, and Geth sighed a bit.

"I'm not going to tell you to do anything you don't want to do, Dorian. You are an adult; I am not your father."

"Thank the Maker for that."

Geth snorted.

"… I don't think I've ever seen you drink," Dorian said, after a few moments, nodding at the Inquisitor's tea, "Do you, ever?"

"I was taught by the Circle how to drink with meals, mostly wine pairings, sometimes beer," Geth said with a nod, "So, I did. But I was never particularly fond of it. However, I was a smoker - I occasionally bought a pouch of smoking tobacco and rolling paper - but not since I joined the Inquisition as it's expensive and I don't want to spend the coin on it. Josephine says I'm allowed to do with my own personal funds as I like, but I still can't justify it."

"You smoked?" Dorian made a face, and Geth chuckled.

"In my defense, I'll reiterate; not since I left Ostwick to come to the Conclave, Dorian. Don't worry."

"How often would you do it?"

"Well," Geth thought about it, "I started shortly after I became a Knight-Enchanter; I'd smoke with my brother Cedric, and his best friend, Anko. At the Ostwick Circle, especially for those with high noble blood like me, we were allowed to leave and visit our families, especially if you were of a good rank. There was once I was even able to travel out of Ostwick, but that was on a single case, and it never happened again until the war."

"Why?"

"My brother," Geth explained, simply, "When I turned 18. He took me out of Ostwick to see the sea for the first time."

"Ah," Dorian nodded, "I can't imagine so little freedom."

Geth smiled a little at him, and at that moment their food arrived, the innkeeper setting steaming bowls of thick, rich stew and a pitcher of water in front of them with two glasses. He politely left them to it after Geth thanked him, a small spring in his step.

"Hold on," Dorian remembered suddenly, "You don't like eating in front of people."

"I can stand it tonight," Geth answered, picking up the pitcher to pour them water, "Here, have some of this before you eat; it'll help your appetite."

Giving in, Dorian took the filled mug of water, and the look Geth gave him was worth it.

"Why don't you?" He asked, seriously, "Eat in front of people, I mean."

"It's complicated," Geth said, "I don't like being stared at in general, and big, shuffling crowds tend to make me nervous. It's part anxiety, and part I just don't like being watched, especially not when I'm eating. I've always been like this, though, it's not a new thing."

Dorian nodded, and they ate companionably after that. Maryden had started to sing, and Geth, after eating whatever he was able to - the man was never a very good eater, and it was crowded and of course he was being at least looked at occasionally since they were sitting at the main table in the tavern - turned his seat so he could watch her and listen, sitting back with his tea again, but keeping close to Dorian as he ate his own fill.

After a while, Dorian set his food aside and turned too, watching the bard.

"Do you like her music?" Dorian asked him, after a few songs.

"I knew quite a few Mages who took up music as a hobby," Geth looked over at him, eyes gentle, "I was never very good at it. But I do enjoy listening, on occasion."

"What were your hobbies?"

"In the Circle?" Geth thought about it, "I was reader, writer, and I practiced magic - usually open combat magic, sometimes hand-to-hand. I've mentioned that I came into my magic extremely early - four years old. Having such a young, but powerful Mage on their hands made the Templars extremely interested in my training from day one; they actually wanted me to take the Harrowing at age nine, but luckily for me, First Enchanter Arkell put her foot down."

"Absolutely barbaric," Dorian shook his head with a deep frown.

"There's a reason the Mages outside Tevinter rebelled." Geth answered, simply.

"I never doubted that" Dorian assured him, kindly, following up with a different question, "What did you think about that, when it happened?"

Geth looked serious again as he thought about it.

"My gut reaction was, 'this isn't going to end well,' which ended up completely true," Geth said, after Maryden's next song had ended, Dorian waiting patiently for the rest of his answer, "My next one was that a lot of good people were going to die; also correct, of course. But after those initial thoughts… I was afraid, Dorian. So deeply afraid. Until I shook hands with the Grand Enchanter at Redcliffe and ended it, I believed that it would destroy the whole of Thedas."

"You were almost right," Dorian says, taking Geth's free hand, and squeezing, "Luckily, Thedas had you."

Geth smiled and squeezed back. "I've made mistakes."

"Maybe," Dorian answered, "Maybe not. I think you've done a better job than anyone else could have."

"Do you now?" Geth laughed a little, shaking his head, "At least I have your approval."

They looked back at Maryden, still preforming, a backdrop of merriment to contrast with the seriousness of their conversation.

"Dorian," Geth says, after a moment, very quietly, "I think you need to stop drinking."

Dorian, startled by the sudden shift in conversation, looked over at him, into the Lord Inquisitor's calm, concerned steel grey eyes, flecked with azure. While his first gut instinct was to get up and walk out (and he knew from experience Geth wouldn't chase him down), he didn't.

"What if I don't?"

Geth, like he'd expected that, sighed heavily.

"I'm not going to threaten you, Dorian."

"I didn't think you would," Dorian says, looking back at Maryden, so Geth couldn't see the look on his face - he'd seen Geth confront members of the Inner Circle before. His reaction to Rainier's betrayal, which was the first thing he thought of, had been incredible. No other man in their mighty Lord Inquisitor's position would have let the man live, let alone continue to serve the Inquisition as a trusted and beloved member of his closest guard. Rainier himself had been stunned, of course. Dorian could hear him sniffling sometimes, while they'd been on the same team, out beating back Corypheus and his minions.

"Good," Geth says, "Because I would never threaten you. I'm not going to be that person in your life."

Dorian doesn't know how to respond to that - but that was a feeling he often had with Geth. Geth's approach to things, at first, didn't make any sense, but eventually it just hit people, like Dorian himself, like a hard knock to the head. Geth had a "method to the mad," as he often called it, which when questioned, meant that he saw everything he did against Corypheus like a chessboard - relationships, plans of attack, judgements he's done at Skyhold, every decision he made… there was always a plan.

Sometimes it scared Dorian, how these plans sometimes came together - with no one but Geth ever seeing it coming.

"Cole told me," Geth finally added, breaking the somewhat long silence, "Up at the library, when I was looking for you. He implied you were here."

"Ah."

Geth nodded, sitting back again, giving Dorian's hand another gentle squeeze.

"Are you willing to stop drinking, Dorian?" Geth asked him, after a moment, keeping an eye on Maryden who was about to start her next song; maybe to show Dorian that he wasn't going to make a scene at his response, "If you aren't, that's all right - I will not force you; I am not your keeper, nor do I want to be. However, as your friend, as your partner, and maybe as Lord Inquisitor, I have to bring this up, for both our sake's."

It made sense, as much as Dorian didn't want to admit it. Geth had never seen him get drunk; in fact, he made sure - that was probably what tipped him off in the first place. They hadn't really discussed it before, either; Geth had probably waited it out to see what, explicitly, the problem was. And by leveraging his position as Lord Inquisitor, made the inquiry a little bit more difficult to avoid.

People lied to Geth, all the time. No one lied to the Lord Inquisitor, ever.

Dorian sighed, sitting back with him. "What do you want me to do, specifically, Geth?"

"Stop drinking," Geth answered, simply, "But more precisely? I want you to confront what makes you do it in the first place."

Maker give him strength - who says this kind of shit to people?

The look on Dorian's face must have said it, because Geth looks over at him with another small, crooked smile.

"I do," He says, to answer the unspoken question, "I do, Dorian. And I'm going to keep doing it. For you and for anyone else who needs to hear it."

"Why do you care, Geth?"

Geth looked over at him, sharply now. "What do you mean?"

"You care," Dorian says, seriously, meeting the other man's eyes, "So much. I knew that from the second I met you in Redcliffe. You sacrificed yourself at Haven to keep everyone alive, without a second thought when you walked out the doors of the Chantry to face Corypheus and his Archdemon alone. Then you became Inquisitor, and that just made you somehow care more."

Geth looked startled for a moment, then, incredibly, started to laugh.

"This is why I wish I was never made Lord Inquisitor," Geth finally stopped laughing, shaking his head, still chuckling a bit as he added, "Maker, I swear - Dorian, love; I do care. Yes, I care a lot - particularly about you. But it's not - you all act like no one else cares, not even yourselves. The care you see me putting into everyone, everything, the Inquisition? I do that because not only do I care, I see that everyone else here cares, too - it would be spitting in their faces, and in the faces of those who've died fighting Corypheus, if I didn't put in the same effort, if not more effort, into the cause."

Dorian didn’t answer immediately, and Geth continued, easily.

"Cassandra stood up for me in front of the Chantry, and then made me Lord Inquisitor because she trusts me above all else, not only to lead, to make good decisions, but to stop Corypheus," Geth said, making Dorian look back at him, "Cullen trusts me with the lives of countless men and women, and so does Leliana, to a fault. Blackwall - Rainier - gave up his seclusion and ultimately told us all his truth, publicly and without shame, and saved all our lives. The Iron Bull gave up who he thought he was for the Inquisition, for me. Cole helps us all keep sane and remember how to feel, despite being a spirit. Sera - Sera is here, still here, despite being only nineteen, and hating everything about magic and Demons, and yet. Solas is one of the wisest and most dedicated Mages I've ever met. Varric is here despite his wishes, despite everything, and stays because he wants to help us put Thedas right. Vivienne, despite our difficulties personally, is a powerful, powerful mage who lends her expertise in politics to me - do you think I would have made it in Orlais without her? Absolutely not - the Game, Orlais, would have eaten me alive. And you, you Dorian…"

Dorian held his breath, though he wasn't really sure why.

"Before you even came to the Inquisition, to me, you were helping," Geth says, "You tracked down Alexius, your mentor, and when you realized what he was up to, you knew it was wrong, and you came to us. You told us the truth, even knowing it would make you a target. You were the one who went through that time-traveling debacle with me, you saw firsthand what was happening and what would happen if we failed, if I failed - and you follow me to this day, to right now, regardless. Then, even after all that, you still joined the Inquisition despite being spat at and worse since you got to my side. You call yourself selfish, Dorian - but you're not. You're not selfish, you are genuine; by far one of the most genuine people I've ever met."

As he finished speaking, Geth tightened his grasp over Dorian's hand. "… That is why I care, and will always care. Because of all of you."

[offwilds]

❛ don’t we deserve to be happy? ❜

Outside the chamber that they are currently occupying, cicadas chirp and from far off quiet voices and laughter can also be plainly heard, testimony that the common folk are still up and awake, enjoying wine and song at inns and taverns all over the whole of Novigrad, in spite of the late hour.

The sorceress pours a little white wine from Cidaris for the both of them, tosses an abudant mass of raven-black locks over her shoulder, the dark silk of her hair shining like the feathers of a raven, refracting the firelight. “You know, Tyr... I was once young... and in love,” she reminds them conversationally, as though she is speaking of another life, separate from the one she lives now. “if you can believe it,” memories pass like apparitions across her face, leading her to wave them away and back to the company she is currently keeping as she swiftly moves to sit near them, ravishing, delightful; entrancing: warm and muddled with wine, she is star-bright and laughing in amusement (a sharp, breathless sound), violet eyes ashimmer like clusters of stars as she peers over at him curiously, says, in that infamously cold, haughty manner of the sorceress, “we might still be... young. in love... happy.” her delicate shoulders roll into a small shrug, as she expands her thoughts, as she reaches out to pinch his chin, whispers playfully to them, “spare the world your drama. we will be whatever we decide to be.” she assures them in a delicate slur, pressing closer so that she might stare at him leisurely as she plays with strands of their hair, her dark head resting upon the back of the couch they are sharing, raven-black locks spilling like a dark river all around her shoulders. “You are a beautiful creature, and there are those who could love you and shall.... You are bound to live with exceptionality.” she promises; and mayhaps it is the wine speaking; but in these brutal, dark times of loss and strife, this, shall have to suffice. It shall have to be enough to believe in a brighter future for the both of them to push through the darkness.

@hugdjarfur

[frozenbound]

Just in the process of reading the request you did for me! I found the original writer of the mchan fic I said about, seemed shorter than I remember but I think that's cause I read your fic directly afterwards which is where I got the tender stuff from which I absolutely adore and needs to be done more often! As I started reading the request I had an evil idea of a cole x hanzo with shimadacest, hanzo teasing genji to near madness by only allowing cole his bussy. Consensually of course

An evil idea...or an inspired one? Heh heh heh...

Sorry for taking so long to fulfill your request! I shouldn't have opened requests right before traveling and having spotty Internet and a crappy laptop, but this prompt was on my mind the whole time and I couldn't wait to finish it!

I hope you don't mind that I kinda combined it with my Shimadacest headcanon #5, just to make Genji even more blue-balled!

(And don't worry, Anon, I have your request, too, and I should have it done soon!)

Hanzo teasing Genji by way of Cole, coming right up under the Read More! Thank you so much for your wonderful request!

“Brother,”  Genji whines when Hanzo slows down as they approach his quarters. “Brother, please. Hurry.” 

“You’re sure about this, my little Genji?”  Hanzo asks, smiling pleasantly yet with that awful low-key mischief that so many people think he’s utterly devoid of. “You’ve come so far, further than you ever have before.” 

“Yes, brother,” Genji says, and because the hallway is completely deserted, he presses his body into Hanzo’s and reaches down and removes his codpiece to release his wet, straining erection to press against his brother’s hip. “Please. Please, Hanzo, I need it. I’ll hump your leg out here if you go any slower.”

“That,” Hanzo says with a stern look, “would break the rules. Rutting away like a mongrel dog doesn’t count as me helping you.”

“Then come on, brother!” Genji growls, beginning to rub against him despite his disdainful words and nuzzling his nose and metallic jaw against Hanzo’s neck, his lips moving against his skin as he speaks. “Hurry!”

“Alright, alright,” Hanzo says placatingly, rolling his eyes and breaking away to walk briskly down to his quarters. “Come on, then.” 

Genji follows, right on his heels, coming close to panting like the mongrel dog he apparently so resembles.

He doesn’t care about unflattering allegories at this point, though. It’s been three weeks. It’s the longest he’s ever gotten into No Nut November, and it’s an even bigger accomplishment because Hanzo pointedly declined participating in it himself…but he did agree to be Genji’s “failsafe”, just like when they were younger.

Genji can’t just admit defeat and jack himself off. Hanzo has to be the one to do it, both to be a witness to how far Genji got…and just because it’s so, so hot to release so many days’ and weeks’ worth of pent-up sexual energy into his mouth or ass or onto his face and body.

Three weeks’ worth this time.

Genji can hardly wait.

So when Hanzo takes his time to punch in his access code, Genji drapes himself over his shoulders, slotting his cock, still out in the open in the empty hallway, between the swells of his brother’s ass and thrusting and hotdogging against the soft cloth of his sweatpants and the hard muscle of his glutes.

He pulls down the neckline of Hanzo’s t-shirt and begins licking and mouthing at the skin at the base of his neck.

He’s basically starting his lovemaking right here in the hallway, he’s so desperate.

The door slides open.

“Howdy, darl…oh!” 

Genji and Cassidy freeze and lock eyes, Genji in the doorway with his lips on his brother’s skin, Cassidy stretched out on his brother’s bed, completely nude, hand around his cock.

There’s a short yet almost eternal moment of silence.

“Ah, yes,” Hanzo says, utterly unperturbed, and even…even amused. “We were going to fuck tonight, weren’t we, Cole?” 

“Uh,” Cassidy replies awkwardly, “yeah, we sure were.”

“I apologize, it slipped my mind,” Hanzo says conversationally as he steps forward, pulling Genji inside with him, to allow the door to slide closed. “Genji waylaid me with very singleminded focus and swept me along. My apologies.”

“Don’t, uh,” Cassidy says, wary and suspicious, “don’t worry about it. Should I…go?” 

“Of course not,”  Hanzo says as though it were obvious. “We have an appointment.” He turns in place, very deliberately keeping Genji’s frozen lips in contact with his skin, and looks deep into his brother’s eyes. “Another time, Genji. It’s late and I’ll be too tired to take care of you once I’m done with Cole.” 

But he doesn’t usher Genji to the door.

He doesn’t wait until Genji shows himself out.

He simply turns away, shucks off his pants and T-shirt, revealing what Genji already knew, that he wasn’t wearing underwear, and marches to the bed and grabs hold of Cassidy’s legs and pulls him to the edge of the bed before placing his ankles on his shoulders.

“Lube, please, Cole.”

Cassidy glances between Hanzo and Genji. “Uh…” he says reluctantly.

Hanzo raises an eyebrow. “I’d like to fuck you senseless and then ride you, cowboy. Would you like to postpone?”

Cassidy swallows.

And he does exactly what Genji would do in his position.

“No,” he says softly. “Keep going.” 

And he hands over the small bottle of lube sitting next to him. His cock is already shiny with it, and he pumps his cock once or twice distractedly, still glancing over at Genji as he stands stockstill. Watching them.

Then Hanzo starts rubbing circles with a single yet large and blocky and slick finger around his hole, and Cassidy’s eyes close involuntarily and he lets his head fall back.

A glob of precum all but spurts out of Genji’s cock and falls to the floor.

He’s so horny.

It’s been three weeks.

He needs Hanzo’s hands on him so badly that even now he can feel the ghostly touch of his own imagination running up and down his body, repeatedly brushing over the boundaries between his artificial and natural skin, each with its own brand of sensitivity, the artificial skin able to perceive every minute ridge and swirl of Hanzo’s fingerprints, his natural skin drinking in Hanzo’s warmth, and both shuddering under his brother’s increasingly rapid pulse.

Instead…

Cassidy groans as Hanzo gently bites the meat of his thick calf, running his free hand over his hairy leg as he pumps his finger in and out of his hole, and Genji’s hearing is so sharpened by his desperate need that he can hear, he can hear when Hanzo adds a second finger…and a third…

“Hanzo,” Cassidy moans, his hands grasping blindly to palm at Hanzo’s hard stomach. “Hanzo, please…”

“Shh, shh,” Hanzo whispers. “You are nearly ready. You’ve been playing with yourself, I can tell.”

So can Genji. Those squelching, popping sounds can only come from an asshole that’s already pliant and soft.

Genji’s fingers made the same sounds when he prepared himself just before coming in search of his brother.

He’d only barely kept himself under control, just barely, as he stretched himself out good and proper. Hotdogging Hanzo through his pants had been a ruse; he’d planned to push Hanzo onto the bed, clamber up onto his lap, and sink down onto his cock and ride him until he came hands-free…

…but instead, he only watches as Hanzo lines his cock up with Cassidy’s hole and presses in, burying himself balls-deep, before he slaps his hand away from his own cock and takes over, pumping up and down furiously in direct contrast to his slow and steady thrusts.

“Hanzo! Darling!” Cassidy gasps, red-faced and panting. “You’re gonna make me cum!”

“If you do,” Hanzo says calmly with that same mischievous tone he used with Genji, “I can’t ride you.”

Cassidy groans and writhes on the bed as Hanzo suddenly ramps up the pace of his fucking to match the speed of his hand bobbing up and down on his cock.

Genji’s hands long to drift towards his cock and towards his ass.

His cock is straining, his balls are twitching, his ass is clenching.

His skin, artificial and natural, burns.

But he keeps still, his eyes fixed on the tableau before him, as his brother’s hips slap into Cassidy’s over and over, the cowboy’s round, muscled, hairy ass jiggling with each impact, his balls bouncing with Hanzo’s every pull.

That should be me, he thinks distantly.

That should be me getting absolutely railed, my cock in his hand. 

I should be the one moaning his name over and over, he thinks, listening to Cassidy’s almost senseless babbling. 

I should be the one with my legs over his shoulders and have my toes curling as he pounds my hole. He should be leaning over me as he explodes inside me and says…

“Cole,” Hanzo gasps, his hips stuttering before he buries himself to the hilt inside of the cowboy.

There’s a few moments of quiet stillness as Hanzo finishes unloading into Cassidy, pumping him full of his cum…

…but Hanzo wastes little time before he’s withdrawing from Cassidy’s sloppy, cumstained hole and dropping his feet to the floor and climbing into his lap.

“Such self control,” Hanzo purrs.

It takes Genji a few moments that he’s addressing both Cassidy and him, Hanzo’s gaze trained on his little brother’s face as he lowers himself on Cassidy’s red-purple cockhead.

He must have prepared himself, too.

Cassidy pops past his entrance with little to no effort.

His eyes never leave Genji’s.

“So good,” he continues, smiling. “So good for me.”

He’s enjoying this so much, the bastard. He loves being in control, loves having everyone around him at his whim, loves having them at his beck and call.

He’s smiling as he begins to hump up and down, taking Cassidy so effortlessly, his cock flopping and windmilling around half-chubbed, spent yet valiantly trying to stiffen once again.

He watches Genji watch him, his eyes flicking down to take in his little brother’s cock weeping a steady stream of precum onto the floor.

He looks so radiant and content and proud to be the center of attention, and to be able to tease his little brother once again after so many years, and to have empty balls and an ass full of cock.

So…

So even though Genji feels like his veins might pop at any moment from the sheer force of his hammering pulse as he watches Hanzo fuck himself on Cassidy’s cock…even though his frustration and jealousy is matched only by his lust…even though his balls are so blue he’s almost going crosseyed…

…he can live with all of it, just to see his brother grin in unshadowed triumph when Cassidy cries out and grasps his hips to forcibly grind his ass down on himself as he shoots his wad deep, deep into Hanzo’s fiery heat.

He can live with Cassidy pulling Hanzo into a bruising kiss.

He can live with Hanzo draping himself over the cowboy and holding him close in a warm embrace as they pant into each other’s mouths.

And he can wait patiently as they drift off into a contented, sated sleep, and even pull the covers over their bare skin, and climb in with them, spooning Hanzo from behind even as Cassidy’s hairy arms hold his brother flush to his hairier chest.

He can breathe slow and deep throughout the night as the hours drag by.

And then he can absolutely rail his brother, slamming into him so hard that he knocks his breath out into Cassidy’s awed face as all three of them are bathed in the golden sunlight of the dawn spilling through the window.

It’s been three weeks and one day.

And he makes sure Hanzo knows it.

[polyamorouspunk]

legimately feel bad for gen z, never grew up with privacy and stuff like that. I know that one anon ofc very clearly stepped outta line n I made the joke anon msg about how u gotta tell me all ur info so I can call u a faker, but like legimately it's sad seeing kids put all their info online and when they're available or not etc etc, lotta gen z didn't grow up with properly privacy and the newer generation has it even worse. I hope the kids will be alright n we can push them into having more anonymity and privacy.

I said this in the tags but honestly if someone genuinely asks me a question about myself, I will answer, honestly sometimes even if it’s something I want to keep private. Recent events have reminded me that literally anyone can see this blog and follow me and I have no idea who they are. My Instagram isn’t private when a lot of people I know have theirs private but also I don’t really tag anything from where I live, the most I do is post pictures from my house but not with the town or anything. But I mean you can easily find where I work on here (like the exact store) if you tried, I’m pretty sure I’ve posted my full name multiple times on Savvy’s blog because I think I also grew up in that era where online privacy wasn’t a thing. I mean of course I got the “creepy men might be behind the computer screen catfishing you” but like idk I’m not saying I haven’t done things like that, they’re just mentioned conversationally not in a pinned post. I mean you can find my full first name on Savvy’s blog, obviously I don’t go by that and she prefers to go by Savvy because both are a bit more gender neutral and just more comfortable for us but. I have absolutely learned how to manipulate people to call them out for things I don’t like about them… mostly when they’re like exclusionists but if I really tried I’m sure I have the technical skills to like “cancel” someone for something they didn’t even mean out of context. I learned that by growing up in the internet age. How to take things out of context. That’s not really what you’re talking about but just another thing that came to mind. Like how much easier it is now to fake things and how 1. we are less trained to spot them and 2. they are deliberately made to be harder to spot as fakes. I mean I have had penpals though, I did just send out a shirt to someone who Savvy is mutuals with so like I have their address and they have mine. It’s a fine line. But I mean I used to listen to a stalker podcast (and by this I mean a literal podcast where two people interviews victims of stalking and told their story) and some of the stuff I heard on there was WILD. Just listened to a case I finished like half an hour ago about a woman who catfished a man into thinking he was dating her dying niece who the government and doctors were trying to kill and people ended up dying from the situation all from her charade of having multiple phone numbers and being able to fake personalities of characters she made up really easily. Just wild stuff. Had an assignment due last night that was a discussion board in biology and someone brought up technology and I was like we have the technology to literally change your bone structure and shit. Not the same as social media obviously but just like wild shit. Even at thanksgiving hearing one of my cousins was constantly talking to a boy in her class but my family said in class they like never speak to each other and I’m like that’s so wild. You don’t speak face to face but you see him every day. But you talk to him for hours every night. Just stuff like that is such a cultural shift. Such a fine line too as a parent between not trying to be overbearing and like read your kids text messages but also make sure they’re being safe. Can’t imagine how to navigate that as a parent. Like how do you know your child isn’t sending photos of themselves on Snapchat. Without like invading their privacy and reading their messages and stuff. Just wild.

[seolblogs]

Blog 1

Hello! In English, my name is Seolbin Hong. I have no middle name nor an “English” name. In Korean, my name is 홍설빈. When I lived in America, my name started to change its pronunciation from a sharp “sul”, to a rounded “sole” sound. My identity started to change, or some might say “take shape”. For 15 years, whenever I took a new class, I would know when my name was next on the roster for attendance. The teacher would start roll call with the names that began with A, then would tread down the list until they took a breath of hesitance for my name. After their breath, they would begin trying to read out my name phonetically like  “Seeaaaaa-oleeeee-bbb???”, while darting their eyes around the classroom for the student, in which I would raise my hand quietly, and when recognized, pronounce my name for them. It didn’t bother me because they meant no harm. But, in the couple days that I was here, I’ve come to realize that taking attendance actually made me anxious, that I would always hold my breath when it came near my name and that I would be extra alert, because subconsciously I was used to trying to decipher if the teacher was trying to pronounce my name or another student’s name when the roster came around to the names that began with “S”. But in Korea, the professors would say my name with such ease and quickness that I almost missed it. They would read my name as it was intended by my parents and I felt happy. I felt at ease. This was a small realization I’ve had recently, but it seems like a small ripple that is a part of a greater wave yet to be explored. 

I always like to reflect on my experiences and analyze them. I like comparing the different ways people/companies approach the same situation, so that I could learn what works and what doesn’t and apply it. I like understanding how experience is curated and catered to the audience, whether it is intended or not and whether it is at a micro level or a macro level. During this time in Korea, I’ve also observed many of my American classmates experiencing what I’ve experienced for a long time for the first time, where their name was met with inexperience. 

Names are important, it provides meaning and connection, which is why many say not to name a stray animal, lest you get attached to it. You’re called a certain name by the people you love, and with that, your name starts to represent more than yourself but the people you’re intertwined with. My name is important to me too, but I wonder if I’ve come to downplay significant things in my life and expect people to be unfamiliar with me, who I am and what I represent. And I wonder how that affects the inclusivity provided by services, people and groups in America towards people like me. While I understand that not everything can be catered to, I wonder about how design can be improved to better understand the current world and the people in it and to help them. Like in the introduction of the post-LLM HCI class, we can’t always design how someone will feel. But, the more sensitivity and understanding of context that we have for one another, the more likely it is that the individual will feel more comfortable. I want to learn how to do this better, how to better design and plan for better user experience for more people, whether it begins with employee training or within development of the product/service that moderates their experience.

Some more background information about me is that I grew up in Hawai’i, though I was born in South Korea. Both my parents are from South Korea, and we moved with a couple of relatives from my dad’s side. I’m conversationally fluent in Korean as my parents didn’t have much background knowledge in English when they moved, which led to us always speaking Korean at home. Growing up, I really liked pokemon and video games (more so mario, pokemon and wii games rather than fps shooter type games). My MBTI is ambiguous because I’m nearly split 50/50 on all four categories. I like to laugh and make conversations and friends. But I also reallyyyyyyyy love being at home. I could stay in the house for a really long time as long as I have food, a bathroom/shower and wifi. I love couches. I’m also not really sporty but I like music, cooking and the art of creation. I know how to play around 7 instruments and have tried many artistic hobbies (illustration, whittling, stitching, felting, etc). And, currently, I’m a Junior Computer Science major in California.

Because of my field of interest, from this course, I would like to understand more about how to design products/processes better, with a more accurate understanding of my target audiences. I also hope to adopt better skills in research to better contextualize and select my target audience and assess their needs in today’s current world and how to better prepare to adapt for the changes in the future. One of my aspirations is to create my own game, and also work on other applications/websites to provide better and easier services for user experience. I would also like to help services become more inclusive towards the older generations and to different languages in America. I enjoy learning about the improvements that companies and individuals are making to make services easier and provide greater experiences and support for people. Beyond machinery/technology, AI should be used to help people and if we take the time and effort to ask the community around us for their input, we will better be able to care for one other.