#again if you read the portions where they were respectively children you can imagine that actually they would have publicly

[junonreactor]

hm

[sageblogsthings]

Do you have any tips on how to write characters with scoliosis in a respectful/accurate way?

Thank you so much for asking! I smiled like an idiot when I saw this ask. :) Let me preface this by saying that scoliosis can vary a lot from person to person depending on the severity of curvature, location of curvature, treatment methods, etc. So I think that, as with anything really, getting a wide range of viewpoints and voices on the issue will make it easier to write! Honestly just scrolling through the scoliosis tag on tumblr will give you a good sense of what it’s like for some people too. With that being said, I’ll talk a bit about my experience, and how I wish that characters with scoliosis were portrayed. Just know that my answer is far from universal amongst those with scoliosis. Also, medical treatment where I live is pretty shitty so I may have some other undiagnosed stuff that I’m attributing to scoliosis who knows lol. And I’m still learning a lot about it myself! Ok, with that caveat out of the way, here we go!

I’m gonna put a tw here for discussions of scoliosis, chronic pain, anxiety, and depression

Also, for those who don’t wanna read about my experiences with scoliosis, if you scroll down there’s 13 tips on how to write characters with scoliosis (a lot of these tips apply to chronic pain in general tho). :)

To talk about my own experience a bit, I was first diagnosed with scoliosis when I was about 10 or so. When I was first diagnosed they told me it was minor and just to watch my posture. Scoliosis runs in my family but for most of my family members it’s pretty mild so I didn’t worry about it and went on my merry way. In hindsight, not the best way to deal with that but ah well.

Flash-forward to college. I had been having back pain and headaches for awhile, but I just figured it was studying for prolonged periods of time, carrying a heavy backpack frequently, and not watching my posture when I studied. I never connected it to scoliosis because I hadn’t had a check-up since that first diagnosis. Again, not the best idea but life happens.

I just finished my junior year in college, and I have had almost non-stop doctors appointments all year. It started after I had some sharp pain in my lower back, and got x-rays to see what was going on. Several doctors appointments and an ER visit later I find out that my scoliosis has gotten significantly worse, and that I have a fractured L5 as well. One thing I don’t see mentioned a lot with scoliosis is that it significantly weakens your spine (usually lower) because your weight distribution is thrown off. I had a job that involved some pretty heavy lifting, and voila fractured L5. 13/10 would not recommend btw.

My curvature (I can’t get consistent answers from doctors) is somewhere in the 20′s in my lumbar region and in the upper 20′s/lower 30′s in my thoracic region. At least with the neurosurgeons I’ve spoken to, they don’t consider you a candidate for surgery until the upper thirties or forties, unless you have significant neurophysiological symptoms. Treatment options vary widely depending on where you live, what you can afford, and what your doctor will give you a referral for, but most doctors will recommend physical therapy off the bat. To my knowledge, most doctors do not recommend bracing anymore, though I think in children that might be different (not so sure on that). So currently, I am waiting on an appointment with a pain management specialist and will go from there. 

Even though the curvature in my spine is relatively minor, I still experience significant symptoms. Some of these symptoms include sciatica, pinched nerves in my arms, legs, and back, muscle spasms in my upper back and neck, swelling of my hands and feet, and numbness or pain in my hands and wrists. Also, because my spine curves more in the upper portion of my back, my left lung cannot expand as much as my right lung. This isn’t always a problem, but I get shortness of breath pretty easily, and any respiratory infections make it super hard to breathe properly (pneumonia sucks a butt). There’s also the obvious bit of scoliosis where I stand a little crooked. Another thing I think that not a lot of people know is that how “lopsided” you are can vary from day to day. This doesn’t mean that the curvature is changing day-to-day, but the muscles may be more relaxed or tightened on some days.

So that’s my experience pretty much (bless you if you read all that!). But, to show an example on the opposite end of the spectrum, my friend had (I think) a 30 degree curvature in the thoracic region and 50 degree curvature in the lumbar. He had immediate corrective surgery (I’m not sure exactly what kind) and now aside from the scar on his back and that he looks like a table when he bends over (his words lol i’m not being mean) you would never know. And even weirder, he had no significant symptoms before his surgery aside from occasional sciatica. So your symptoms don’t necessarily depend on the degree of curvature, where the curve is located has a lot to do with it. Typically, more curvature in the upper spine is more painful but that’s by no means always the case.

Ok, so how in the heck does this all apply to writing characters? I promise it does, I’m not just rambling (well, maybe haha).

13 Things to Consider When Writing Characters With Scoliosis:

Their symptoms may vary from day to day. This may mean that some days they can do activities like running or baseball, and other days they can barely type or walk without pain.

They may have no, mild, or severe symptoms, depending on the location and severity of curvature, and other factors.

What is medical care like where they live? Dealing with doctors, neurosurgeons, physical therapists, etc. is just a part of having scoliosis, and very often an incredibly draining aspect. This is especially true if you have anxiety or other factors that make going to the doctor even more unpleasant.

Were they misinformed about scoliosis? Unless you go to someone who specializes in scoliosis treatment, you’re probably gonna get inaccurate information about something. For example, I was told constantly as a kid to watch my posture. Yes, this can have an impact, but more and more research is showing that scoliosis in many cases is influenced more by hormones (especially in teenage years) than posture. There’s also more egregious examples of this, such as a neurosurgery PA who recently told me not to ever use CBD to alleviate pain because it’s a “gateway drug.” This is literally impossible. So for writing, this could translate into frustration or even anger for your character. But it could also make for some funny situations later! I wrote down everything that crazy PA told me and it still makes me laugh from time to time.

Don’t give them a back-breaking job. It will literally break their back lol. I’m not saying they can’t be active, but if someone is impacted by scoliosis on a daily basis they probably aren’t working as a professional wrestler. Or maybe they are, and your story is trying to explain how that works lol

What do they do to manage the pain (if they have it)? For me, the symptoms are typically inflammatory in nature so things like ice, heat, turmeric tea, and anti-inflammatory medications help relieve the symptoms. This is one of those things where getting other viewpoints is good though too!

Is their spine visibly crooked? If so, are they self-conscious about it? This varies a loooot, and may even vary with symptoms. For example, maybe some days when the pain isn’t bad they wear a cute dress that shows their shoulder-blades. But then when the pain is bad, they just want to look like a hobo. I say this from experience lol.

Have people treated them differently because of it (positively or negatively)? Some people may experience bullying if their scoliosis is more visible, especially as a child. They may also be treated differently by adults, who are trying to look out for them, but nevertheless it still makes them stand out from other kids.

Do they make jokes about it? For example, I can be found frequently saying “my spine said yeet!” or “straight spine? idk her” or my personal favorite “my spine is about as straight as I am.” Scoliosis sucks, but living with it you learn to find humor in it too.

Are they going to get surgery for it? I can’t speak on this part since I haven’t had surgery, but I would imagine that there is a psychological aspect to this that you would want to mention for your character, as well as any logistical aspects like finances, dealing with trash insurance companies, etc.

How does scoliosis impact their mental health? This is one of my pet peeves, and it’s entirely founded in a lack of resources and education, so I’m not aiming this at anyone specifically. But scoliosis does impact your mental health, especially if you have pre-existing conditions like anxiety or depression already. It can be incredibly depressing to want to do something as simple as going for a walk, but you’re in too much pain. It can also really impact anxiety. For example, when I found out about my curvature change in college I had one of the biggest anxiety attacks I’ve ever had. There is also the added issue of not being able to breathe properly at times, which can make a panic/anxiety attack much worse (in intensity or duration). Of course, mental health issues can also be exacerbated by the environment you’re in, so that is definitely something to consider for your character.

What was their diagnosis like? What factors impacted their ability to get a diagnosis? Lack of adequate medical care or having crappy insurance is a huge problem, and it makes it really hard or even impossible for some people to get a diagnosis. And for most neurosurgeons or specialized treatment facilities you have to have that diagnosis and referral for them to be able to do anything. There may also be aspects of your character’s home life that prevents them from getting a diagnosis. Do their parents think they’re faking it, or that they just need to sit up straight? Is your character trans, and/or wears baggy clothing? I’ve heard several stories of undiagnosed cases because of this, so it’s something to consider.

Ok, I think this is the last thing (huge huge thank you to anyone still reading this!!). But please, if you’re writing a character with scoliosis, or any chronic issue/disability for that matter, avoid the trope of you’re still beautiful to me/you’re beautiful anyways/I don’t see your disability. Some people might not get what I’m saying here, so let me explain a little. If you have a character with significant scoliosis, to the point it impacts their daily life, and they meet another character (potential friend, love interest, whatever) and this new person grows to love them in spite of their scoliosis/disability, that is a huge red flag. It implies that they are seeing them through a lens of not having the disability, and they love that version of your character. But that is not your character in reality, because your character in reality has a very real disability. In general, just try to avoid the “I don’t see __,” in writing and real life. That could be applied to a disability, or the character’s race, sexuality, etc. In all cases, it dismisses a fundamental part of who that character is, and what experiences have shaped them into who they are. If your character has scoliosis and it has shaped who they are, it is important for other characters to recognize that as well, otherwise they aren’t really seeing that character in their “full glory,” if that makes sense. I’m rambling a bit at this point and I’m sure there’s other posts that make this point better than I have, but the takeaway is just please don’t write scoliosis as “you’re beautiful anyways.” Scoliosis or no scoliosis, it’s just “you’re beautiful.” Full stop. But part of how your character may come to recognize that beauty within themselves, or how others see it within them, may be influenced by their experiences with scoliosis.

Phew, I did not expect that to get so long but it’s a topic I’m passionate about and I haven’t seen information on scoliosis geared towards writers before, so hopefully this will help! Again, a lot of this is based on my own experiences so please do not take any of this as a universal guide to scoliosis, it definitely isn’t. And if I’ve said anything that people disagree with (or even agree with!) or have questions about, I am always open to polite discourse and discussion. :)

I hope that this answered your question some, and if not feel free to let me know! Thank you so much for asking this!

[dailyaudiobible]

02/01/2021 DAB Transcript

Exodus 13:17-15:18, Matt 21:23-46, Ps 26:1-12, Pr 6:16-19

Today is the 1st day of February, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian and it's great to be here with you today. Obviously it’s a special day because we’re transitioning into the second month of the year, but it’s a special day because we've completed a whole month together, which means we are settling into a rhythm and we are settling into community for the year. It's…it’s interesting. If we…we make it to Valentine's Day, then the chances are really good that we are going to make it through the year together. And, so, well done for making it all the way here to the second month of the year. Let’s just take a second to think back. It's only been a month, but look at all that has happened. We…we found our origin story. We discussed that. We found out in the third chapter of Genesis what happened to us. We know this is the fall of man. We…we saw the repercussions of that immediately, both in the world and in the human heart. Mankind was naked and unashamed. That was the natural state of things. That’s how it was supposed to be both inward and outward week. We weren’t supposed to have to hide. We weren’t supposed to have hide from each other or from God. But that's what happened, naked and ashamed and hiding. And that's what we see everywhere we look, including in the mirror. And, so, we got some context. And we went through famous stories that we've probably heard our whole lives, like Noah and the flood. And we then met this man Abram and God calling this man Abram to a land he didn't know and giving a promise for this land and changing his name to Abraham and entering into a covenant with him. And then we watched the miraculous story begin to unfold as generations passed to new generations and more and more children were born. And, so, Abraham has Isaac. Isaac as Jacob. And we hear this often in the Bible, “the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.” And then Jacob's name was changed to Israel. And all the sudden we have a context for what we hear about the children of Israel. The children of Jacob and his offspring, the children of Israel. And we watched the story of Joseph at length, one of the children of Israel, who was trafficked by his brothers into slavery in Egypt. We watched God save Egypt from plague, saving Joseph's family in the process. And then we watched them prosper in…in Egypt, four centuries. Like, four centuries, but they were enslaved and then we met another powerful pivotal figure in the Scriptures named Moses, who was sent back to Egypt to be the…the prophet of God and to demand the freedom of God's people. And that brought on all these plagues that we’ve been reading about the last few days. And that's where we find ourselves. The final plague has descended upon Egypt. The…the children of Israel have been forcibly forced out of Egypt. And that's where we pick up the story as we begin this second month of the year. And we’re reading from the Voice Translation this week. Exodus chapter 13 verse 17 through 15 verse 18.

Commentary:

Okay. A few things we should probably take note of from our reading today because they will help us with our day and our week and this brand-new shiny sparkly month that we find ourselves in. Let's go to the book of Exodus first. The children of Israel have been set free from the bondage of slavery in Egypt. And we watched all of that unfold plague after plague after plague sort of systematically dismantling Egypt. And Pharaoh's arrogance in believing that he is a deity, that he is divine, that he is a God himself, and who is this Hebrew God that would come. And you can kinda get in his head and understand why he would think this. If he has been raised to believe that he is a child, a son of God, that he is the Pharaoh, like a divine being upon the earth, the king of Egypt, and he has a population of people who are his slaves and this population of people who are his slaves come and say, “our God says that you should let us go.” I mean if you think you are divine yourself then you would be thinking, “well, at bare minimum you are my slaves. Whoever your God is is no way near as powerful as the gods of Egypt or me.” So, we can see him resisting and we can see God just demonstrating His power before them at first but then things definitely begin to take a more serious turn and things amp up all the way until Pharaoh and the Egyptians demand the children of Israel leave, which they did. And then we…we read something really interesting that could really help us in our lives. So, the children of Israel were freed from slavery. They entered the desert because that's…that's the way to go to the promised land, across the Sinai Peninsula, but God did not lead them by the shortest, easiest coastal route. He led them deeper into the desert. So, in other words, He set them free and did not give them any easy path, did not give them the most straightforward path. There was work to be done in that desert. And we’re in that desert now, right? They’ve crossed the Red Sea and they are on the other side of the Red Sea, but they are in the desert and they are going to be there, and we are going to be there with them for what feels like an awful long time, 40 years to be specific. Actually, even more than that. And, so, we’ll be spending some time in the desert. And this is our desert portion of the year and we need to embrace it because there are so many lessons in the wilderness. And I mean that metaphorically in our lives, but I also mean that literally in the stories that we’ll find in the Bible that come from the wilderness. So, the children of Israel are in the wilderness backed up to the Red Sea when they notice that an army is coming against them. And the closer that tis army gets the more they realize these are the Egyptians. This is the Egyptian Army coming to destroy us and re-enslave. Of course, the Egyptians and Pharaoh after they…after they let the people go, they start imagining the repercussions. This is going to be devastating to their economy because now you have…you have about a million people that are your slaves that have been propping things up that you've set free. And, so, they’re reconsidering and hardening their hearts again. And they’re gonna go back and get going back and get the Hebrew people. Meanwhile the Hebrew people are kind of boxed in. It’s the wilderness in front of them, the Red Sea, the ocean behind them and the enemy army is bearing down upon them. We could pause here and just think about seasons in our lives where we have felt trapped and boxed in, like where there is literally no good way to go. The enemy is coming down against us. It’s the sea behind us and the mountains and the wilderness before us. There is no way to escape. And, so, the Hebrew people do basically what we would normally do. They start to complain and gripe about the predicament they’re in because now God has come to set them free and things have only gotten worse again. Do you see a theme emerging, though? Is this not the story of Joseph where when he did everything right things only got worse? So, they're ready to abandon Moses, see if they can maybe go back to Egypt and become slaves again because that might be better. While here's this army that’s gonna destroy them. They are trapped. And God speaks to Moses and Moses speaks to the people. The only thing you need to do is shut your mouth and watch this. This enemy that you see today you will never see them again. And that is indeed what happened. And that is indeed something that we should put in our pocket or purse and carry around with us for the next year.

Then we move into the book of Matthew. The religious leadership, we are talking about the clergy, right? We are talking about men of God who are leading the people are getting pretty fed up with Jesus. God in flesh. Like, they do not believe. And, so, they confront Jesus about how…who gave Him permission to do what He's doing. And, of course, as we have come to notice in the first month of the year Jesus is always going to speak to the truth of the situation. He’s always good to talk to the plot behind the story. He knows that what's being presented is a mask, that everyone is naked and ashamed and hiding. And, so, He's like, “well, let me ask you a question.” And He talks about John because they didn't believe in John either. And, so, Jesus ends up telling the story about a man who had a vineyard and he fixed it all up and got it ready for business, and then he leased it and went away and when a  harvest time came he wanted his share of the harvest, but the tenants refused became rebellious, beat up the people who came to collect the harvest on a number of occasions until the master sent is heir, his son to come and collect because he's the heir, he that…he's the owner. And, so, they should respect the owner of the vineyard but they don't. They conspire to kill him, which is what they do. And then Jesus asks the religious leadership what the Masters gonna do. And they immediately answer, “the master is gonna destroy those people.” They were speaking out their own future essentially, because in the story the vineyard is the Kingdom, and the master is the Father, and the Son is Jesus. And this story is an interesting warning about religious dominance. When religion is used to ensnare or entrap or control people then there is no value in it. That might sound bigger than it should. But it's simply the story that's coming out of all of the Gospels. The people that were against Jesus were the people of God, God's leaders who did not recognize that God was doing a new thing in the world and did everything to destroy that new thing including...including killing God, including killing Jesus. God made flesh. So, we should get some clues that this journey we are on as we walk alongside Jesus and listen to what He has to say and watch the away that He operates and observe His character that we may find a bunch of challenges, that we may need to listen to Jesus instead of what we've been told about Him, that we might need to press in closer and deeper as we watch the amazing and that's an understatement…the amazing thing that God had chose to do when He chose to come and rescue people again from slavery. Slavery to the oppressiveness of what was going on around them in their culture and slavery to sin. And we also may need to understand that when we become free we may not be taking the easy road. We may need to go into the wilderness because there is work to do there.

Prayer:

Jesus, we invite You into that because it doesn't sound like it would be fun. We don’t want to go wander in the wilderness. We felt like we did that all year last year. And yet the thing You are after is our freedom. And we confess that even as we see it in the Scriptures, we see it in our own lives. We fight You on that because it might be hard, it might be difficult. We might have to endure. It may get more difficult, before it gets easier and we don't like that. We don't like that. And yet You've been very clear all along that there is a narrow path that leads to life and that that is the path that leads to life and few ever find it, but wide is the road to destruction, the easy path. And, so, as we move into this second month, we are inviting Your Holy Spirit to begin to align us with where You're going, to begin aiming us in the direction we need to head in no matter what it looks like because we as the children of Israel are going to have to learn that there is no other hope outside of You. You are the only hope there is and we must trust You utterly. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi, my DAB family this is Truly Thankful Taylor just wanted to say hi tonight. I have three of my little ones with me…2 littles and one teenager. Girls do you wanna say hi? Hi. We've been talking about our reading for today in DAB Kids and Chronological and all the different stuff 'cause all of our family are doing different ones. Some of us are doing all five in English. Some of us are just doing Chronological or kids and we're just loving God's word even more but we were talking about having faith as small as a mustard seed that it can move mountains. So, each…two of the girls wanted to pray tonight. So, sister do you want to start? What did you want to share? That people would have faith in God and that people would love God even more and let Him be in their heart. Jesus thank you for the day. Thank you for everything you have done. Thank you for being our God. And I want to…I want people to let you into their heart. In Jesus’ name. Amen. OK sister. Jesus thank you for the day that we have faith in us and faith in Jesus and that everyone starts praying and those who don't pray now pray. And have Jesus where? In our faith, in their heart. That's right. We pray all this in Jesus name. Amen. Love and blessings everybody. Bye. Bye. Bye.  

Hi, my name is Luanne from Texas. I just want to say thanks. This journey so far has been so good and so revealing. It's been so wonderful to watch the creation and then the de-creation and with the New Testament seeing what the recreation could be. I'm just so grateful. I'm grateful for Brian for this. I'm grateful to the community who’s reading it along with me and it's just been so healing after 2020. I'm just so grateful. So, Lord I just ask that for those who are weary, come. Come to the Bible. Sit with us and learn and you will find much joy. I ask this in our most holy savior's name, Jesus. Amen.

Good morning fellow DABbers this is Sally in Massachusetts Amazed by Grace it's January 27th and I am so thankful this morning that I listened as I do most every day to the DAB and so blessed by the word of God and so encouraged today as we read of Moses and Aaron and pharaoh and the people, how God works through everyone to carry out His plans and purposes. He worked through pharaoh. He worked through Moses. He worked through Moses mother and father. He accomplishes purposes through people and He's accomplishing His purposes in and through each of us day by day as we yield to Him. And I'm just so thankful that we worship a God of power, a God of a plan, a God with purposes. And I am so thankful that we have this family to worship God together, to encourage and strengthen each other. Thank you, Daughter of the King from Tennessee. I so appreciated your prayers and your thoughts today. And Pamela from Pennsylvania how easy it is. I have also often been guided by fear instead of faith in making decisions. And dear brother McQueen from Utah. Lord we pray Your comfort to this family. Thank You for Betsy Lopez and the wonderful grandma she was to him. We pray Your comfort to this family at this time. And Lord we thank You that although world at times feels like it's out of control You are God alone from before time began and You are on Your throne because You are God alone. Increase our faith in You Lord we pray and thank You in Jesus’ powerful name.

Hello Daily Audio Bible my name is Gail and I'm calling from Las Vegas. I'm calling in response to a boy that just called in about his grandma, Grandma Lopez who was in a car accident and he wanted to get the word out to us about his grandma. I am so proud of you for the courage that you showed to call in and let us know what happened to your grandma. I felt that you two had an amazing relationship and you were so close. And I bet you miss her. I really know that you miss her because you wanted to make a lasting memory and let us know that she died, and it was important to you to get the word out. So, I applaud your courage sweet boy and I just wanted to say that we hear you and we are praying for you. Keep calling in. Keep calling in. We love to hear from you. Bye for now.

Good morning Daily Audio Bible I'm calling in to speak to Golda McQueen. Young man your courage to send in the message to speak to the people about your grandmother and her legacy of love in your life touched my heart in so many ways to remember my own grandmother. I want to know not only Betsy Lopez will be remembered today for her own life but for the life that she poured into you. And I just want to encourage you with two verses that I thought of when I heard you speaking. Exodus 4:12. So, go Golda. I will be with you. When you speak and I will give you the words to say. And in Acts Jesus himself came to Paul and encouraged him to keep speaking. He said in acts 18 9 and 10 during the night Paul had a vision and the Lord said to him don't be afraid and don't stop talking to people I am with you and no one will be able to hurt you. Many of my people are in the city. Heavenly Father I pray You pour out a triple blessing upon Golda McQueen as he goes to the funeral of his grandmother whom he loved so much and wants her to be remembered and it made such an impact to remember my own grandmother I know prayed for me, but I never got to grow up with her. So, I…I thank you Golda. You have touched my heart in ways you'll never know until we see each other in heaven. God bless you son.

Hello, my name is Richard today is my first day listening in several years. I just listened to February 27th recording that I was blessed by. Some of you may remember I was Richard from Mississippi back in 2018 I went through a divorce. I moved back home to Arkansas. That’s where I stay at now. I work for my dad part time. I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm trying to get back into reading the word and listening to DAB every morning. So, I covet your prayers that you would pray for me as I establish a new habit and to know the Lord. Bless each and every one of you in Jesus’ name.

Good morning this is Radiant Faith in Georgia. I'm listening on January the 27th and I just heard a young man from Nevada I believe his name was Golda McQueen. He's nine years old and he was on his way…I hope I can get this out. He was on his way to his grandma's funeral. I'm a grandma and this just really touched my heart, the love that he had for her. He said that it's hard to get messages out from where he lives and he's only nine years old but let me tell you something, we heard you loud and clear. We heard the love that you had for your grandma and I just pray, and I believe that Jesus let her hear you. Oh, Lord I know she was proud of you.

[nad-zeta]

Hii! I’ve been meaning to ask for a mashup! Appearance wise, I’m look like a pretty basic white person (brown hair, eyes, and freckles), but I’m hella small and have a lot of curves (which looks shit when you’re small). I’m also way too pale a I don’t usually sunbathe. I love dancing, baking, reading (be it FF or literature) and I love sports of all kinds (except basketball... height tingz). Part 1 🍎

Part 2 🍎 I’m asexual, Aquarius and ENTP. I do not have a lot of sexual experience, as the boys I liked would turn a blind eye to my PDA dislike (and my asexuality). I’m a pretty outgoing person who tries to get a long with everyone (and I usually apologize immediately after I’ve done smth offending). Cuddles are a big yes if 1. The person is alright with it 2. It’s not in public. Loneliness is not smth I can cope with, and I am fine with quietly sitting beside someone of they are busy   Part 3 🍎 Due to my nonexistent love life, I can only refer to my 2D life lmao. I usually go for the arseholes with character development 😬 (Gaara from Naruto is prob the best instance). I’m very nurturing as i was always the oldest in my classes & friend groups. Age is also my biggest insecurity. Due to a lot of moving across the globe, I have lost quite a few yrs of education, 17 & in grade 8. I’m pretty smart tho (grade school teacher thought I’m gifted 🤡), but I can get arrogant real quick Part 4 🍎 coz I can’t summarize for life. My other fault is that I’m too honest & blunt. I mentioned that i wanna get along with everyone, but if their opinion opposes mine (& & they criticise me for it), then I’ll leave them be. Having relationships based on lies is not smth I want. So I usually like engaging in debates I don’t know which fandoms you make matchups of (do we even pick???). In case I have to choose, I’d go with Ikevamp. I’m hella sorry for all these parts & thank you 🙏

Hi hi, love ❤❤thank you so so much for the request! 🦋Hehe, I’m so sorry for taking too long with it! I hope you enjoy this love and I hope you have a wonderful day! ❤🦋🌻So I was thinking Theo/Motzart  for a while, but then I saw you were an ENTP, and I made up my mind!🌻🦋

So I match you with................ Isaac

The first time you meet Isaac was when all the residents were gathered in the dining room the morning after you arrived. Sabastian had come to fetch you for breakfast, and the second you walked through the dining room door, Comte strode to your side and introduced you to everyone. You were rather social, so of course, you chatted away with the residences.

Breakfast was going well, until out of the corner of your eye, you could see Arthur and Dazai bullying poor shy Isaac. They had placed an apple in front of him and teased him. Isaac shot them an irritated look all while going as red as an apple at the embarrassment. You didn’t know why but you couldn’t help but come up for the hedgehog, so you gave Arthur and Dazai a piece of your mind. 

Napoleon who had watched the whole scene unfold, smiled his brotherly smile and invited you to help him and Isaac at the makeshift school. The former emperor of France low key gave you no choice as before you knew it you were in a carriage on your way to the fountain where they gave the class.

Some children came up to you and asked you for help with some science problems they were having. You took one look at the problem, and you wanted to dig a hole and hide in it. Isaac made his way up to you and the children. and upon seeing the distress on your face, he decided to answer the question for you. You were feeling rather low after that, as education and your age has always been your biggest insecurity

You opted to play with the children instead of teaching, as you loved sports and physical activities. You seemed to have impressed the children with your athletic skills as soon they were fighting over who would have you in their teams. You spent the rest of the afternoon cheerfully playing with the children. As the sun began to set, one by one, the children made their ways back home; eventually, it was only you, Isaac and Napo left.

Napoleon smiled and told you that he was going to get a coach to take the three of you home. It was now only you and Isaac sitting on the fountain wall waiting for Napo to return. Surprisingly enough, Isaac broke the silence. Cherry eyes gazed at you, “Why did you look so distressed when the children asked you for help?” You had told him about how you travelled the world sacrificing your education, and that you often felt insecure about your age. To this he simply nodded, after a few more moments of silence Isaac spoke up again, this time sending you a meek smile, “What if I taught you, that way the month spent here won’t be wasted, and you won’t fall behind on your schoolwork?” You smiled at the kind offer and immediately accepted.

Now every evening after supper, you and Isaac would sit together in the library. Isaac would teach you a variety of subjects ranging from maths and science to English and history. You honestly didn’t feel so alone or insecure, as Isaac was a non-judgemental patient teacher. To be honest, he did such a good job teaching you, that even Jean decided to join the classes. 

After class, you would always make you and Isaac some tea and chat his ears off well into the night. Not that he minded. He didn’t know much about human behaviour or interactions, so just as he taught you, you taught him. As time passed, you and Isaac got to know each other better and better. You found that Isaac had started opening up more and more to you, and your opinion of him when you first met had completely changed.

And Isaac found himself falling more in love with you with each passing day. He loved that you were a fellow intellectual and reader. His favourite thing in the world to do is spend time with you as you both sit quietly in the room together each reading their own book. He loves the little debates the two of you often engage in, and he found himself growing more and more as a person every second he spent with you.

In your free time you and Isaac still help out at Napos school, and although thanks to Isaac, you definitely had the knowledge to teach the children, you always opt to play sports with them instead. At some point, Isaac saw you having so much fun he found himself joining in. Napoleon would always watch the two of you cuties with a found gaze knowing that his friend had finally found someone who could bring him out of his shell and grow into his full potential.

You quickly found out about Isaacs difficult transition from human and vampire and the consequences of that. You also knew that your friend would often go hours without eating as he would be so absorbed in his research. Naturally, the nurturing side of your personality started to show. You made it your personal mission to bake Isaac yummy snacks to make sure his vampire urges are well under control. Although Isaac has never said as much, he loves it when the sounds of your soft footsteps approach his room, and his senses are suddenly filled with the scent of freshly baked goods. He can’t help but softy smile as you gently knock the door and peek into his room. Isaac freaken LOVES you cooking and is always a very happy hedgehog whenever he is nibbling on the snacks you make for him.

Another thing Isaac absolutely loves is when you plonk yourself down in his room and read. He loves the company even though neither of you is talking, as he hates to admit it, but before you arrived, he always felt a sharp pain in his chest that he could never place. And after you arrived, he finally had the word for it, Loneliness. He can’t help but smile a little brighter and feel a little happier whenever you are around him.

One day Comte handed you an invitation to a ball that a friend of his was throwing. You were so excited you decided to run straight to Isaac’s room to ask him to be your date. You loved dancing, and you could imagine nothing better than to spend the evening dancing with Isaac. The second you told Isaac about the ball his face dropped into a frown as he softly confessed that he had never learned how to dance. “Then ill teach you,” you exclaimed brimming with excitement.

You spent many days teaching Isaac how to dance in the garden, and finally, the day of the ball had arrived. Isaac was determined to confess his feeling for you that night. He met you in the mansion foyer, and you honestly took his breath away. The two of you made your way to the ball and spent a large portion of the evening, happily chatting and dancing. 

Finally, Isaac worked up the courage to take your hand and lead you outside onto the balcony. Cherry eyes seemed to peer deep into your soul as he told you he loved you. Honestly, you were overjoyed. You too had long ago fallen in love with him but due to your lack of experience in the field of romance, thanks to boys who never respected your boundaries, you were rather clueless when it came down to it. Isaac smiled and nuzzled his nose against you as he said that the two of you could figure it out together.

Your relationship was very much based on honestly and open communication. 

Isaac honestly didn’t mind that you were asexual if anything he loved it cause this boy loves to cuddle. The two of you are almost always cuddling or snuggling each other. 

Although your title has changed from friend to girlfriend almost, nothing changed between the two of you. As to be honest, the pair of you were acting like a married couple before you even entered into a relationship. Of course, the biggest difference between then and now is, lots of cuddles and kisses.

Isaac loves nothing more in the whole world than to hold you in his arms, as the two of you read together. When you are not around him he feels lonely and empty, so he tries his best to spend as much time with you as possible

This boy will 100% shower you with endless amounts of affection every moment he can get. Whether it’s coming up behind you to hug and nuzzle your neck as you bake yummy goodies or whether you are just quietly reading. It is also not uncommon for the two of you to get into tickle fights especially if you beat Isaac in the sports you are playing together.

Other potential matches……………Theo

Hope you enjoyed this, dear! Sending ya lots of hugs! ❤🌻🌺

[colourlys]

A commentary on Elsa

I’m asexual, and I am going to unabashedly support asexual Elsa while countering some arguments as to why “asexual Elsa cannot respectfully be a thing.”

“If Elsa asexual, then she can’t be a lesbian.” Asexual, in addition to being its own this, is a large umbrella term for those on the asexual spectrum. There are a variety of asexuals who experience a variety of interests, from none to a little to somewhat, but never truly falling over into the active sexual/romantic groups such as those who identify as active sexuals. You can be sexual and later identify as asexual, or you can be asexual and later identify as a sexual. Whilst asexual, you can also still identify as heterosexual (opposite sex and typically biological), bisexual (either sex), gay and lesbian (same sex), pansexual (all sexes including trans), and anything else I may have forgotten. In other words, you can be asexual and lesbian. Elsa can be both. She doesn’t have to be. But she can be.

“If you support an asexual Elsa, you’re a homophobic, cis, probably white person, who just doesn’t want to see a lesbian - or a strong lesbian!” Actually, I’m asexual, I am cis with slight body dismorphia (who actually likes boobs and menstruation anyway?) but I’ve reincarnated as either sex numerous times so it doesn’t matter what I am now cause this shop is closed, I lean towards pan, and the only thing you’ve conclusively gotten right was I am white (though some of my recent ancestors were not white). But I fail to see what my whiteness has to do with a white character. Those are some pretty large generalizations you made there. Would you like to discuss your own phobias whilst accusing a large portion of people who are none of the above, as all of the above? (Your unnecessary racist tendencies in this situation don’t necessarily have to be included, though they are noted.)

“But asexuals have acceptance.” From whom? Pretending we don’t exist in a group isn’t acceptance. Hearing: “It’s just a phase, you’ll want to be in a relationship later.” “But what about children?” “Do you want to die alone?” “Maybe you just haven’t been with the right person, if you know what I mean?” “One night with me and I can fix that for you. ;)” “Aw, that’s so sad.” “I hope you get better.” None of that is acceptance. Hearing: “But you have acceptance!” Isn’t acceptance when we’re not being accepted. Dreading telling ANYONE you’re asexual, having to explain it, getting the looks, the talks, the disgust, the confusion, and then to receive it all over again from the allegedly supportive LGBT+ community isn’t acceptance. Knowing that all of our icons will be sexualized to please the sexuals/romantics one day isn’t acceptance. Hoping one day we’ll find happiness and love with someone else because how can we be anything other than secretly sad and lonely as asexuals, isn’t acceptance. Pretending that we are all secretly in the closet and oppressed and that we really want to have unlimited relationships and sex with someone of the same or either sex, isn’t acceptance. You can be condescending while being positive towards somebody, you know? “We accept you” is just platitudes until you actually show it towards someone. Some of us have received little to no respect from any community. I have personally received little to no respect from any community. Pretending my sexuality is something to be undiscussed and covered by a rug does not make you accepting of myself or the asexual community.

“The LGBT+ community needs an icon!” Oh, so you’re finally admitting that the “you’re valid” campaigns for asexuals and aromantics within the LGBT+ community is a farce? Because if Elsa is asexual, and asexuals are part of the LGBT+ community, then Elsa is already an LGBT+ icon. She just isn’t the icon you wanted.

“Lesbians needs an icon!” Yes, lesbians need an icon, but Elsa does not need to be your icon. You want Elsa as your icon. There is, in fact, a difference between generalized needs and personal wants. And Elsa, at present, is sexually unidentified or sexually asexual. Though she can still be a lesbian, she is, at present, not sexualized. As in, she is not running around, making out, cuddling, or having sex with people of any gender or identity, nor is she openly desiring such a relationship.

“But her clothes are sexualized!” You sexualize her clothes. I wear low shirts and blouses even though I’m not personally fond of my boobs because I want to keep the nasty things known as collars away from my neck. I don’t personally like wearing dresses (though I think many are cute) because I don’t like anything restricting my constant movement, but I do wear form fitting clothes, and like doing up my eyes because I have lovely long lashes. I think I’m pretty. Just because I’m asexual doesn’t mean I don’t want to look nice for myself. I have no other motives to look nice other than for myself. I am literally impressing nobody but me. Not you, not him, not her, not them. Please do not hit on me. Please do not think I want to hook up with someone just because I care about my appearance. The same can, matter of factly, be said for other people and fictional characters. Don’t sexualize characters like they’re pieces of meat to have their clothes ripped off. Sound familiar?

“She interacted with another woman!” I interact with other women daily. Other women interact with other women daily. Other men interact with other men daily. Interaction does not immediately equal sexual and romantic attraction. Being sexy, attractive, or LGBT+ does not increase this possibility either. Friendships can exist WITHIN reality and fiction WITHOUT needing to be sexualized. It would actually be very healthy for asexual, lesbian, or asexual lesbian Elsa to be friends with another woman without the need to force her into a relationship another person or woman.

“Let It Go is an LGBT+ anthem!” And it can be, but it was not written solely for the LBGT+ person or community. It was meant for everyone. Yes, even heterosexuals and cisgendered people. It was written for everyone, to relate to a multitude of issues, especially mental health and self care, as it was meant to relate to Elsa and her point in life. Me, an asexual, who did not sexualize the meaning of the song, took it as an inspiration to not be so scared, to not be so anxious, to not shy away from what I know I can and need to do in my life to function, to actually show myself to others and accept myself even though that is hard. It has helped me grow as a person and the things I am doing now, you would have never imagined me here 10 years ago. You have no idea how much Let It Go means to me on a psychological level. It can be an anthem for LGBT+ all you want, but it is not yours or their sole anthem. It is a shared anthem. And it is the same with Show Yourself. Saying LGBT+ are the only people for whom these songs apply is as dumb as that one kid who told me it wasn’t fair that I liked blue and it is my favorite color because it was their favorite color. We can share it, you know, it doesn’t belong to any one person or group except Disney.

“People need to respect others sexualities!” Yes, they do. Unless they’re possibly or confirmed asexual, then you can whine and moan all you want because asexuality isn’t valid compared to the rest of the LGBT+ community, amiright? /sarcasm

“But asexuals don’t need an icon!” Did you read any of this? Did you read the part where all of our icons are made sexual? Did you read the part where discrimination towards myself and our community exists? Did you read the part about respecting others sexualities? Have you thought about this? Because I’ve been thinking about it for years. You know, since this asexuality of mine isn’t a phase (there are now adults younger than I’ve identified as asexual) and I would like to have one icon who doesn’t end up in a sexual relationship that is greatly dependent on the “sexual” aspect rather than the “mutually respecting and dependency” aspect, you know, the kind of relationships asexuals such as myself usually drift towards if we drift towards relationships.

In closing You can want lesbian Elsa all you want. That does not give you the right to throw myself, others, or the asexual community into the dirt because you didn’t get your way.

[quentinblack]

Australia Magizoo (link to full story on FF.Net)

Australia Magizoo really was quite something.

Their day had begun with an extremely filling breakfast that could’ve possibly put even Hogwarts to shame, as Ron loaded up on copious amounts of poached eggs, bacon and sausages.

Hermione had settled for a few freshly made French pastries and a slice of toast with something called Vegemite spread onto it. Ron was not sure what exactly Vegemite was, but it had an awful smell to it and did not look up to too much cop either – his girlfriend reassuring him that it was just a type of yeast extract did not particularly sell it either. It looked like it had been scooped out of the bottom of a cup in one of Professor Trelawney’s tea-reading classes.

Following their stomachs being filled by their respective breakfasts, they had spent nearly the entire day exploring the gigantic grounds of Woollahra’s wizarding tourist attraction – and Ron could see why it was such an attraction.

The park was filled with almost every creature that you could possibly name, with a large section even being dedicated to housing non-magical creatures of interest too - such as lions, giraffes and even wild polar bears in a sub-zero arctic section!

A lot of the magizoo’s star attractions were dedicated to beasts that Ron and Hermione had been fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to encounter before. He had never really considered how lucky they’d actually been over the last seven years, at least in terms of seeing such a wide array of creatures.

Children and adults alike were crowding round for a glimpse of a phoenix in the flesh, which Ron shrugged off as nothing too exciting, as he’d seen Dumbledore’s one countless times before in their former headmaster’s office– and he’d even been flown out of the Chamber of Secrets by it in second year.

They balked at a massive queue that had formed for rides on the thestrals, with many lucky adults and children very excited at the prospect of riding on a beast that was invisible to them. Hermione read on a sign that outside of Britain the wild populations of thestrals were dwindling quite a lot, so for many non-Brits this would be their first and possibly only chance to ever see, or indeed, not see a thestral, which any British student would obviously just take for granted - they were even used as a mode of transport at Hogwarts!

If they had thought that the queue for the thestrals was large then that paled in comparison to the one for the hippogriffs, as everyone longed to receive a bow from one of the delightful, but deadly part-horse, part-eagle creatures. They did not linger there too long, as again, unlike much of the world’s population they had also had their fair share of experiences with hippogriffs.

The next portion of the park following the hippogriffs was dedicated to the world’s deadliest beasts – and after Ron hastily hurried Hermione away from the acromantulas, they spent a while looking at the magnificent Antipodean Opaleye dragon. The purple dragon was a New Zealand-native and as such, one of the more locally sourced creatures in the entire magizoo, although they soon noticed that the next part of the tour was actually dedicated entirely to the magical creatures of Australia.

At first they were introduced to the bunyips which were based in a large swamp. They were peculiar creatures, with big tusks, flippers for feet and large bushy tails. A sign near them spoke of how over the years there had been several infamous incidents where rogue bunyips had got loose and attacked muggles, with the beasts coming out at night in the cover of darkness to attack small children, women or defenceless household pets.

One of the world’s last living muldjewangk was housed in a lake not far from the bunyips. The muldjewangk, who did not surface whilst they were at the lake, were described as kind of like a cross between giant squid and merpeople.

It was said that in centuries gone by hordes of muldjewangk terrorised muggle fisherman all over the Indian Ocean, but in the last hundred years they had become an endangered species thanks partially to pollution in muggle waters, but mostly due to wizarding-poachers hunting them for their teeth and blood, with both apparently fetching a pretty penny due to their rarity and variety of uses.

It was just as they were walking away from the lake, somewhat disappointed at not glimpsing a sight of the muldjewangk, that they bumped into Tezza, who was the porter that had taken their bags upon arrival and asked about You Know Who’s nose. It seemed that Tezza performed an array of roles at the hotel, one of which also seemingly involved working with the creatures themselves.

“Alright guys?!” he chirped excitedly when he spotted them, as they said hello and made some small talk.

“Didn’t get to see the muldjewangk? Don’t be too down guys, they don’t like coming out during the day much anyways. The kids here are always devo at missing out like, but let me show you some little buggers that I think you’ll both be stoked on seeing.”

They followed Tezza over to some large gum trees, which had magical protections placed just in-front of them, indicating how dangerous whatever beasts they housed must be.

“Now these little ones might look cute, but trust me, they’re fierce little bastards especially if they’re after a bit of grub,” he said, as he pointed to what looked like a tiny little bear climbing the tree nearest to them.

“Isn’t that a koala bear?” a confused Hermione asked, as Tezza burst out laughing.

“They might look like koalas, but take a look for yourself,” Tezza said, before waving his wand and erecting a human-like mannequin on the ground about 10 metres directly below the creature. It noticed and after a brief second of contemplation it instantly threw itself down through the sky, claws first, soon landing on the head of the mannequin, tearing it apart with both its paws and teeth.

“Bloody hell!” Ron swore.

“You can say that again, mate!” Tezza replied. “That little bugger is called a drop bear and well… it lives up to its name,” he added, as the little beast tore furiously at the prop, before Tezza conjured it up a few dead rats for it to feast on instead as a treat for its part in the show.

“Do they mind being here… at the magizoo… with all these people ogling at them?” Hermione asked Tezza.

“The drop bears?”

Ron felt a little awkward as he guessed the train of thought and line of questioning that his girlfriend would have for Tezza.

“Yes, the drop bears, but, well, all of the creatures and beasts you house here really. Do they like it here… rather than being in the wild?”

“To tell you the truth Miss Granger,” Tezza said, as he paused for a brief moment before continuing. ”For most of them now there ain’t no wild no more anyway... what with all the poachers like, and it ain’t as easy as it was years ago keeping ‘em away from exposure to muggoes neither. It’s the same way most the muggo animals are going too. Woollahra’s the best place for ‘em I say.”

Hermione seemed content enough with Tezza’s response, although Tezza was hardly going to turn round and admit the creatures all hated it there if they did anyway.

The magizoo worker began guiding them away from the drop bear enclosure and further along to a stretch of grassland in the distance.

“Course, we don’t house any beasts that are sentient,” Tezza continued, as Hermione nodded along in approval. “You won’t find no centaurs, vampires or werewolves here… ‘tho all the guests would be clamouring to see ‘em if they were, as you can imagine, like.

Fancy that ehh? Seeing an actual centaur or werewolf in the flesh, now that would be proper gnarly!”

Ron was once more left feeling a bit spoilt by his education.

He couldn’t quite believe that Tezza had never seen a werewolf or centaur in the flesh, at Hogwarts they’d had a werewolf and a centaur among the faculty at varying intervals of his stint at school.

“What about house elves?” Ron asked nervously, as he stole a quick glance at Hermione, who looked even more interested in Tezza’s response to the latest question posed to him, as they walked past a giant, yellow warning sign that read:

“CAUTION: YOU ARE NOW APPROACHING THE YARA-MA-YHA-WHO ENCLOSURE. THIS BEAST IS EXTREMELY DANGEROUS! DO NOT ENGAGE IT IF IT ESCAPES! CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF 15 MUST BE ACCOMPANIED BY A RESPONSIBLE PARENT OR GUARDIAN!”

“You certainly won’t find no house-elves here!” Tezza said in a slightly bemused tone. “Not working for us anyway… course we get lots of rich families from America, India and France come and visit who bring theirs along for the trip… ya’ kno’, funny thing is I’d never even seen one in the flesh before I started working here myself!”

“Why is that?” Hermione asked. “Are house-elves against the law in Australia?” she added, with a hopeful tone in her voice.

Tezza audibly chuckled.

“Against the law? We’d have to bloody have some for ‘em to be illegal! Never really caught on down here since nobody could bloody afford one. I’m sure whoever cooked up the idea for this place could have their pick of them now though, like, you know I-

“WHAT’S THAT?!” Ron burst out, as Hermione instinctively grabbed his hand, as she too saw a giant bear-like creature waddling towards them.

It was just their luck.

The one time they visit the magizoo was the time that the extremely dangerous creature broke out.

Why was it always them?!

At least Tezza would know what to do.

He didn’t look in the slightest bit afraid, which reassured Ron that he must know how to handle the very dangerous looking beast heading towards them.  

“What’s what?” a bemused looking Ted asked them, as Hermione and Ron both drew their wands, which confused him even more.

“Over there!” Hermione gasped, as she pointed over to the furry giant which was getting closer to them, albeit at a fairly slow pace.

“HA-HA! You can’t mean… oh you think that silly bugger is the dangerous beast that sign was warning yous about?” he asked with a patronising look on his tanned face, as Ron nodded awkwardly.

“HA-HA! You wait until all of the lads hear about this one!” he blurted out, with a furious grin washed across his face. “Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger frightened off their rocker by a silly old yowie! COME HERE YA BIG WALKING CARPET!” Tezza shouted, as the yowie responded to his call and quickened his pace, although only slightly.

“They’re clever creatures, yowie’s, but they’re bloody pussies. Wouldn’t hurt a mozza, even if it was biting on one of their balls!” Tezza joked, as he stretched his arms out for the yowie to give him a hug.

The yowie towered over him, it must’ve been at least seven foot, but he showed no fear when it barked softly and wrapped its furry arms right round his thin-frame, almost lifting him off of the ground with enthusiasm as it hugged him.

“We call him Chewy,” Tezza said excitedly, as the yowie released him. “You know, like the wookie from Star Wars.”

“What’s Star Wars?” Ron asked blankly.

“Only one of the greatest bloody movies of all time, mate!” Tezza replied indignantly.

“I’ve never watched any movies,” Ron responded.

“You ain’t ever seen a single movie in ya’ life?”

Tezza looked in a state of shock, perhaps he was a half-blood or a muggle-born and had grown up with the muggle television.

Ron shook his head in response.

“Blimey. Where did you find this guy?!” Tezza quizzed Hermione.

“It’s kind of a long story,” she replied, before smirking a little at both Tezza and then Ron himself.

“Now you run along now Chewy,” Tezza ordered to the yowie. “Shouldn’t be out here near the yara-ma-yha-who anyway you daft git,” he added, as he poked his bear-like companion. The yowie obeyed, sauntering off in the opposite direction after uttering what sounded like it could only be a laugh at Tezza.

“Oh my goodness,” Hermione mouthed, seemingly noticing something in the distance. “Is that… is that…

“Too right-o, Miss Granger,” Tezza replied. “That is a yara-ma-yha who.”

Ron saw it out of the corner of his eye, rested on a similar tree to the one that the drop bear had been grasping to before it flew out of the sky.

The yara-ma-yha-who was a slightly slimy, amphibious looking red creature that can’t have been much bigger than the average goblin.

Its dark blood-red body resembled a frightening cross between a frog, an octopus and a common garden gnome.

It was truly hideous.

It hung to the tree by its tiny red hands, but it also had thin, slippery suckers on the rear of its body which it used to swing around the tree too, almost like a monkey would do with its tail.

“That little bugger is damn-near the most deadly beast in this entire magizoo. If I had to face the dragon or that thing without a wand – I’d choose the dragon every bloody time… you wanna kno’ why?” Tezza asked, pausing slightly for effect.

Ron suspected that he would tell them the answer whether they wanted to hear it or not, but nonetheless he humoured Tezza all the same.

“Alrite, I’ll tell you why… you run into a hungry dragon on a bad day, it’ll smoke you alrite… but dragons don’t play with their food… a dragon will roast ya’ long before it thinks about eating ya’ to stop ya’ from runnin’ away… but these things… mate… ya kno’ what these things do to ya? It uses those suckers to drain you of your blood, but not enough to kill ya’… na’, it takes just enuff to weaken ya’ and keep ya’ within its grasp… then it will swallow ya’ whole… they can swallow up to four time their body weight… but that’s not the last of it, oh na’, wouldn’t be so bad if it was, like, but that’s only the start of it… ya’ see once it falls asleep it pumps oxygen right through the victim’s brain and airwaves… acts kinda like an oxygen tank in there… to try and keep ya alive… then as it gradually comes out of its slumber it slowly regurgitates ya’… then… when it wakes up… it starts the process all over again. They can sometimes keep their prey alive for over four days before finally killing it for good.”

Hermione said nothing, but she had a look of utter disgust and horror on her face.

“And has one of those…things… ever actually escaped?” Ron managed to muster.

“Oh Christ no!” Tezza jibed. “They’d probably shut the whole place down if one of those got out and killed a poor little ankle biter or somethin’. Can you imagine the bad press we’d-

“ATTENTION ALL STATIONS!”

A loud, slightly muffled booming voice came out from what looked like a small, portable muggle radio on Tezza’s belt.

“WHO WAS THE LAST OF YOUS TO HAVE SEEN OUR BRITISH VISITORS? I REPEAT, WHO WAS THE LAST OF YOUS TO HAVE SEEN OUR BRITISH VISITORS? OVER!”

Tezza smiled slightly.

“Funny you should ask that, Zoe,” he said into the radio. “I’m with ‘em right now. Over.”

“Is that you Terrence? Over.”

“Sure as hell is, Zoe, you see-

“What’s your nearest assembly point? Over.”

“Well… we’re just by the old Yara-ma-yha-who enclosure… so I’d say…erm… ah ya! The Great Barrier Reef café. Over.”

“That’s great. Head over with them now… I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. Over.”

“No worries, Zoe, mate. I’ll bring ‘em right down. Over,” he said into the radio, as he started heading east, then motioned with his hand for them to follow him.

The Great Barrier Reef café turned out to be a massive muggle-style aquarium, with a sizeable restaurant in the back serving up mostly seafood-based cuisine. The aquarium hosted mostly exotic fish found in the seas of Sydney, but there were also other creatures like sharks and turtles housed there too.

Tezza stayed with them in a waiting area of the main reception, which housed a large open-tank filled with different types of rays, which people, mostly children, were able to reach in and feed if they so pleased.

Whoever had designed the hotel had really gone all in on the muggle-theme, as this particular section even had a large boxed television raised up high on the wall, with some kind of muggle wildlife program playing.

“That man on the television. Is he a muggle?” Hermione asked, as the blonde, burly man in a khaki outfit stalked a large crocodile whilst he talked to the camera.

“Who? Steve Irwin?! He’s only one of the most famous muggoes in all of Australia! Surprised you ain’t heard of him,” he replied.

“But how… but how is he able to avoid being killed by that crocodile? If he’s not a wizard?” Ron quizzed, as he too began watching on at the TV in surprise.

“Beats me, mate. But he ain’t in no danger – those crocco’s love him,” Tezza said with a wry smile on his face, as he placed his left hand into the water and reached down. “Why… Steve-o up there’s in no more danger with one of those crocs than I am with this little sting-ray,” he added, as he caressed one of the floating flat creatures with his fingers.

“AH YA C***!!!!” Tezza blurted out, splashing water everywhere as he quickly removed his hand from the tank.

“The little bastard stung me!” he exclaimed in outrage.

[icecoldflames]

Chapter 7 - The Mystery of Sanders Castle

Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

***

1820, England

The carriage bounced through the road and Logan’s body was buzzing with excitement. This day couldn't have come slower. One month was too long to be away from Virgil.

They had exchanged letters throughout that time, though. They would put letters in a hollowed out tree in the woods between his kingdom and Betrug and would occasionally go for a horse ride to collect them. It was as good as they were going to get. They wouldn’t dare meet each other in the woods in case prying eyes happened upon them.

But now Logan was in the royal carriage on his way to Betrug. He hadn’t been before but, from what Virgil wrote in his letter, it was colourful and beautiful and lively. It would be a nice change from his own grey kingdom.

Logan closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, imagining going for walks through their kingdom like how Philomena and Virgil did. It sounded so exciting and different. He wished his own kingdom could work like that.

As soon as the carriage made its way into the Scharf’s kingdom, Logan was blown away by how bright Betrug was. There seemed to be large trees and greenery and flowers everywhere he turned. The citizens seemed happy and were wearing colourful clothes, the houses stained blue, red, yellow, and green.

However, upon closer inspection, Logan noticed rotten walls, sunken in rooves, and very few glass windows. The buildings in his kingdom were made of stone and, while bland and grey, were at least sturdy and kept out the cold.

The carriage made its way past the large pond in the middle of the kingdom where there were probably two guards for every person lounging on the bank with blankets and picnic baskets.

Soon, Logan was at the entrance of the massive stone castle which looked regal and strong compared to the little wooden houses surrounding it. King Eric, Queen Isolde, Philomena, Virgil, and their three other siblings were at the doorway, looking very menacing. Is this what Philomena and Virgil felt when his family greeted them when they stepped out of the carriage?

The coachman opened the door for him and Logan stepped out, back straight and his head up. Just what his parents expected. The words his mother told him before he left rang in his ears: “You must be a good prince in front of the Scharf’s. Being with your future wife’s family, you must be extra careful and vigilant.”

Logan had been conflicted—he had always been careful and a good prince. Was there something that could suggest he wasn’t? Through most of the carriage ride, he had gone through anything that could have possibly tarnished his image as the perfect prince. But nothing came to mind.

“Logan!” King Eric bounded down the steps with a smile on his face. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Logan made his way to the king, not daring to look at Virgil in case his face would go pink or his heart would start hammering so loudly that King Eric would hear.

Logan bowed, “it’s a pleasure to meet you as well, King Eric.”

King Eric patted Logan’s back. “Aw, we don’t need all this formality—we’re all royals here. Just call me Eric.”

Logan would rather jump off a cliff than ever call King Eric Eric. But he smiled anyway, goodnaturedly. “I’m afraid not, Your Majesty, my mother taught me to always address royalty and nobility with their proper titles.”

“What a respectful young man,” Queen Isolde said with a small smile, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around King Eric’s left arm. She glanced over at her children playfully, “some of you ought to take notes.”

Logan was utterly flabbergasted by the informal-ness of it all. His parents wouldn’t be caught dead telling people to call them by their first name or joking with him. It was just another way the Scharf family was different from his own.

Some maids and valets began unloading his things for the five days he would be staying at Virgil and Philomena’s castle.

King Eric gestured for his children to come forward, “come introduce yourself, children.” He lowered his voice, “they are very excited to meet you,” he winked, “it’s not everyday the prince from across the woods comes to visit.”

The youngest one got to Logan first. “Hi Prince Logan, I’m Peter. I can’t wait to have another older brother! Maybe you can play hide-and-go-seek with me,” he pouted.

Logan’s lips quirked upwards but didn’t say anything.

“My name’s Mabel,” Mabel said with a short curtsey. “Glad to make your acquaintance.”

Lillian firmly locked her gaze with Logan before saying, “I’m Lillian. I hope at least you’re tolerable.”

“Uh, thank you?” Logan said, not liking how it sounded like a question.

Philomena smiled and discreetly rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind her, come on, I’d like to show you around Betrug.”

“Be back before tea,” King Eric called out as Philomena and Logan made their way away from the castle and into the bustle of the town.

“Virgil, you go along with them and watch out,” Queen Isolde added in.

“When did I become a personal guard?” Virgil grumbled but walked over to Philomena and Logan nonetheless.

When they were out of earshot, Logan said, “I thought you said that you could walk around your kingdom without any guards?”

Philomena sighed. “You usually can. But, recently, there have been whispers of a resistance.”

“A resistance? What are they possibly upset about?” But then Logan remembered the rotting houses, the cracks in all the wooden buildings…but, if it was about housing, wouldn’t the resistance be created long before that?

Philomena didn’t respond—she just wrung her hands tightly near her stomach. Logan glanced back for a response from Virgil. “They’re upset that Philomena’s marrying you.”

Logan stopped dead in his tracks.

“It’s only a small portion of citizens and they wouldn’t try anything in broad daylight,” Philomena said, but Logan was already spiralling. He knew his kingdom had a bad reputation compared to Betrug, but he didn’t think it was worth creating a resistance. “Do you guys know who they are?”

Virgil shook his head, “No. They’re taking extra precaution to keep everyone’s identity a secret. However,” he lowered his voice, and Logan’s eyes lingered on Virgil’s lips a little too long, “their leader seems to be a woman, Ann, but it’s a pseudonym because there is no one named Ann in this kingdom.”

Logan exhaled, thousands of incidents running through his mind. “Is it possible that the resistance could strike while I’m here?”

“It’s entirely possi—I mean, hey!” Virgil said as Philomena jabbed her elbow in Virgil’s side. “I’m just being honest!”

“You’ll be fine,” Philomena reassured him. “As I said before, nobody would dare try something in broad daylight. The resistance’s views are the minority.”

“Do you have a percentage on that?” It would be comforting just to see how little the population hated him. Unless they were lying and there were more people who hated him. In that case, he was comfortable in staying ignorant on the exact numbers.

As they continued through Betrug, Logan could feel the underlying question just waiting to be brought up by one of them as soon as they were completely alone. What are we going to be doing about the wedding?

***

“There has to be some way to stop it from going ahead,” Virgil muttered, later that day after tea. They were in a little hidden room near the kitchens which was bustling with activity with supper preparations. It was the perfect noise to hide their voices.

“There is no way to do this without being banished or jailed,” Philomena said, tapping her quil against her journal in thought.

“Or dying,” Virgil added in.

“Or dying. Yes,” Logan nodded, leaning against one of the walls and racking his brain for something useful. “We could…” Logan trailed off and Philomena and Virgil turned to stare at him. “We could fake our deaths.”

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that?” Philomena asked skeptically. “It would have to be convincing and if we don’t want to frame somebody, it’ll have to look like an accident.”

“And it’s not like we can just pretend to fall off a cliff because there has to be a body to prove that we’ve died,” Virgil added in.

“We could bribe someone to be our fake witness,” Logan said again. “Then, they won’t need bodies.”

“But they might think that that poor fellow murdered us. And we’d need to find someone trustworthy enough to not tattle on us and get a greater reward for turning us in,” Philomena said, biting her bottom lip.

If Irwin were still around, Logan knew he would help them in a heartbeat. But if Irwin had been here, would they have kissed all those weeks ago? Perhaps everything had happened how they were supposed to. Logan wasn’t sure he believed in fate but it was the only way he could conclude this train of thought.

Virgil glanced over at him curiously. “What are you thinking about?”

Logan pursed his lips and turned away just slightly. Should he tell Virgil about Irwin? He felt guilty even though there was nothing to be guilty about. He sighed and finally relented, telling Virgil and Philomena about his relationship with Irwin and how Irwin wanted to show him something the night the siblings arrived and how Irwin was fired by his own mother because she saw them holding hands.

“I’ve come to realize that our relationship was kind of one-sided. He helped me get through so many things and I hardly know anything about him…” Logan finished, wincing at how that sounded. He wished he had asked more questions instead of being on the receiving end of them. “But he was my only friend at the time…”

“Your mother fired Irwin?” Philomena repeated.

Logan nodded slowly, Virgil came around and held his hand.

“I think you’ve got it all wrong,” Philomena said, rustling around until she was holding up a page in her journal.

“What are you talking about?” Logan asked, confused. “My mother fired Irwin.

Philomena cleared her throat and read: “While walking through the halls of the Sanders’ palace, I overheard two women in a room. I didn’t try to eavesdrop—but they were whispering rather ferociously. One of them sounded like Queen Alice! She addressed the other woman as Emese.”

The head cook, Logan thought, eyes wide.

“They were obviously arguing and it seemed to be about whether or not to fire a valet. They didn’t mention a name but the queen seemed adamant about keeping him while Emese seemed determined to fire the poor fellow. I didn’t know what the valet’s crime was but, if the queen was defending him, I believed the valet was in the right. I felt bad because I think Emese won the argument.” Philomena looked up from her journal and stared over at Logan. “I don’t think your mother wanted to fire Irwin.”

“But she’s the queen, she could have kept him if she wanted to!” Logan exclaimed, voice breaking.

Virgil squeezed his hand tighter, “Emese and your mother must have been close. She must have told Emese about what she saw and didn’t want to lose their friendship.”

“Again,” Logan said sharply, “she’s the queen.”

Philomena fiddled with her skirt. “If they were close,” she said slowly, “what if Emese knew something your mother didn’t want people to know? Then Queen Alice would want to save her image and fire Irwin so Emese wouldn’t spill.”

“What could Emese possibly have on my mother?” Logan asked out loud, knowing no one really knew the answer but asking it anyway.

“It would have to be something big,” Virgil said. “Really, really, big.”

That night, at supper, Logan felt slightly overwhelmed. It seemed that everyone was talking over each other and someone was always asking him a question which he just barely managed to answer before being thrown another.

“Do you have any pets?” Peter asked, shoving food into his mouth. “We used to have a dog but he died.”

“Uh, no,” Logan shook his head.

“It must be so lonely without siblings,” Mabel said, pity in her eyes. “And no pets to keep you company.”

“I would love to be an only child,” Lillian grumbled, loud enough that only Logan and Virgil managed to hear.

“What’s the food like?” Peter asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“They’re in the same country as us, Pete,” Lillian said with a roll of her eyes. “They’re just across the woods from us.”

“Yeah, the food is pretty much the same,” Logan nodded. Probably better here, he added in his head. Most of their old chefs had quit in the past couple of years and they had had to hire new ones which weren’t as experienced.

“I hear your garden is exquisite,” Mabel said. “Do you have a favourite flower? Mine are roses.”

“Trust Mabel to ask the boring questions,” Lilian grumbled quietly as she ate her food. “She even has the most boring favourite flower. Honestly? Roses?”

“Uh, I like cornflowers,” Logan responded, shrugging.

“How are James and Alice doing?” Queen Isolde asked, cocking her head to the side. Logan’s parents would have someone fired for addressing them by their first name. It even sounded wrong in Logan’s ears.

“Oh, uh, they’re fine. Doing well,” Logan nodded awkwardly. He glanced at Virgil for a split second before bringing his attention back to the queen.

“I heard about all the unrest over there,” Queen Isolde mentioned, pityingly. “Horrible, really. Do tell your parents if they need any help, they can just send us a letter and we’ll try to lend a hand.” She winked, good-naturedly, “us royals have to stick together.”

“Why does your kingdom look so grey and bleh,” Lillian cut in, making a face.

“That’s because almost all of our buildings are made of stone,” Logan explained, noticing the queen giving Lillian a look.

She immediately straightened up and plastered a smile on her face. “I hope you’ll sleep well tonight,” Lillian said in a fake-happy tone.

Mabel turned to her sister, agast. “What did you do to his bedroom?”

“I didn’t do anything. I’m just saying that I hope he has a good night's sleep. I thought I was merely being polite,” Lillian shrugged.

“It is polite unless it’s coming from you,” Philomena said, pointing her fork at Lillian. “What did you do this time? Spiders? Snakes?”

Logan’s eyebrows drew down in confusion. Spiders and snakes in his bedroom?

Lillian rolled her eyes but she was grinning. “Can’t I have any fun around here?”

“Young lady, I want you to clean up whatever mess you made in Logan’s room, you hear me?” Queen Isolde snapped, pointing a finger down the hall.

Lillian stood up. pushed herself away from the table and walked leisurely away. “I was done eating anyway,” she said as she turned the corner and disappeared.

“We’ll assign you a different bedroom,” Queen Isolde said, apologetically. “Lillian thinks these pranks are funny.”

“She rubbed some kind of itch-inducing powder on my pillow last week,” Philomena piped up.

“She put that same stuff on my clothes too,” King Eric exclaimed with a boisterous laugh.

Queen Isolde shook her head, “sometimes she goes too far. I thought she would grow out of it eventually…” she trailed off.

“Mom, she still is a child—let her have her fun,” Mabel said with a sigh. “Dad told me that at seventeen you pranked dad by pretending to be a ghost in the castle for a good eight months. Flour on your face…long, white, nightgown…staring longingly out lit windows…”

Queen Isolde slapped her husband on the arm playfully. “Eric,” she said, but she was smiling, “when did you tell her about that?”

King Eric just laughed and banged the table until the glasses were shaking and the whole table had erupted into laughter. It was the happiest Logan had ever seen a family.

***

The next morning, Philomena and Virgil showed Logan more of the castle. The Scharf’s castle matched its kingdom—falsely bright. Hundreds of paintings adorned the walls that hid the dirty and cracked stone.

Lillian sharply turned the corner and almost banged into Philomena who was in the front. Virgil and Logan stepped away from each other quickly.

Lillian grinned mischievously. “Perfect timing,” she grabbed Philomena’s arm and began dragging her off. “I gotta show you something.”

Once their footsteps had faded away Logan snuggled up closer to Virgil and intertwined their hands together.

Logan smiled contentedly. “What do you suppose she wants to show Philomena?”

Virgil shrugged. “Probably some prank she set up for our mom. I can’t imagine why she needs Philomena.”

“Maybe she wants a witness to her chaos,” Logan replied idly as they continued on down the hall.

Virgil chuckled, “maybe.”

They made their way to the castle’s grounds which were filled with colourful flowers, fountains, and tall, symmetrical, trees.

“Your place is beautiful,” Logan mumbled quietly, touching a rose’s red petal gently.

Virgil didn’t say anything, just squeezed Logan’s hand.

That was when they heard the first shriek. “Help! Someone!”

Virgil dropped Logan’s hand. “Philomena,” he said, eyes wide, and he began running towards the noise.

Logan struggled to catch up but soon they had vaulted over the stone fence and into the woods that separated Logan and Virgil’s kingdoms.

Up ahead, Logan could see a figure in a black cloak with what looked like Philomena with a burlap sack over her head. She wasn’t making any sounds—probably gagged. Then, they turned behind a massive oak tree and vanished.

Virgil skidded to a halt at the tree. “Wh-how?”

“Must be some kind of secret base underground,” Logan panted out, trying to catch his breath. Maybe he should take up jogging. Virgil didn’t even look fazed by the intense running.

Virgil began running his hands along all the oak tree and trees nearby, inspecting the ground. “It looked like they just disappeared into thin air.” He paused before saying quietly, “they wouldn’t…kill her, would they?”

“No,” Logan shook his head confidently even though no one could ever be sure. “If I were the resistance, I’d keep her alive and use her as leverage against your parents.”

Virgil calmed a little at this. “Y-yeah. Of course. Leverage.”

Logan joined with Virgil’s searching, thumping his feet on the ground, listening for anything that sounded suspicious. If they went underground, there had to be some kind of hole to actually get down there. “Do you suppose they have Lillian too?”

Virgil became stricken at the words. “They must.”

“But we only saw one person in a burlap sack. Maybe she managed to get away,” Logan said, thinking, continuing to search for anything that could lead them to Philomena.

“Well maybe we should go find her,” Virgil said. “Maybe Lillian saw whoever took Philomena.”

All of a sudden people in matching black cloaks and cloths over their mouths sprung out from behind the trees and tied their hands behind their backs.

Logan struggled and yelled until someone gagged him as well. He saw Virgil kick someone in the face.

Suddenly, another figure appeared and stood right in front of the now gagged and bound princes. She seemed much more powerful and the others glanced her way. Ann, Logan’s mind supplied.

Ann waved her hand and a person near Virgil untied his gag.

“I’m going to murder you,” Virgil spat out.

“Of course,” Ann replied with a kind nod and Logan couldn’t help but think her voice sounded familiar. She waved her hand again and someone untied Logan’s gag.

“Where is Philomena?” Logan asked, glaring at the woman.

“All in due time, Prince Logan,” Ann said with another nod of her head.

Why is she being so nice? Logan asked himself, curling his hand into a fist. It was infuriating.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked, ice in his voice. “You obviously aren’t here to converse in pleasant conversation with us.”

Ann’s eyes crinkled, smiling. “Ann would like an audience with you.”

Both Virgil and Logan swiveled their heads to look at each other, obviously thinking the same thing: she’s not Ann?

Virgil turned back to not-Ann, biting his lip as he contemplated the woman’s offer.

Logan could practically see the gears turning in Virgil’s head. If Virgil spoke to Ann, there was a chance of getting revenge. “Fine. Ann can come here.”

The woman laughed a little. “Oh no, we’re bringing you to Ann.” She waved her hand again and their bound hands were free once again.

“How are you so sure we’re not going to kill you?” Logan asked.

“I’m not the one you’re upset at.”

“But you’re a part of a group who kidnapped the eldest Princess,” Virgil said.

The woman didn’t even turn around as she made her way to the oak tree. “Go ahead and kill me, but you won’t get to meet Ann.”

Virgil visibly bared his teeth but made no move against the woman as he followed her.

The woman glanced upwards and knocked on the trunk of the tree in an intricate pattern that Logan didn’t even try to commit to memory.

“Aren’t you going to blindfold us or something?” Logan asked.

“Always the practical one,” the woman said with a quiet chuckle.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“There’s no need for one,” the woman responded just as a wooden platform dropped down, rope on either corners.

Logan kept his mouth shut but still couldn’t get the nagging feeling that he knew this woman. He began going through all the possible answers which weren’t that many.

The platform they stood on rose high up the tree trunk until they were brought up to a large branch of the oak tree where a door was carved into the trunk. Inside the tree, another pulley system was set up and they slowly descended underground.

They walked for what seemed like twenty minutes in an underground tunnel until they found themselves under a trapdoor.

Logan had been silently mapping this all out and it wasn’t possible they were still in Betrug. There were either in an unmarked part of the woods or smack dab in the middle of his own kingdom.

They climbed up the ladder and found themselves in a small room, a little lantern on a shelf nearby.

“Good morning, Logan and Virgil,” a new voice (yet somehow familiar as well) said and Logan snapped his head around to meet a new cloaked figure. “Welcome. I’m Ann.”

Rage filled Logan but he pushed it down. He wanted to hear what Ann had to say. There must have been a reason to bring both of them here. He would lull Ann into a false sense of security before striking.

The woman that had taken them here nodded her head and stood behind Ann who was sitting in a chair.

Virgil advanced a couple of steps, hands turned into fists.

“Logan, please restrain your boyfriend,” Ann said in a bored voice, crossing her legs.

It occurred to Logan that she was quite short. He made no move to stop Virgil though, he was more shocked to hear that Ann knew about them being together. The only other person to know was Philomena.

“Where is my sister?” Virgil snapped. “And you should be calling us by our proper titles.”

Ann rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I will.” She snapped her fingers. “Go get Philomena before this one goes feral.”

The woman left through the only door in the room and Logan could glimpse bright sunshine before the door was closed again.

“How could you kidnap my sister,” Virgil growled and lunged for Ann.

Ann stood up and moved out of the way quickly. The height difference was more apparent this time without Ann sitting in a chair.

Virgil flung his right hand out and smacked Ann right across the face.

Ann stood stock still and her eyes narrowed. “Are you quite done, Virgil?”

“I don’t think I am—“ Virgil was cut off as Ann reached up and smacked Virgil across the face.

Logan lost control of his rage. “How dare you! Do you not realize who he is?”

Suddenly, the door opened and the woman poked her head through. “Philomena is refusing to come.”

Ann sighed tiredly. “Always stubborn, the Scharf’s are,” she said in a wry tone.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Logan asked coldly, not liking the way Ann was speaking. He couldn’t imagine anyone speaking to royalty like this.

“Follow me if you want to see Philomena,” Ann said as she walked out the door.

Logan squinted at the sudden natural light streaming through the high-set windows as he made his way through the door. “We’re in our old food storage building…”

“You mean the one with the missing goods?” Virgil asked quietly.

Logan nodded. It was completely empty save for a couple of chairs. It wasn’t very large so he could see what he assumed was Philomena at the end of the room, bound and gagged.

Virgil opened his mouth, but Ann beat him to it. “Let her go.”

“Are you sure?” Someone asked.

“Let. Her. Go,” Ann repeated, this time more firmly.

Once Philomena was out of her bounds and ungagged, she went right into Ann’s face. “I don’t know who you are but I don’t think you just realized the severity of what you just did. Kidnapping me? I should just walk out through that door right now.”

“You won’t,” Ann said calmly, crossing her arms definitely.

“And why won’t I?” Philomena asked, glaring down at Ann.

“Because you’re going to hear what I have to say.”

“And why should we listen to you?” Virgil said, stepping up and standing next to Philomena.

Ann pulled off her hood and pulled down the cloth covering most of her face. “Because you will listen to me.”

And there, standing in front of the three of them, was Lillian Scharf. She glared up at her older siblings, no longer looking like the quarrelsome teenager Logan met back at the castle.

“Lillian?” Philomena said, shock written all over her face.

“Sit down—all of you,” Lillian grimaced, pointing her finger at three chairs.

The three of them complied.

“So…this resistance isn’t about the arranged marriage between Philomena and I, isn’t it?” Logan asked.

“What an obtuse observation,” Lillian said dryly.

“Lillian,” Philomena scolded.

“You’re not my mom,” Lillian exclaimed. “Now, listen to me.”

“Why is there a secret tunnel leading to my kingdom and my family’s personal storage building?” Logan demanded. All the anger had drained away and now he was just plain confused.

“Think hard, Logan. Why do you think there’s a secret tunnel leading here, huh?” Lillian paused and, when Logan just gave her a blank look, she sighed. “My parents framed you.”

And that’s when it clicked. Logan’s eyes widened. “Your parents stole the missing goods and planted them here!”

Lillian nodded. “Exactly. And my spy tells me that most of your kingdom’s so-called problems stem from one, single, person.”

“Emese,” the woman who had brought him and Virgil through the tunnel said seriously. She pulled down her own hood and face mask and Logan could clearly see his parent’s most trusted adviser, Clara. “She blackmails your mother into doing things that don’t quite make sense—going easy on the criminals and sending regular citizens to prison, raising the taxes.”

“Do you know what Emese has over my mother?” Logan asked hopefully. Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth a kingdom’s favour.

Clara shook her head. “Unfortunately, no.”

“How long have you known?” Virgil asked hoarsely, face turned downwards, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Since I was 9. I’ve always been a snoop. Although I didn’t actually do anything until I was 11,” Lillian replied.

“She gave me and the rest of the resistance a mini heart attack when she came to one of our meetings,” Clara said with a little laugh.

“Why did you kidnap me?” Philomena asked Lillian. She didn’t look nearly as upset about the realization that her parents were crooks as Virgil was.

“If I kidnapped you and made sure Logan and Virgil heard it, then I’d have all three of you with me without raising suspicions,” Lillian replied.

“Why do you need us?” Virgil asked.

Lillian grinned mischievously. “I technically don’t need you, but I have a proposition to make.”

***

Down below, under the Scharf castle, Logan, Virgil, and Philomena huddled in a small, stone, room. It was completely dark, save for the thin space between the wooden floor and the trapdoor that hid them.

Virgil was shaking next to Logan and he desperately wished he could say anything to make him feel better. But it wasn’t everyday you found out your own parents weren’t as great as you thought they were after years of putting them on a pedestal. Logan just held both of Virgil’s hands tightly instead.

While Virgil was shaking, Philomena was fidgeting. Probably wanting to continuously ask when it would start but Lillian had given the three of them strict orders to be silent.

Logan silently scoffed—since when did he listen to the orders of a fourteen year old?

And that was when the first screams began. Logan could hear one of the servants shriek and then the floor vibrate as she began running, “fire! Fire!”

It sounded like chaos in the castle. The shouts and yelling only got louder and Logan felt Virgil’s body tense up at the sound of someone’s voice going “they’ve got Princess Philomena, Prince Virgil, and Prince Logan!”

But then came the full on shaking and loud bangs. “Lillian didn’t say anything about this…” Philomena whispered, trailing off. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know…” Logan said, feeling his own heartbeat quicken and begged it to slow down before Virgil could sense it. “This wasn’t a part of the plan.”

Virgil shot out of Logan’s arms. “The cannons. They’re using the cannons!” Virgil began hyperventilating and almost knocked the glasses off Logan’s face in searching for the handle of the trapdoor.

Logan blindly flung his arms up and brought Virgil back down against his chest. “You can’t go out there, Virge, you’ll be killed. The power of those cannons could knock this whole place down. We’re safer here.”

“But mom, dad, Mabel, Peter…Lillian!”

Philomena’s hand grazed Logan’s side before, assumingly, finding Virgil’s shoulder. “Lillian’s smart and tough. I’m sure this is all part of the plan. Maybe something went wrong. I’m sure our family’s fine.” But she sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than Virgil.

Another massive boom and then shake and Virgil wiggled out of Logan’s grip. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

But then everything was silent. Oddly silent. The three of them held their breath.

Someone above opened the trapdoor and Logan squinted up before seeing Lillian’s familiar face and sighing in relief. He didn’t see the fat tears rolling down her face until Philomena gasped and asked what happened.

Lillian explained through sobs as she helped the three of them out of the secret room. “They-they went behind my back. All of them. They fired the cannons and brought the whole castle down in ruins…”

As Logan stepped onto the floor where there should have been an enclosed hallway around them, he saw blue skies and rubble all around him. The whole place seemed to be blanketed in smoke.

Lillian brought her two siblings into a hug and her cries wracked her whole body. “Everyone that was in the castle is dead. Our family.”

Philomena began rubbing Lillian’s back soothingly.

“Clara said that the only way to bring in a new era was to get rid of the old monarchy. I can’t believe she’d do this to me—I thought we were friends.”

Logan felt his blood boil. “Where are they now? Where’d they go?” He needed to speak to Clara. He couldn’t bring the rest of the Scharf’s back to life but he needed to do something about this.

“They didn’t tell me,” Lillian sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Clara was the last person to speak to me. She said that the resistance decided to spare me because none of them believed I could do anything about it.”

Logan kicked a massive stone.

“The resistance underestimated you,” Virgil said slowly, his voice hardening. “You can do plenty to get them back.”

Bit by bit, Lillian stopped crying. Her eyes flashed determinedly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” She paused. “But I need to create a plan.”

“Whatever you come up with, we’ll help you as much as we can. However, I suggest we first find someplace to go. My castle’s out of the question—everyone thinks we’re dead,” Logan said, tapping his foot, thinking about his poor parents without an heir. Now that he had spent his time at the Scharf’s, his parents didn’t seem nearly as bad as he thought.

Lillian straightened her spine, fire in her eyes, looking ever the leader. “I know where we can go.”

[vinca-majors]

Michaela Brown, ScaryMommy:

Upon graduating college with my hard-earned degree to teach high school English, I almost immediately began planning for  my graduate studies. Lots of high schools around the country require their teachers to have a masters degree, so that was a motivator. Plus, it came with a pay raise. And, I truly enjoyed going to school. In fact, at the time, I hadn’t ruled out going on and earning my doctorate as well.

I did end up graduating with my M.A. in secondary education, after writing a thesis I’m damn proud of. My path changed a bit and I never went on for my doctorate, but you can be sure as hell if I had that I’d claim that Dr. title. That my students—even the grumpiest of teenagers whose eyes shot daggers at me as I made them read Shakespearean sonnets—would be calling me Dr. and not Mrs. or Miss.

And as I’ve encountered other professionals with that Dr. title, I’ve never hesitated to refer to them that way. My children’s formal principal went by Dr. Matthews. No one questioned it. I’ve had professors at the undergraduate and graduate level use the title. Again, that’s what we all called them. With respect. And without hesitation. Just as we refer to famous figures like a man we’ve all heard of—Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.— because each of these people put in the work, the years, the money, the commitment, and the dedication. Each of them earned their Dr. title.

So yeah, when Dr. Jill Biden completed her education and earned her Doctor of Education (Ed.D) from the University of Delaware, she rightfully earned the title “Dr.” and deserves to be referred to as such. Just as any other professional with that level of expertise does as well. Is she a medical doctor? No. Does she claim to be? No. Have professionals in academia added Dr. to their titles once they’ve earned their doctorate for centuries? Yes.

However, because some ignorant asswipes remain stuck in 1950, or don’t understand how higher education works, or simply are bound and determined to hate on the Bidens as they hated on the Obamas even though they are kind and supportive of others—regardless of political party, her title is under scrutiny.

The Wall Street Journal stupidly published an op-ed, which has now gone viral, that was moronically entitled, “Is There a Doctor in the White House? Not if You Need an M.D.” And, of course, this piece of trash essay included a byline that reads, “Jill Biden should think about dropping the honorific, which feels fraudulent, even comic.”

Joseph Epstein, the “writer” of this ignorant word vomit, opens by condescendingly calling Dr. Biden “kiddo” and offering her advice, as if he is in any position to advise the First Lady of the United States on literally anything. “Madame First Lady—Mrs. Biden—Jill—kiddo: a bit of advice on what may seem like a small but I think is a not unimportant matter,” Epstein mansplains.

He then goes on to insult her dissertation on student retention at community colleges, calling it “unpromising” and, in the same paragraph, refers to the idiotic but commonly used quip that no one can call themselves “doctor” unless they’ve delivered a child.

Let’s break this bullshittery down, shall we? First of all, Mr. Epstein, your piece reeks of envy. We’re sorry you didn’t have the… guts? courage? stamina? intelligence level? (who knows) to actually ever earn a doctorate, but you sound bitter. It’s not a good look. Also, it’s clear that you don’t respect the value of community colleges, which is where Dr. Biden has spent a large portion of her career. And, finally, the world now knows that you are threatened by smart women. Bravo.

Also, we’ll be sure to let all the medical doctors out there who’ve tirelessly fought COVID-19 this year, holding the hands of dying patients, and also those brilliant scientists who thankfully have brought us a vaccine that offers a beacon of hope, that they don’t get to call themselves “doctor” because they’ve never caught a newborn baby. I’m sure they’ll appreciate that tidbit of info from you—*checks notes*—a man with one single undergraduate degree, no earned doctorate, and zero medical expertise.

Basically, Mr. Epstein, it’s obvious that you have some personal issues you need to unpack. Maybe take some time over the holidays to do a little self-reflection? Like, why do you even care what title Dr. Biden goes by? Why are you so scared of women who are more successful than you?

Your piece then goes on a long, barely coherent rant about “honorary doctorates,” which is not what Dr. Biden has. If you’d like to blast the validity or point of bestowing honorary doctorates on celebrities like Stephen Colbert and Seth Meyers, for example, go right ahead, but that has nothing to do with Dr. Biden. This lack of cohesive argument is why I’ve referred to you as a “writer” a few paragraphs up, because it seems apparent that you don’t understand the need for basic textual support.

(Calling you a jealous asswipe, well, that’s just a reflection of your character.)

Finally, your last “supporting argument” (again, use of quotes intentional here) as to why Dr. Biden should drop her title is because apparently doctorates don’t count anymore. Back in the day, you explain, doctoral exams were far more grueling, but today’s candidates get off way too easy.

“One had to pass examinations in two foreign languages, one of them Greek or Latin, defend one’s thesis, and take an oral examination on general knowledge in one’s field,” your op-ed states. “At Columbia University of an earlier day, a secretary sat outside the room where these examinations were administered, a pitcher of water and a glass on her desk. The water and glass were there for the candidates who fainted. A far cry, this, from the few doctoral examinations I sat in on during my teaching days, where candidates and teachers addressed one another by first names and the general atmosphere more resembled a kaffeeklatsch.”

(I had to look up what kaffeeklatsch meant—it’s an informal social gathering at which coffee is served. Excuse my lack of knowledge there. I’m just a silly woman with a higher degree than you.)

And, as you end with, “Dr. Jill, I note you acquired your Ed.D. as recently as 15 years ago at age 55, or long after the terror had departed,” you not only insult her by addressing her as “Dr. Jill”, but you also imply that because she likely didn’t faint while taking her exams or defending her dissertation, that somehow her degree isn’t real.

That’s the crazy thing about education—it evolves. Today, kids even use these neat little things called computers! You wouldn’t believe it. Another way we’ve evolved is to realize that shockingly, our doctoral candidates don’t have to become physically ill to prove they are smart and worthy of their degree!

(I mean, you never even tried, Mr. Epstein, so I guess even today, doctoral programs are only for the toughest among us, like Dr. Jill Biden.)

Also, it seems that Northwestern University, where you were previously listed as “emeritus lecturer of English,” has scrubbed you entirely from their website, stating that it is “firmly committed to equity, diversity and inclusion, and strongly disagrees with Epstein’s misogynistic views.” Again, evolution! Change is good.

Hmmm. So one of you is a misogynist with no teaching history to even brag about as your previous employer has disassociated with you, and another is a successful educator committing to helping all Americans have access to a proper education. Oh, and the second one goes by Dr.

Looks like the real “comical fraud” is you, bruh.

And just so we’re clear, Dr. Biden has always been committed to ensuring that everyone (not just pretentious twats like you, Joseph Epstein) has access to a fair education. Earlier in her career, she worked in a psychiatric hospital where she taught English to adolescents with emotional disabilities. During that same time she also earned two (yes, TWO) master’s degrees, one from Villanova University and one from West Chester University. In 2009, after earning her doctorate, she began teaching English at Northern Virginia Community College, and advocating for community college education has since been her passion. “Dr. Biden has always said that community colleges are ‘one of America’s best-kept secrets.’ As a teacher, she sees how community colleges have changed the lives of so many of her students for the better,” explains former president Barack Obama’s White House website.

Sorry, Mr. Epstein, but not everyone can afford to enroll in an English class at Northwestern taught by a raging sexist who gets his balls in a bunch when women succeed. For many, community college is a better fit, and Dr. Biden is a big part of that.

“In 2012, she traveled across the country as part of the ‘Community College to Career’ tour to highlight successful industry partnerships between community colleges and employers,” the website goes on to say. “In the fall of 2010, she hosted the first-ever White House Summit on Community Colleges with President Obama, and she continues to work on this outreach on behalf of the Administration – frequently visiting campuses, meeting with students and teachers, as well as industry representatives around the country.”

Imagine all of the hard-working Americans Dr. Biden has helped by supporting community colleges. Future teachers just like her often get their degree while working full time, raising a family, and going to college at night. Who knows, some of them may even—gasp—go to grad school too. High school kids who choose to forego going away to a full-time university and instead, take classes at a community college closer to home, are given that option because of people like Dr. Biden. Kids who go on to be EMTs, police officers, technicians in trade industries, engineers, and find success in the business world. Or, they transfer those college credits to a larger university down the road when they have the means to do so. Single moms doing their best to give their children a good life often attend community college classes online, after their children are asleep, proving that they have the drive and determination to do more and be more.

So, what it all boils down to, Mr. Epstein, is that you really, really hate that there’s about to a woman in the White House who’s smarter than you. And not only that, but she inspires women everywhere to work hard, earn their degrees, and then they’ll be smarter than you too. Yikes. That’s a tough pickle to be in, Mr. Epstein. We’re sorry that you are so insecure and unhappy with your own lack of success.

At least you can still wrote those stellar op-eds though! Good luck with your “writing” career, kiddo.

[laughingpinecone]

Yuletide letter

I am laughingpineapple on AO3  

Hello dear author! I hope you’ll have fun with our match. Feel free to draw from general or fandom-specific likes, past letters, and/or follow your heart.

Likes: worldbuilding, slice of life (especially if the event the fic focuses on is made up but canon-specific), missing moments, 5+1 and similar formats, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, physical intimacy, lingering touches, loyalty, casefic, surrealism, magical realism, established relationships, future fic (when in doubt, tell me what’s happening to them five, ten, twenty years in the future!), hurt/comfort, throwing characters into non-canon environments, banter, functional relationships between dysfunctional individuals, unexplained mysteries, bittersweet moods, journal/epistolary fic, dreams and memories and identities, tropey plots that are already close enough to characters/canon, outsider POV, UST, resolved UST, exploring the ~deep lore, leaning on the uniqueness of the canon setting/mood, found families, characters reuniting after a long and/or harrowing time, friends-to-lovers, road trips, maps, mutual pining, cuddling, wintry moods, the feeling of flannel and other fabrics, ridiculous concepts played entirely straight, sensory details, places being haunted, people being haunted, the mystery of the woods, small hopes in bleak worlds, electricity, places that don’t quite add up, mismatched memories, caves and deep places, distant city lights at night, emphasis on non-human traits of non-human characters (gen-wise, but also a hearty yes xeno for applicable ships), emphasis on inhuman traits of characters who were human once and have sort of shed it all behind

Cool with: any tense, any pov, any rating, plotty, not plotty, IF, unrequested characters popping up.

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents are okay!), canon retellings, consent issues, actual covid (fantasy plagues are okay)

Les Cités Obscures: any

This is a very general “please, anything in the style of canon, just maybe with less thoughtless sexism” request. I want to lose myself in these cities again, and in the strange lands that connect them. I’d be happy to follow any of the known characters and/or OCs, or eschew characters altogether and write about the cities themselves. What caught your imagination in Brüsel, Xhystos, Taxandria, Alaxis...? The history of some cool building that was only marginally featured in one of the stories? Or an OC city! If you’ve got a favourite European city that doesn’t already have its obscure counterpart, please tell me all about it! Go big, go wild! What strange and classically surrealist happenings take place within its walls? Or even... outside Europe... Nerding out about architecture is of course very welcome. I would also love to read a story based on any Schuiten illustration, contextualizing it as if it were part of this ‘verse. Here’s a bunch of them, for example!

Ghost Trick: Cabanela

You know.. him. Dazzlingly OTT, untiring, rock-solid self-esteem, loyal to a fault, following a rhythm of his own, flawless intuition until it fails and it all burns down… him. I just want to see more of him doing stuff! The way he’s chill and open toward new people (like Sissel and Missile in ch15) makes him perfect to throw at most other characters and see how they react to the sparkles… I’d love some focus on how ridiculous his aesthetic is, half Saturday Night Fever half hardboiled detective half bubbly preteen (for a total of 150%) and yet he makes it work. Or how ruthless he can be, possibly for the sake of the people he cares for. The quote “The intimacy of big parties”. Him and Alma in the new timeline bonding over knowing (once Jowd has spilled the beans) but not remembering that terrible timeline. Some tropey scenario on the job. Snark-offs with Pigeon Man, by which I mean PM snarks and it bounces off him like water off a spotless white goose’s back.

Ship-wise it’s only Cabanela/Jowd whenever it’s not infidelity, Cabanela/Alma in what-ifs also if it’s not infidelity and Cabanela/Alma/Jowd for me (and Lynne/Memry and Yomiel/fianSissel on the side). There are a bunch of shippy prompts in all my past letters - I would however reiterate here that Jowd. is. the worst tease. always. Like, just saying, but assume he’s pining big time and Jowd and Alma figure it out - they’d make a national sport out of excruciatingly protracted teasing.

Conversely, Cabanela/Lynne and Cabanela/Yomiel are NOTPs especially from Cabanela’s side. So while I appreciate the thick tension of a good Yomiel VS Cabanela confrontation like everyone and their cat, and also really appreciate a roughed-up Cabanela, and I do love Yomiel in his own right… I don’t want Cabanela being into it. Adrenaline junkie he may be but this hurts and his coat’s a mess and there’s no perfect winning scenario so he hates every second of it. (JOWD being super into Cabanela being roughed up is another matter altogether and he should probably mind his own business. ...incompatible kinks, truly tragic. they’ll have to find some other common ground. they’re smart, resourceful, playful fellows, I’m sure they’ll manage)

Kentucky Route Zero: Donald kentuckyroutezero

I love everyone in the cast, all acts and interludes, and I am extremely into all the themes this incredible work of art ended up exploring. Agreeing with the overall doom and gloom up to Act IV, I was blown away by Act V’s strong affirmation of the importance of the arts and of the bonds we make and of carving up spaces for ourselves in capitalism’s wake. Donald was, indeed, not a part of any of that. Even the final interlude updates us on Lula and mentions Joseph, but the big guy is nowhere to be seen. So, you know, there’s fanfiction! He’s so static, defeated. I am fascinated by the chain of metaphysical spaces that goes surface -> Zero -> Echo -> Dogwood and even within that framework, the hall of the mountain king is like a hopeless dead end. Dude’s terminally stuck. So - once again, in the spirit of transformative works, how could he get... you know... unstuck? Did Lula’s momentous appearance in Act III shake him? Having a functioning Xanadu again, perhaps? How could he interrogate that oracle, what recursive wonders would it show him? If he decides to leave, what does it feel to be on the surface again after so long, or on the river perhaps? Maybe he is forced to leave by the flood, if not this one, the next... Having him meet any other character would be amazing. Past or future time spent with Weaver... seeing Conway again, changed... programmer guy chatting up musician androids... did he know Carrington from his college days or was Carrington only a friend of Lula’s?

As for Lula herself and Joseph too: “Flipping through the pages, Conway is able to gather that it’s a story about three characters: Joseph, Donald, and Lula. It’s something like a tragic love triangle, but much more complex. Some kind of tangled, painfully concave love polygon.” 😔 I ship them as a full triad, if you can nudge them in that direction, good. But I’m very open to non-romantic resolutions as well, going past their messy feelings to find each other as friends after so many years maybe. Or... a start. idk.

I’d be interested in fic that leans on the game’s adjacent genres: wanna go full-on American Gothic? Dip into surrealism? Take a leaf from Twin Peaks with tulpa / split narratives to explore the characters’ issues? I’m also open to AUs, real or through Xanadu. This also feels like a good place to stress that I really, really like caves.

And now for something completely different: FAQ:  The “Snake Fight” Portion of Your Thesis Defense is in the tagset this year. I’d say that the crossover with the snake portion of Here and there along the Echo writes itself, but it would not be correct, as in fact I would like you to write it for me. Feel free to not feature Donald if you focus on this crossover instead!

Uru would be a fun crossover too, for Donald specifically. He’s very DRC-shaped in how he tilts at doomed projects which just so happen to be deep underground.

Pyre: Volfred Sandalwood

This is a Volfred solo, Volfred&literally anyone or Volfred/Tariq, /Oralech or /Tariq/Oralech request. I adore everyone in that Blackwagon+Dalbert+Celeste, so if you want to add a Nightwing or two to any prompt, please do! I also love all the Scribes and find Erisa a compelling tragic figure, while out of the other triumvirates, I’m “love to hate them” for Manley, Brighton, Udmildhe and Deluge and would not like to see them featured in sympathetic roles. fwiw I also enjoy Jodi/Celeste and Bertrude/Pamitha a lot!

I feel deeply for all of Pyre’s main themes - literacy, degrees of freedom, the fragile time that is the end of a historical cycle, nobodies rising up to the occasion, building a better society, and of course found family, “distance cannot separate our spirits” and all that jazz, and Volfred is squarely rooted at the center of all of them. I really really love everything he stands for, even if he’s overbearingly smug in standing for it. Just please tell me things about my fave. His relationship to the Scribes (as a historian, a some kind of vision, via *ae or once he’s a star himself)? A ‘forced vacay’ Downside ending where he looks at the Union from afar and keeps living in this strange transformational place? Life in a cramped Blackwagon that was meant for like 5 people tops and is currently eight Nightwings, a herald and an orb? Since he picked him for the job to begin with, does he respect and cherish Hedwyn as he dang well should? What does it feel like to try and Read a herald? Was he ever in danger, in the Commonwealth or in the Downside? What daring act of resistance did he and Bertrude pull off at some point in their past? It’d be cool if one of his old pamphlets came up at some point. Does he puff up as prime minister because he’s nervous, and who can see past his hyper-professionalism and lend a hand? Please roast him big time about the votes he assigns to the various Nightwings in his planner? What’s his attitude toward the flame’s purification (what with being a tree but mostly like, as a general concept. He did nothing wrong!) (well he definitely said some things wrong and sometimes oftentimes the ego jumps out, but his intentions did nothing wrong)? When did his calculating approach fail him? Something with Pamitha along the lines of that edit that goes “Can we talk, one ten to another?“/"I am an eleven, my girl, but continue”? Dude could easily be voted sexiest voice in the Downside - how much is he aware of it? Does he sing? I love how he bears his ‘reader’ brand proudly. And speaking of scars, I have to wonder, looking at Manley for comparison, if the shape of his head, with that massive crack, isn’t also due to injuries.

As a refrain from my general likes: emphatically yes xeno to both shippy interactions at all ratings and to gen explorations of what a Sap is like… I’d love to read all your headcanons.

Ship-wise, I enjoy him with Tariq as this kind of esoteric connection of minds, guarded words full of secret meanings, long contemplative walks together (is any external pov watching...?), Volfred’s Reader powers brushing against Tariq’s mind and getting weak in the knees at the starlit expanse he finds there, so unlike mortal thoughts. Tariq finds his individuality learning from him; Volfred presumably gets a transcendent glimpse of the Scribes. And I enjoy him with Oralech as pretty much the opposite of that, Oralech is so very mortal compared to him, such a precious, fleeting, burning life especially after his fall. Oralech’s idealism is very dear to me, it was their plan, their shared revolutionary spirit, I find it deeply moving. And I am very interested in seeing them rebuild their connection now that Oralech is back, changed, and in some ways he can learn to let go of his misconceptions and slowly open himself to Volfred’s love again, but in other ways that’s who he is now, with this deep-set anger, and what does it even feel to realize that you’re the symbol of the end of an era (the end of the Rites, the fading of the Scribes). I’m interested in both topside and downside endings for all of them, as long as they end up on the same side, the revolution was peaceful and they don’t angst too much about the side they ended in. Tariq can ‘find his way home’ in the near post-canon somehow or even be summoned again, as a different aspect of the same ‘moonlit vision’ that once inspired Soliam Murr.

Strandbeest: any

https://www.strandbeest.com/

I would just like words to go with these, please and thank you so very much. Worldbuild to your heart’s content! Specifically: I’m fascinated by the premise that the strandbeest are living creatures that evolve and adapt to their ecosystem. A world where life is just wind stomachs and sandy joints, and the tide that can catch you unaware. I would like a story that feels distinctly inorganic. The wonder that is the existence of these creatures. Their unique struggles. Weird and experimental if you like. With a mechanical focus, maybe?

I nominated four critters as a selection of the different cool things they can do - Percipiere Excelsus is huge and has the hammer mechanism, Suspendisse’s tail senses the hardness of the sand, Uminami is my fave caterpillar and the caterpillars overall feel like a new paradigm after a mass extinction event, Ader straight-up flies... but they’re all wonderful. If you want to focus on different strandbeest, please do!

Twin Peaks: Lucy Moran

Case fic but they don’t find out jack shit, someone disappears, David Bowie was there, it’s complicated. Fragmented, shifted, mirrored identities. New Lodge spaces. The risks of staring into the void for too long. Gentle illusions. Transcendence. The moon. Static buzzing. Any title from the s3 ethereal whooshing compilation used as a prompt, actually. Whatever goes on on Blue Pine mountain or the even more mysterious things that go on on White Tail mountain where exactly zero canon locations are found. Twin Peaks is all about the mystery to me, the awe of mystery and unknowability and the human drive to look beyond and the risks of getting a peek, and about shared consciousness and trauma taking physical form in an uncaring world. Go wild with the ethereal whooshing! But I also love the human warmth at the heart of it all, and sometimes it’s enough to anchor these characters and let them have a nice day. A fic entirely focused on some instance of coziness against the cold chaotic background of canon would be great too.

For Lucy specifically, a big draw for me is how canon (...s2 need not apply) empathizes with her way of processing the world. Not just Peaks, but On the Air’s protag who is basically a Lucy expy also gets the narrative completely on her side and that’s great. And I love how in s3, her focus on the small things around her is always echoed by bigger, climactic events beyond her horizon (bunnies / Jack Rabbit’s palace, chair order / Garland’s chair, her first scene talking about the two sheriffs / doubles everywhere...). It feels to me like some kind of off-kilter mindfulness and I love it. She’s also got a loving husband and an amazing son, which, in this economy and also this canon? Damn. The one functional family, imagine that. I am not interested in focus on family dynamics, but singularly, either Lucy/Andy or Lucy&Wally are great - in particular, I’m interested in how strange they are and yet they make it work. With the ruthless critique of traditional family structure that’s all over canon, maybe they make it work specifically because they’re not doing any of that. A bit like the Addams family... but... not goth...? Anyway. I’d love to see Lucy interact with and maybe strike a friendship with any character she’s never shared a scene with in canon! In the tagset, there’s Diane for some secretaries bonding, Audrey because??? why not?, Albert because it’d be an epic enemies to friends slowburn, some version of Laura in the future, if we’re feeling really daring maybe even some version of Coop in the future, still fragmented... or anyone you want! Outside the tagset I’d be curious about Hawk, Margaret and maybe Doris in particular, I think, and Phil, and Nadine and the Invitation to Love fandom in general (Frost says it still airs - did it get as weird as TP s3 did?), but if you have an idea with someone else, absolutely go for it!

Canon-specific DNWs: any singular Dreamer being the ‘source’ of canon, BOB (let alone Judy) being forever defeated in the finale, Judy being an active malevolent presence in the characters’ lives, clear explanations for canonical ambiguities, ‘Odessaverse’ being the reality layer, the Fireman’s House by the Sea being the White Lodge, whatever Twin Perfect’s on about, Cooper/Audrey, Cooper/Laura

[skvaderarts]

Apocrypha Chapter Twelve: Lofty

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Twelve: Lofty

Notes: Welcome to the community, Kokox10! I loved reading your comments. It's always to have a new face around here to interact with. I hope that every single one of you had a good week and that you're staying safe. And thank you for continuing to read the story!

(-~-)

The Sparda Express pulled into the station at half past eight am, the cool waters of the bay area glimmering like a mirage in an arid desert. The sands were practically untouched, evening wind shaping them into smooth, wavy rows that perfectly accented the dark surf at the water's edge. It seemed as though the residents of the sleepy beachside town had yet to venture out of their homes, and those that had were at work or school. As an added bonus, their hotel was just across from the boardwalk that bordered the white sands of the seafront, providing them easy access to the shops and their earthly possessions. This was advantageous to the members of the Devil May Cry agency, as it meant that they would attract even less attention than they normally did back home.

Accommodations had been arranged ahead of time by Morrison to help avoid any complications. Things were never simple when you were dealing with such a large group of people. Much to the shock and horror of basically everyone involved, there were enough beds to go around, but only three rooms, meaning that someone would be staying with the children. Nero volunteered almost instantly, all to aware of the fact that Kyire would do so if someone else didn't. That was just who she was as a person. But he hadn't talked her into coming just so she could spend all of her time worrying over the boys. And besides, he had been looking for another opportunity to spend some quality time with the children. It all worked out in the end for the five of them.

Who it didn't work out for was V.

In a decision that surprised literally no one, Dante and Vergil ended up sharing a room. But unlike Lady, Trish, and Nico, who were sharing the remaining room, and Patty, who had booked her own private room that she decided to share with Kyrie at the last minute just because she'd come to enjoy her company on the train ride over, V ended up with two less than ideal choices. He could either stay with Nero… or he could stay with his father and uncle, a choice that carried the added risk of being awoken in the middle of the night by a charged sword fight if they got into a disagreement.

Considering the fact that the accommodations had been taken care of by a third party, no one aside from Patty had considered who they might end up sharing a room with, least of all V. He'd simply agreed to some because he'd never been to the beach before, and he was curious to see what it was like. But, in the end, he decided to go against his sense of self preservation and stay in the room with Dante and Vergil, a choice that seemed to take both twins off guard. They were only sleeping in the same room. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

Yes.

Yes it could.

After taking their bags to their respective rooms and grabbing the necessities that they would need for the foreseeable future, they split into groups to check out different parts of the beach. Nero and Nico headed to the beach, noting that containing the excitement of the children was difficult. It was best to simply go ahead and let them start exploring the water's edge and enjoying the summer sun. Lady, Trish, and Patty absolutely insisted that Kyrie come with them to a local clothing boutique they'd seen on the way into town, noting that she needed something "cute to wear to the beach." The young woman reluctantly agreed, more than likely afraid of what the two devil hunters would try to get her to try on.

But Dante and Vergil were still at the hotel, roaming the lobby. Despite the fact that he had agreed to come to the beach, V had told everyone else to go ahead. Apparently he was still trying to talk himself into leaving the hotel room and actually going to the beach. They had no idea what the conflict could be, but Vergil had opted to stay behind and wait for him, unbeknownst to his oldest son. This was partially due to their agreement to talk on the train, and to help Vergil avoid the concept of actually going to the beach yet. Vergil had spent enough time near the water for his tastes. And as such, Dante had chosen to stay and wait with him. He has obvious motives for doing so, but that went without saying.

"So… what do you think is keeping him," Dante said as he flipped through the magazine that he'd found on the table in front of him. He was reclined in a comfortable lobby chair while Vergil chose to lean against the wall by the window. V was still upstairs in their hotel room, doing who knew what. Everyone else had left a few minutes ago.

Vergil folded his arms, looking out of the corner of his eye at the window. Blue as far as the eye could see. No sand from this angle. Just light water that slowly melded into deeper water and what seemed to be a large rock or small island in the distance; nothing but a speck on the horizon from this distance. He didn't find that as tranquil and enticing as he imagined that most people would.

"It was your decision to stay behind, Dante. No one is forcing you to be here," Vergil said flatly, hoping to halt any plans his younger twin might have of asking that question repeatedly in order to drive him slowly insane," He can't be expected to rush, especially when he has no idea that anyone is waiting for him. He has no compelling reason to hurry."

Dante leaned back slightly and craned his neck to the side, raising his eyebrows in curiosity. He wasn't accustomed to Vergil being this patent. While his twin was admittedly very good at planning and enacting long, drawn out plans, he wasn't normally so good at sitting (or standing) and waiting for long periods of time. Or any period of time, for that matter. Being left along to wander through his subconscious was a bad course of action, more often than not. And the longer the eldest Son of Sparda was forced to wait, the thinner his tolerance grew. Patience was not normally a quality his twin brother possessed as an extension of that fact. But here he was, resisting the urge to go knock on the door and tell V that they were waiting for him. He really was trying, wasn't he?

"Yea, but he might have decided to take a nap or something for all we know," Dante said, turning a page in the periodical he was browsing through. He hadn't found anything super interesting yet. No news of anything demonic in the area. Maybe the residents of the town didn't believe in that sort of thing? "Don't you think you should go check on him or something?"

Vergil shrugged slightly, seemingly indifferent to the suggestion. At the end of the day, he was in no hurry to go anywhere. They would be here for a few days. He felt no reason to rush. He really didn't have anything planned once they reached the waterfront. "When last I checked, your legs were perfectly functional. Why not go ask him yourself?"

Dante shook his head slightly and returned to his magazine. He didn't really have a comeback to that statement. Yea, he was physically capable of doing that. He just didn't feel like doing that at the moment. As far as he was concerned, Vergil had a point on this one. But he was willing to admit that it was still possible that he could be correct, too. He would wait for a few more minutes before heading upstairs to double check what was causing the delay.

A passive silence fell over them both. For once, the silence between them wasn't a result of hostility or bitter feelings, so there was one silver lining to this situation. But either way, Dante hoped that V would come down soon and spare them from the lack of conversation. It was too early in the trip of things to be so uncomfortable. They hadn't even gotten sand where it didn't belong yet!

Off in the distance, the faint sound of a door closing could be heard. Dante subconsciously hoped that his wish had come true while Vergil shot a slow but brief glance in the general direction of the stairs. Neither of them had any idea how many rooms were in this building, especially considering the fact that there were two wings with rooms in them, but that didn't change the fact that it could possibly be V. The youngest Son of Sparda's hopes were dashed a second later as a young woman walked past them, heading out of the building. She proceeded to the checkout counter, paid some sort of fee, and then vacated the building, towing her bags behind her.

The youngest of the two twins flipped through his magazine, checking to see if anything else caught his eye before admitting defeat and casually flinging it across the table. It landed in the center of the table with a soft smack and then folded open again, the wear and overuse it had suffered through clearly leaving a permanent crease in one portion of the thin booklet. Dante almost pitied it in a way. Sometimes he felt like that magazine.

A chance glance in Vergil's general direction revealed that he had slowly migrated closer to the bottom of the steps, rounding the corner that he had been around. Part of him wondered what had motivated him to do so, but he was actually more curious as to why a hotel with five stories didn't have an elevator in it. Yes, it was older and seemed to be retrofitted with newer amenities, but that didn't make it any less of a hassle. Their room was on the third floor. At least it had a bathroom.

Faint footsteps could be heard from throughout the entire building as different patrons went about their business, going to and from their rooms. The soft classical music that played throughout the building lended a relaxing air to the place that you'd expect considering the fact that it was on a waterfront. No one wanted to come here and not relax. That would be stupid. As this thought passed through Dante's mind, another visitor came down the steps, shooting a curious look over their shoulder as they reached the bottom of the steps. Upon seeing the twins, the young man furrowed his brow for a moment before heading towards the buffet area. A knowing look crossed Vergil's face.

"You may get your wish sooner rather than later, brother." Vergil said calmly as he watched the man leave, paying little attention to his twin's reaction. 

Dante nodded. "Yea, seems like he was suffering from a serious case of deja vu." He stretched out, making himself comfortable," Or maybe he saw our hair color and just thinks we're old or something. He wouldn't really be wrong."

The comment seemed to incense Vergil, causing him almost serene demeanor to shatter like porcelain in an earthquake. Dante could practically feel him get pissed off at the statement. "I'm not old, Dante. You'd do well to remember that."

Upon hearing his brother's statement, Dante laughed, garnering him an almost ticked off look from his older twin. "Vergil, were twins. If I'm old, you're old. And I'm pretty sure I'm old," He said, shaking his head at the inevitability of their mortality," You have two grown kids. One of them had three kids of their own. Only old people have adult kids, brothers. I'm sorry to break it to ya, but you're old!"

Vergil looked equal parts furious and horrified at his brother's statement. Dante knew that regardless of what his brother felt, that didn't change things. They both knew they were not as young as they had once been. That was just how life worked. But it occurred to him in that moment that maybe Vergil hadn't considered how much of his life he had lost to his time in the underworld until now. The gravity of having spent half his life down there had probably hit him like a brick shithouse. They'd come here to enjoy a relaxing seaside vacation, and he'd given his older twin an existential crisis instead. 

Eh, he wasn't upset about it, either.

"I'm... were not having this conversation today." Vergil said, clearly flustered. Dante was lucky that Yamato was nowhere to be seen. That being said, he was sure Vergil had stashed the blade somewhere around himself. It seemed to appear from nowhere half of the time anyway. Their father's old sword was just weird like that sometimes.

"Fine by me… but you're still-" Dante started, barely suppressing the shiteating grin that was threatening to spread across his face. It was good to see that he could still get under his older twin's skin this easy.

"Don't you dare!" Vergil said, his voice slightly elevated, but his tone darker than normal. It was extremely alarming and intimidating. Dante was half sure that his twin was about to whip out his trusty katana and cut him a new one. His older twin took a step towards him, more than likely about to say something when there was a loud thump and a yelp. Vergil pivoted and took a few quick steps to the left without looking, just barely stopping in front of the stairs in time.

Without warning, V came rocketing down the steps. The young summoner had more than likely missed a step, and his misplaced footing had sent him headfirst over the top of the stairs. Vergil caught him under the left arm and right side respectively, sliding back slightly as he braced himself carefully, seemingly noting that, due to his height, not holding him up was probably just as bad as simply letting him hit the floor. V gasped for breath slightly as he hit his father's chest first, knocking his head against his shoulder. If V had been heavier and Vergil less coordinated, the sheer force of impact would have probably sent them both tumbling to the floor. Dante had clambered to his feet during the excitement, heading over towards them. What the hell had just happened?

V took a second to steady himself, rubbing his head slightly as his legs buckled. After a moment, he stood up all the way. He seemed startled and slightly dazed, but otherwise unharmed. Dante walked over to the stairs and picked up the shoulder bad that V had dropped. He was willing to bet that it had thrown him off and caused him to go flying down the stairs. At least he was alright.

"You alright there, mister poetry?" Dante asked as he walked over to him, handing him the bag. He considered shaking him slightly to test this, but decided against it once his self preservation instincts kicked in. "What the hell happened?"

The younger white haired part devil shook his head slightly as if doing so would help him part the clouds in his mind. He accepted his bag from Dante with a grateful nod before turning back to Vergil. It was then that he noticed that he was braced against the older devil hunter, his balance not yet fully returned. It seemed that his equilibrium was still slightly off. V took a step back and swayed slightly, his head swimming and pounding like all the blood had just rushed to it. What was wrong with him?

"... Thank you for catching me. I'm fine now." V said softly, his head still swimming. It was like he was caught in an echo chamber. The sensation was nauseating. "And for my bag, Dante. I appreciate it."

Vergil craned his head to the side, giving him a thinly concealed look of what V identified as concern. Or, at least that's what he thought it was. He couldn't be sure, but that was the reaction that made the most sense to him.

"Your a poor liar," Vergil said with a huff, steadying him by grabbing his forearm. He was trying his level best to look calm and composed, but the eldest Son of Sparda was admittedly still playing over how things could have gone if he hadn't caught him." We decided to wait for you. Can you stand?"

The hint of concern in his father's voice and the way that Vergil had offhandedly asked him if he was alright resonated with him, catching him slightly by surprise. Getting used to Vergil treating him like this was going to take a lot of getting used to. He hoped he wouldn't need to. Constantly being in danger didn't agree with his physical composition. 

Where had his demonic blood failed him? 

Why did he suffer from such a distinct lack of… durability?

V took a moment to fix the loose white button down shirt that Kyrie had absolutely insisted he wear on this trip when she had surprised him and Nero with them. Apparently she'd wanted to take pictures of them in matching outfits. Despite the fact that he was still wearing loose pants and Nero was wearing knee length shorts, the prospect of a photo opp still gave him hypertension. But Kyrie had asked so…

"I'll be fine. We should go and meet Nero and the others. I'm sure the children have overthrown him by now." V said as he rubbed his shoulder in mild discomfort. He was relatively sure he'd pulled something when Vergil caught him under the arm. It was a fact of life that his bones despised him and possessed the combined durability of a broken light bulb and the rigidity of a dry spaghetti noodle. His physical composition seemed engineered to fail painfully at times, especially when his limbs simply stopped working like his leg had on the stairs. "And I suppose we should have that talk now, shouldn't we?

Vergil nodded slowly, giving him a careful look as Dante headed towards the front door. He could tell they needed a moment, so giving them some space had been a no brainier. 

"Yes, I believe that might be the right course of action. Come then." Vergil said as he stepped past him. He paused for a moment, turning back towards V," Ah yes… I almost forgot."

With that, he snagged V's bag and turned back towards the door, walking a few steps before stopping. He seemed to be waiting for him. V took the hint and followed after them both, flabbergasted. It seemed that there was some unwritten rule stating that he was not permitted to carry bags while in his father's company. He wasn't sure how he felt about that yet, to be honest.

(-~-)

Thanks for reading this chapter! I'm happy today I finished it on Monday at 6:20 am! I'm not glad that I'm up this late, per say. I'm just glad that I'll be finished with Friday's chapter come Thursday morning! Being on schedule for once is a nice feeling. Have a safe week and I'll see you again on Friday!

[wetalkinboutbooks]

Realm of Ash by Tasha Suri

Summary:  The fate of an empire rests in the hands of a young woman with magical blood and nothing left to lose, and an outcast prince determined to save his family at any cost, in this "dark, melodious, and memorable" new fantasy (Library Journal, starred review) from the author of the award-winning Empire of Sand.

The Ambhan Empire is crumbling. A terrible war of succession hovers on the horizon. The only hope for peace lies in the mysterious realm of ash, where mortals can find what they seek in the echoes of their ancestors' dreams. But to walk there requires a steep price.

Arwa is determined to make the journey. Widowed by a brutal massacre, she's pledged service to the royal family and will see that pledge through to the end. She never expected to be joined by Zahir, the disgraced, illegitimate prince who has turned to forbidden magic in a desperate bid to save those he loves.

Together, they'll walk the bloody path of their shared past. And it will call into question everything they've ever believed...including whether the Empire is worth saving at all. (Taken from Goodreads)

Our Ratings:  

 → Geena:  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

 → Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 

Overall: Realm of Ash is a great follow-up to Empire of Sand, where we follow Arwa who was introduced briefly in Empire of Sand. There is quite a bit of political intrigue in the first half which sets the pacing a bit slow but picks up quickly once the characters go through big revelations. The characters and their motivations draw you in, and overall it was a good read!

~Check out our spoiler Full Review Below

A QUICK SUMMARY: 

So, this book picks up twelve years later from where we last visited this world in Empire of Sand. In this book, we are following the story of a once minor character, Mehr’s little sister, Arwa. Arwa has grown and married and been widowed when we meet her again. She is on her way to a widows hermitage where she is to live out the rest of her days in mourning, after losing her husband. 

Since the Maha’s death, this world had descended into chaos. The daiva, aka, eternal spirits, aka CHILDREN OF THE GODS, have been wreaking a bit of havoc on the world. If you remember, the Maha was manipulating the dreams of the Gods to favour the kingdom. When he was defeated, those dreams had begun to take their natural course. With dreams come nightmares. And those nightmares have taken form. BUT. The daiva protect their own blood, which is the Amrithi people. Arwa is half Amrithi, but she isn’t sure if the daiva are there to protect or hurt her. In addition, her mother (aka stepmom) raises her believing that Amrithi are cursed and savages, and essentially taught her to hate herself. 

In the widow’s hermitage, she meets an influential widow, Gulshera, and realizes she has connections to the imperial family and because Arwa doesn’t care about anything she offers herself up as a tool to the royals. So, Gulshera takes Arwa to serve under Princess Jihan, we’re subjected to court politics and meet Prince Zahir, aka a bastard. Together, Arwa and Zahir work together to find the Maha in the Realm of Ash (essentially a spirit world) so they can unlock a way to save the empire from ruin. Princess Jihan turns around and essentially implies that she sent Arwa to Zahir to ‘PLEASE’ him in an INTIMATE fashion. Arwa doesn’t take it and gets mad but Zahir isn’t here for it and it’s smooth sailing again. 

During a trip into the Realm of Ash Arwa realizes the truth behind her Amrithi blood and the Maha’s crimes and shares it with Zahir. They both struggle, Arwa being staunchly anti-empire and Zahir trying to do something to prove his worth to his sister. When the emperor dies, he names Zahir as the Maha’s heir and Jihan’s older brother Prince Akhtar as Emperor. A few murders later, a different Emperor sits on the throne and Zahir has a bounty on his head. Zahir and Arwa use the aid of a secret women’s society Zahir’s mom was a part of to escape to where the Maha was stationed to find the secret to the empire’s success, discovering cursed towns, ghosts from their pasts, and their feelings for one another. 

The Good:

→ Zahir

Kae:  So ZAHIR! I love him. He is as kind as a kitten. As sweet as an apple pie. But because he is a bastard, he is hidden away in tombs that were converted to be his rooms. There, he does research on how to restore peace and order to the Empire. He knows his days are numbered, being the bastard son of the Emperor, so he is essentially doing research to bargain his own life. Besides that, he genuinely likes learning and spent the majority of his days doing that anyway before he was banished to the tombs to live in secret. 

When we first meet Zahir, he is studying by candlelight in his rooms. Arwa finds a bit of power in him not noticing her, and takes the time to watch him for a moment. She thinks he’s handsome with his ‘pretty face’ and sharp, slender form. She’s like “damn he’s kinda hot… but I'm a widow… I’m not allowed to think boys are hot anymore.” But alas, she thinks he handsome. So they assess each other for a moment and agree to be apprentice and teacher.. Zahir gives Arwa poems and books to read that will help her better understand about the Realm of Ash and what he is working on. 

Geena: Arwa wears a veil for 90% of the book because such is the way of the widow, so she makes a point to stare at Zahir through her veil because she knows he can’t see her checking him out. And this boy turns around and hands her poetry, the more we learn about the nocturnal prince the more you realize he’s such a Soft Boi™ who loves literature and wants to desperately prove that his life has worth. His mother was killed because she tried to give the Emperor some advice, and the Empire of Ambha drinks the ‘women aren’t shit’ juice so she was labelled a traitor and murdered. Zahir only survives because Princess Jihan loves him, and as a legitimate spoiled princess she has to be pampered. Zahir has the ability to study and work with magic, because his mother was part of a secret women’s society that did so and it was passed onto him, so he’s been tasked with figuring out a way to stop the Empire’s decline ever since the Maha died. 

His character made me sad a little bit, because he feels like he should have died with his mother to some extent. And Jihan has led him to believe that his life being worth something depends solely on the fact if he can find the Maha’s spirit and save the empire. He’s treated like trash by everyone else because he’s a bastard and into witchcraft, even Arwa thinks he’s a weirdo in the beginning. But he’s such a kind-hearted soul?? Who btw respects women, when Arwa accuses him of tryna sleep with her, Zahir is like “MA’AM, I RESPECT YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART IDK WHAT SHIT MY SISTERS BEEN DRINKING BUT I WOULD NEVER!” well, he’s less dramatic than that but yea he suggests laying out rules so they don’t cross the apprentice/teacher dynamic. Also, during one trip into the Realm of Ash and Arwa’s veil comes off and she literally snaps at him to not look at her face (bc it is not the widow way) he straight up doesn’t look at her face ever for a good portion of the book after that skfjdf.  

Kae: YEH HE JUST LOOKS AT HER HANDS. SOFTIE. I LOVE HIM. 

Geena: Hand fetish IM JOKING… BUT SNDKFJDNST THAT’S ALL I COULD IMAGINE.. Arwa was like “Man, my veils off but this boy is still looking at my HANDS” 

The Bad:

→ Gulshera and the Royals

Kae: Gulshera! Ohh, she made me mad at the end. But like, I get it, ya know? So Gulshera, our bow-wielding widow, was Princess Jihan’s nursemaid and confidant. So when Gulshera finds out Arwa is Amrithi (because Arwa got caught trying to rid the Hermitage of daiva) she basically goes to Arwa like “You know you gotta get up outta here right? You can’t stay here, shawty.” But she gives Arwa the option of possibly going to the Empire and devoting herself to the Princess and her cause for solving the Empires bad luck. So Arwa goes, meets Zahir, yada yada yada. 

Gulshera asks Arwa very vague questions about what she’s doing but doesn’t exactly want to know what Arwa is doing. She just a lil nosey. So after a while, the Emperor dies and the named prince is killed by his brother. Zahir is next and he and Arwa escape. Eventually, they are found in the desert where Gulshera shoots the shit out of Arwa’s shoulder. It’s such a bad blow that Arwa is pretty much bleeding out. I was like, yo what the FUCK GULSHERA. 

Geena: YEA LIKE SHE PRETENDS TO BE HER ALLY AND CARE FOR HER BUT TURNS AROUND AND IS LIKE “SORRY BABES IMPERIALISM ALWAYS WINS” 

Kae: AND THAT’S THE TEA BAYBEEEEEE. IT was such bullshit. But again, I get it. Gulshera is like “It’s either me or you… And I raised the princess so imma do what she says and also I knew her longer soooo…. Bye Arwa. This will haunt me for the rest of my days… but it be like that.” 

Geena: Kae covered Gulshera really well! But yea she was a stank old lady in the end, like you’re essentially the reason Arwa is where she is but you’re acting like you had nothing to do with anything. BUT N E WAYS, I’m gonna talk about Princess Jihan a lil bit because she annoyed me too. She was privileged and used Arwa like a ragdoll, actually not even just Arwa but her brother she claimed to love too. Jihan really guilt-tripped the FUCK out of Zahir being all “Did I save you from nothing? Do I deal with other’s scrutiny for nothing? Prove your worth to me brother, prove that I’ve placed my love in the right man” and I was like……  bitch…. She might have been a princess but she was the queen of emotional manipulation. Also, she claimed to be for the women but essentially told Arwa that one of her jobs was to fuck Zahir and like…. Hello….. What is wrong with you. 

OH AND ANOTHER THING… when it’s revealed that the Maha used Amrithi people to shape the Empire’s success, and Zahir confronts Jihan about this she’s like “Yea, and?” like she saw no problem in using a group of people and villainizing them in the same breath…  Imperialism is a hell of a drug 

The Ugly:  

→ The Nightmare

Kae: So the Nightmare was truly… A nightmare. 

When we first learn about how Arwa became a widow, we learn about an incident that took place at a military base called Darez Fort. Darez Fort is where Arwa stayed with her husband, Kamran. We learn some soldiers come back with what they think is a Daiva, trapped in a little cage/crate thing. When they open it up, it appears to be a childlike creature. But it soon reveals a face of white bone and attacks everyone in the fort. The Nightmare makes the men turn on each other as well and it’s quite literally a blood bath. Everyone is dead. The maids, the cooks, the soldiers, and Kamran. All killed. BUT THERE IS A DAIVA THERE. It’s Arwa’s litter guardian angel. She knows her blood protects her, so in a panic, she makes this big ass cut on her arm and surrounds herself with her blood. The Daiva protects her from the Nightmare and she is the only survivor of Darez Fort. 

The Nightmare leaves a sense of fear in Arwa that literally makes her shake. She can kind of sense when it’s near. So on her journey with Zahir and a guards woman named Eshara, they end up at another fort for a rest. Some soldiers are ordered by this mean ass general to stay inside the fort because they aren’t allowed to leave. This is when Arwa gets that chilling sense of fear as she did in Darez Fort. SOME EVIL SHIT IS AFOOT. 

Geena: Yesss, the nightmares are like anti-daiva essentially. I really liked their concept and how they factored in with the worldbuilding. What makes them terrifying is that the Maha spent how many centuries fending off nightmares by using Amrithi, but suddenly without him to control how gods dream, nightmares are flooding the empire. Arwa manages to defeat the nightmares by unlocking the memories of her past ancestors from the Realm of Ash and crudely dancing a rite that locks nightmares in cages. Along with Zahir, Arwa figures out that nightmares consider themselves some sort of god and love to be worshipped. Both Zahir and Arwa decide that the empire can rot, and the nightmares can do what they want but they’ll teach anyone with amrithi blood to dance the rite and worship the nightmares to prevent any more massacres like Darez Fort.

→ Maha

Geena: God….. This stankass wrinkly-ass bitchboy really sunk his claws so deep into the Ambhan people that after he died, he was thought to be a martyr. Like 12 years after his death and people still worship him, and mourn his death? Mehr and Amun went through so much to end his reign of terror yet the empire continued to worship him. I’m sure they didn’t have the time or power to go around and spread the truth behind the Maha’s work but good LORD was it grating to read people missing that disgusting man. But thinking back on it, even if Amun and Mehr had exposed him… would people have believed an Amrithi couple that killed their beloved Maha? They probably would’ve killed them instead :(

Though, this was an interesting detail that Tasha Suri included. That, despite the evil being defeated, people will refuse to acknowledge it as evil and continue to point fingers at marginalized people for the problems caused by the evil being. 

The Awesome:

→ Arwa and Mehr

Kae: If y’all could see me now, you would see me doing a little dance because BIIIIITCH. I WAS LIVIIIIING SOLELY FOR MEHR AND ARWA TO MEET UP AGAIN. EVERY PAGE I WAS LIKE “is Arwa gonna talk about Mehr? Does she miss her sister?” AND SHE DID SOMETIMES AND I LOVED IT. AND THEN ARWA SAID SHE WAS TOLD HER SISTER HAD DIED AND I WAS LIKE NOOOOO. SHE IS ALIVE, ARWA. SHE IS ALIIIIVE. 

So when Arwa was in the Realm of Ash, she had seen Mehr and was SHOOK. Because you can only see dead relatives in the Real of Ash. So she actively avoided Mehr in the Realm because it hurt too much to see her there. It just confirmed that her sister was dead. And even I was confused because I was like “Ummm, Tasha… I know you didn’t kill off my girl after she done went through all that shit.” So I started thinking…. Because in the Realm of Ash, you saw the dead as grey ash. Shadows. But she saw Mehr in colour and full of life. So I had this theory that since Mehr has Amata (Amrithi spiritual magic closer to the ancestors) that she was seeing Mehr in the realm because of how close Mehr’s amata was so the ancestors and daiva. 

GUESS WHO WAS RIGHT BITCH? MEEEEEE. I CALLED THAT SHIT. IT’S MY SUPERPOWER. So like, as Arwa is dying from that arrow bitchass GUlshera shot her with, she ventures into the Realm and see’s Mehr again. She calls out to her, and Mehr sees her. She promises to find her. 

When Zahir and Arwa escape from his sister’s claws, the daiva take them out into the desert. Mehr eventually finds them and brings them back to her home. When Arwa wakes up, she is greeted by Mehr bandaging her up. They cry and hug. I CRY BECAUSE I’M SO DAMN HAPPY. I LOVE A GOOD REUNION. MEHR LOVED ARWA SO MUCH AND ARWA LOVED MEHR. AND THEY WERE SEPERATED AND HADN’T EVEN KNOWN THE OTHER WAS STILL ALIVE. AND THERE THEY WERE. TOGETHER. AND ALIVE AND HUGGING AND CRYING. It was beautiful. I was like, ugly crying. So thank you, Tasha. Thank you for writing that scene so well because it was happy and emotional and they both deserved to see each other again. It will go down as one of my top 5 reunion scenes. 

I’d also like to say, unrelated to Mehr-- That Awra and Zahir did admit their love for each other and kissed. And Zahir was Arwa’s, and Arwa was Zahir’s, though they made it clear that they belonged to no one. They belonged to each other. And their love was so soft and built on mutual respect. They were both very lonely and longed for one another, but never pursued because Arwa didn’t want to break the honour code of the “widows way” or whatever, and Zahir didn’t want to disrespect her. BUT THEIR MINDS. THEY LOVED EACH OTHER. So they both finally gave in. And it was lovely. 

Geena: ugghh yess, Arwa and Zahir’s relationship was based on mutual respect and love (just like Mehr and Amun!). In both instances, people forced them together but it was only through their own agency that they fell in love with one another, and support each other wholeheartedly. 

ALSO, THE REUNION KSJNFKSJF I had a suspicion that Mehr was alive too based on everything that Kae mentioned too! So, when Mehr says to Arwa that she’ll come for her I sCREAMED!!!! I loved it so much, them crying in each other’s arms… Arwa seeing Mehr’s own kid… LIKE HELLO??? 

Kae: AND TASH SAID HER AND AMUN COULDN’T HAVE KIDS BECAUSE OF THE RITES SO I WAS SHOOK AND HAPPY AND OMG. literally SCREAMING. 

Geena: YEA I REMEMBER THAT, BUT THEN I ALSO REMEMBERED YOUR THEORY! Where the Maha had said that people that danced the rite couldn’t have children because he tried to impregnate amrithi women he enslaved but it didn’t work… and Kae you’d said it was probably because he was shooting dust and YOU WERE RIGHT!!!

Kae: IT’S MY SUPERPOWER. IM TELLING YOU. I CAN GUESS THE SHIT OUT OF SHIT. 

Geena: KJDSFNKSDJF I LOVE YOUR SUPERPOWER!!! My only complaint was that we didn’t get a longer scene with Mehr/Amun and Arwa/Zahir bonding :( I wanted mooorreee… other than that it was everything! 

Conclusion

Geena: TO CONCLUDE! Tasha Suri didn’t disappoint with this sequel… and it’s so easy to write a shitty sequel but she was like nAH WE’RE NOT ABOUT THAT LIFE. And we loved it! There was a slow start as we read Arwa struggling with her internalized hate, but after she realized that she came from a people who have survived in Ambha in the face of adversity the book sped up real fast. The romance was so soft and wholesome and everything that we want in a relationship, Tasha knows EXACTLY what she’s doing when she’s writing romance. I don’t trust anyone else with a romance this soft, and I cannot wait to read her upcoming series that feature a wlw couple.  

Kae: GEENA SAID IT ALL. Tasha knows how to write a romance. I love soft boi’s that will also murder a man for you if need me. LIKE YAAAS HE’S SENSITIVE AND RESPECTS ME AND WILL BEAT SOMEONE'S ASS FOR ME. WE LOVE TO SEE IT. Honestly though, overall, this was such a stunning sequel. Because Geena and I have read some sequels that were…. How to say this nicely… fucking terrible. Tasha is a phenomenal writer and I know her upcoming series will be great too! This book was full of lessons. One being, SELF HATRED IS FUCKING TRASH. SO LOVE YOURSELF AND YOUR RICH BACKGROUND. BECAUSE PEOPLE WILL LOOK DOWN ON YOU  FOR WHO YOU ARE AND WHERE YOU COMF FROM SOMETIMES, AND YOU JUST GOTTA SAY FUCK ‘EM AND KEEP IT MOVING. 

Geena: JKSNFKJSNDSKJF YAAAS, ALSO IK IT WAS BRIEF BUT LIKE DAMN… TASHA REALLY WENT HARD WITH THE AMRITHI IN THIS BOOK AND HOOBOY… Like the insights into past ancestors? And the fact that there are so many mixed Amrithi people that have been forced to hide their heritage… once again…  I M P E R I A L I S M and G E N O C I D E… this series covered it pretty well… PLEASE READ AND SUPPORT TASHA 

[blankdblank]

Not a Boot

@deepestfirefun​ - it’s late and i’m miserable, couldn’t sleep, hope you like this :D

…

Adam Lambert - For Your Entertainment lyrics used

...

Singing to yourself you opened the box of cold medicine you pushed one of the tablets free of to then pop between your lips and swallow with a swig of water. Bearing through the aching of your body and the end of your fever you were coming off of on yet another trip to the toilet after your near gallon of water today. Hoping that the tune would somehow make the meds kick in faster.

So hot

Out the box

Can you pick up the pace?

In a slide out of the bathroom you eyed the normal set up for your online videos, small cartoons of your own making you posted on your website about any and everything, how you made your living, tiny bit ridiculous to some. But still getting a job with a serious company required experience, and training, both of which you were lacking and forcing yourself by practice, practice, practice. Faceless to the world you entertained literally millions of followers and were finally getting some slap in the face offers from actual networks to put a full ‘professional’ team on a few of your stories. Yet they were offers all the same and you knew more were sure to follow.

 Turn it up

Heat it up

I need to be entertained

 The latest offer coming on the heels of some surprising tabloid fodder you were certain was part of your fever. A five page add with your face in a few passing pictures entering the lavish hotel a few minutes before one of the Ereborean Princes, Dwalin Durin. Not a direct heir but cousin to the third in line, Crown Prince Thorin. Serious, broad, bold, adventurous and downright delectable in every way from his tailored suits and surprisingly fitting hairstyle with both sides of his head shaved and the center in thick beaded braids. Usually off in the world exploring between his competitive water polo team games that had him off to represent the country in the last games to victory alongside two of his cousins, Crown Prince Thorin and Prince Frerin.

Not ten minutes after you had been seen leaving, an outstanding sundress clad woman in the sea of suit wearing men bustling in and out, the Prince left as well leaving for some assumptions to be made of a hidden affair the crown was hiding from the public.

It was laughable, but the image of pretending to have a lunch alone with the stunning Prince adoringly scattered in your episodes, along with other royals, who all loved their respectably humorous roles in them, it was tempting and almost painful to have lost out on without having had the chance.

 Push the limit

Are you with it?

Baby, don't be afraid

I'm a hurt 'ya real good, baby

 Turning from the cutout you eyed the clip you pressed of the Elf King in his cameo on your show, dancing in a top hat, cane and tails with shimmering cape in a sea of ents as a comment on his new forest path plan. Conservation and a promise to plant 500,000 new saplings this year to replace the portion they had to do a preventive burn to ready for the expected heat wave on the tail end of a bout of bad storms. You agreed fully, and in the comic had added a banner with the info on how others could help he surely would appreciate the help and attention for it in a more entertaining way than a press conference.

 Let's go

It's my show

Baby, do what I say

Don't trip off the glitz

That I'm gonna display

I told ya

I'm a hold ya down until you're amazed

Give it to ya 'til you're screaming my name

 Still the tabloid was on your mind and saving your clip and work you closed out of feeling the drowsiness amping up again you smacked your lips craving fruit and pulled up the site for your favorite fruit baskets and you scrolled through. And that was all you could remember before waking up the next morning in your bed under a mess of covers and painful tingling as you’d slept wrong on two limbs you groaned through their awakening debating if you truly needed them.

 No escaping when I start

Once I'm in I own your heart

There's no way you'll ring the alarm

So hold on until it's over

 ***

Grumbling from a sore post workout lounging session at the doorbell sounding Dwalin closed his eyes for a moment hearing the head guard approaching the door after closing the door to the living room he was in. From the security check at the front gate and the next at the gate for the cottage he shared with the young Princes across from the one housing Princes Dis and her husband Vili and two small boys on the lavish Palace grounds in the center of Erebor the teen carrying the delivery had arrived terribly nervous from the ordeal to grin widely at the next guard he encountered. A medium sized fruit bouquet along with a manila folder, all of which had been confirmed that it was fully sealed and not tampered with while the documents inside the checked and copied. The original remained with the main guards at the Palace for further inspection while the copies of the message had been passed on for delivery.

 Oh, do you know what you got into?

Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do?

'Cause it's about to get rough for you

I'm here for your entertainment

 Through the now open door the box was carried and the seal broken for unveiling the plastic dome encased and wrapped fruit bouquet that had the trio of Princes inching closer to. Glancing up at the guard Thorin asked, “Gran is upping her demands on fruit intake?”

The guard shook his head stating, “No, your highness, special delivery for Prince Dwalin.” The folder was passed over making his brows furrow in thanking the guard who bowed his head and retreated from the room while the brothers moved to sit beside their cousin.

Instantly a smirk eased across his lips seeing the folded letter with writing across the front of it clearly feminine he read aloud, “To the Dashing, ooh, dashing.” That made the brothers chuckle around him and bump his arms with theirs, “Dashing Prince Dwalin.”

Opening the letter he cleared his throat and read in a curious tone, “Truly a pity for the children’s sake that we have never met. Hope you enjoyed your lunch, mine was perfectly mundane.” In a turn of the note over he asked, “What the-..?” Peering into the folder he pulled out the copy of a section of the tabloid sent along with it, and let out a chuckle reading the title under the title under the pictures set side by side of you and the Prince having some secret affair with the sweater held against your belly alluding to a hidden baby. Across the final page there was a heart and the runes he read out, “When we are old and grey, look back and say, it wasn’t a boot, she bought me some fruit.”

In a loud laugh Frerin says, “At least it rhymes.”

Thorin laughed out, “Downright adorable, cousin.”

Dwalin shook his head, “At least she has a sense of humor about it.”

Frerin stole a glance seeing Dwalin looking at your picture again then said, “Perhaps Gran might allow you to meet her.”

At that Dwalin couldn’t help but smirk to himself and set the papers aside to start sampling on the food making him rumble out, “She certainly won’t object her choice of snack to deliver.”

 Oh, I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet

'Ya thought an angel swept you off ya feet

But I'm about to turn up the heat

I'm here for your entertainment

 ***

A doorbell had you groaning and lazily swinging your leg over in a turn to plant your foot on the side of your bed in a climb to your feet. Under your breath you mumbled, “Why, why is someone at my door? I know no one, no one knows me. Who is spoiling my perfectly dreadful lounging evening?”

Unlocking the door you swung it open and on the other side of it for some inexplicable reason you let out a shriek and slammed the door in the face of the Royal Messenger now wide eyed with his head tilted slightly when you cracked the door open again with your hand over your mouth and you cleared your throat, “I apologize. You did not deserve that. I just woke up, sorry, yes? Do you need directions?”

With a hint of a smirk he replied, “No, Miss Pear. I am here to pass on a message.”

“A-, for me? Is this about the dancing penguin episode?”

With a playful smirk he reached into his pocket and passed you a sealed envelope with a telling orange bag, accepting the envelope he nodded his head at the envelope, “I was tasked to ensure you opened the pair of them.”

“Ah,” in a glance at the row of photographers on the sidewalk outside your stoop then stepped back, in a glance through the front hall he stepped forward and let you close the door and set the bag down on the chest beside the door to break the seal on the envelope.

“Miss Pear,

I must say it was a pleasant surprise to have received your gift and message. Lunch was tolerable, work as usual. If you are free Thursday at eleven. Hope you enjoy the gift, pictures were a bit unfocused, to help find you.

The ‘Dashing’ Prince Dwalin.”

Inhaling sharply you felt your face turning red as you mumbled, “I sent a gift, to the Prince,” turning around you hurried through the archway on your right to start the search for your phone only to head for your laptop catching a glimpse of the Guard peeking in at you pulling up your email and confirmation of the message you had added to the delivery of fruit making you smooth your hands over your face. “I can only imagine what I wrote.”

In a groan you popped up and made your way back to the front hall where you flashed the Guard another grin and went to peer into the bag and pull out a periwinkle cardigan luring a pitiful squeak from you when you noticed the brand on the buttons and label.

Looking up at him you asked, “Seriously? This is a loaner or something?”

He shook his head, “No, it is yours to keep. I am to ask if you are free?”

“I-, yes?”

With a nod he stated, “A car will be around to fetch you. Enjoy your day, Miss Pear.”

In a whisper you replied, “You too,” watching him move to step out through your front door holding in his chuckles only to pause asking, “This is like a dress thing?” His brow inched up, “If you know, would this be a wear a dress thing?”

“That would probably be a safe bet.” Earning a nod from you along with soft thanks he nodded to in return while closing the door behind him finally freeing his chuckle while you turned to head to your closet to see if you had anything nice while also being casual.

 *

It's alright

You'll be fine

Baby, I'm in control

 “Your Highness, Miss Pear is free on Thursday.”

Turning to face the Guard he grinned and asked as the brothers grouped around him and he asked, “What did she say? Precisely.”

In a chuckle the Guard asked, “The very first thing?” Dwalin nodded and he said, “Miss Pear, shrieked at me.” Making their brows shoot up, “And slammed the door.” In his chuckle he continued, “Then promptly opened the door to apologize saying I didn’t deserve that and she had just woken up. Asked if I needed directions.” The grins on the Princes grew as he shared the rest of the encounter.

Frerin, “She was uncertain of what she had sent?”

The guard nodded, “She did not seem hung over,” answering their question, “I did notice cold remedies on her coffee table.”

In a chuckle Thorin said, “That explains it. Stirring a fever in the poor Lass.”

Dwalin couldn’t help but chuckle saying, “Perhaps we should send some soup as well?” Looking to his cousins who chuckled again and went to help him pick his clothes.

 Take the pain

Take the pleasure

I'm the master of both

 More days of painful practice to ready for the first match of the season and more than usual he was nervous for it because you would be there. Surely thanks to the soup and other herbal remedies you were sure to be fully mended and able to sit through the match comfortably as well as dinner after if you agreed to it. Exhaling steadily he shook his hands and finished fixing his hair and beard back into their usual beaded braids before heading to join is cousins off to the pre match meeting.

 Close your eyes

Not your mind

Let me into your soul

I'm a work it 'til you're totally blown

*

With lips parted you saw you were off to the stadium around the official pool for a water polo match. Internally you were excited to see a full match in person only to have seen clips of the sport before. Right to the boxed off set of stands up next to the home side you were led and found yourself alone mumbling internally, “Great, lovely time.” Glancing up to see the box of cameramen photographing you and pointing as if they had recognized you. Eyes followed their attention and brushing the skirt against your thighs on the navy blue dress fully covering your chest with capped sleeves hidden under the open periwinkle cardigan was hard to miss. As were the stockings you had on sheer from your waist to mid thigh then pitch black down to your heeled velour black booties when you crossed your legs. A tilt of your head had the long raven curls eased over your chest to smooth your fingers through it ignoring the flashes making your purple eyes flash brighter luring more and more when the tip of a pointed ear came into view.

All at once the stands erupted in the entrance of the teams, and in the filing to their seats on your right you caught the eye of the Prince now, after a stunned moment of staring with a smirk on his face at your quick flinch of a wave he chuckled at then glanced between his cousins hanging over him commenting on you.

 No escaping when I start

Once I'm in I own your heart

There's no way you'll ring the alarm

So hold on until it's over

Run ragged and trying not to focus on how you were taking the match finally they won and to his discovery from Thorin you had kept biting your lip and cheek, while Frerin said you had seemed a bit slow on reacting to the match making them assume you weren’t that well versed in the game. A welcome discovery where he could teach you and share his passion for the sport you might come to love too. Only in their filing out a glance back had him noticing your own path heading up the steps again stirring up a few moments of panic until through the guards waiting in the locker room he heard you had gone to the bathroom.

 Oh, do you know what you got into?

Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do?

'Cause it's about to get rough for you

I'm here for your entertainment

 The message was passed on and brought back to a private area back by the locker rooms no doubt for meeting fans or officials. Up at the pictures on the wall you smirked tracing back the history only to have your head shift at the sound of the door creaking. When your head turned however suddenly your hands clasped over your mouth in a shriek making the same Guard from earlier snicker and glance up for a moment to keep from crying when you lowered your hands to say in a shake of your head, “I did not just scream in your face.”

His brows inched up, “Oh you didn’t? My mistake then, Miss Pear.” Smiling wider at you.

“Nope, full respectful curtsy and formal greeting.”

“A lovely one it was too.” He chuckled out feeling his cousins watching him from the door behind you beaming at the blush on your ears.

“Thank you, for the sweater, and the soups, and herbs. And in my defense of the note I was on some very strong cough medicine.” In the deepening of his gaze into yours seeing the silver flecks trapped inside your eyes and random silver hairs woven into your tight curls helping to make your hair shimmer you asked, “What did I write?”

Shaking his head he replied playfully, “I think I might keep that to myself. But I did admire the poem.”

“Oh I didn’t!”

In a chuckle he nodded, “You did.”

In a momentary press of your palm to your cheek you mumbled, “I’m dreadful with poems.”

He chuckled again looking you over then said, “I have a table reserved if you wanted to join me for dinner. And no need to enter separately.” In the twitch of your brow upwards he added, “Come on, for the kids.”

“Kids?”

He chuckled again asking, “I have to ask, how often do you end up sending gifts to Nobles.”

After a nip of your lip you answered, “Never.”

“Oh really, and what would your parents think?”

You shrugged, “For mom, probably be glad to hear of something other than school or nappies. Not counting hearing about Dad’s day in office.”

Making his brow inch up, “What does he do?”

“He’s Thain,” in his moments pause you said, “Hobbitons don’t have Kings, we have Thains. They’re elected but my family’s been in office for sixty three generations.”

“Oh, shouldn’t you have a guard then?”

“Well, I have 13 sisters and 6 brothers,” dropping his jaw, “with another on the way, doubt we have enough security for us all. Besides, I’m the well behaved one.”

At that he chuckled again, “I bet.” In a shift on his feet his hand motioned to the side, “Dinner?” After your quick nod the brothers rushed away and hid for your walk out to head to the waiting car and the photographers waiting to capture every moment. While all he could think of was how badly he wanted to kiss that blush back onto your cheeks.

 Oh, I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet

'Ya thought an angel swept ya off your feet

Well I'm about to turn up the heat

I'm here for your entertainment

Pt 2

[taeyongtime]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 thats 125 roses :3 ❤️❤️❤️❤️

i purposely saved this one for last because you, my friend, are big brain 👍125 sentences for 125 roses *slow claps*. in respect of such a big brain move, the following preview is for a hogwarts!au feat. hufflepuff!taeyong and slytherin!reader. i’ve actually already finished it, but it’s supposed to be a joint work with another writer, so i haven’t posted even though it’s basically completed. 

for every “🌹” received in my inbox i’ll post one random sentence of a random WIP i’m currently writing

◆

It is no surprise that the first thing you hear stepping into Hogwarts is a question asking if you were Kim Doyoung’s sister.

Soon after the Sorting Hat places you with the tables of emerald green robes, upperclassmen and students your year flock to your seat next to your brother, who simply offers a smug nod as he begins a spiel of how the family had expected nothing less (old-money purebloods such as yourselves were a shoo-in for the Slytherin House, no doubt about it). Chimes of agreement follow, an occasional joke on how your parents would have reacted if you had been sorted into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff garnering a gasp of shock from the crowd.

Imagining if you had been sorted into Hufflepuff brings about a budding headache and you politely ask for them to give you space to eat, your stomach famished from the long train ride and the sheer conviction to not let go of your purse strings to purchase snacks from the cart that rolled down the aisle every hour or so. Luckily they oblige, and your brother sighs as you dig in, piling your plate high with potatoes, meats, basically a little bit of everything you can reach within arm’s distance.

“You’re going to become a pig if you continue to eat at this rate.”

“Oh, shut up and eat your own food already.”

Doyoung scoffs and picks apart his bread, tossing bit by bit into his mouth. “I hope you won’t speak to any of the Professors here in that tone.”

“Please stop nagging me when I’m eating, it’s annoying.”

A dirty look sent your way, he adds a final word of putting some vegetables onto your plate before leaving to find a different seat where someone would listen rather than provide a rebuttal to his every sentence. Naturally, you ignore his nagging and reach for another portion of potatoes, gravy dribbling down like a volcano had just erupted all over your plate. More meat, more biscuits, you eat until your stomach is at its limit, threatening to implode at everything you had just ingested.

Pushing your chair out, you search the sea of heads for your brother but fail to spot the lanky second year who was all the rage for the Slytherin House. Not wanting to remain in front of all the food and certainly not having the energy to sample any of the decadent desserts, you ask your neighbor on the right for directions to the Slytherin common room, heading out to find the entrance yourself without waiting for everyone else.

“Where do you think you’re going, little lady?”

Turning around, you meet the eyes of the headmaster, his hands clasped together as he waits for your answer.

“I… I think I ate too much,” you begin slowly, calculating each word spoken. “I wanted to look for the way to the Hospital Wing.”

“The Hospital Wing will be to your right. Madam Pomfrey will have something ready for you by the time you get there.”

“T-Thank you… Sir.”

“Next time, find someone to accompany you,” he adds with a knowing smile, “Especially when you have yet to discover the way to the Slytherin Common Room.”

Spooked, you hurry towards the Hospital Wing and endure another bout of nagging from Doyoung when he comes running after hearing from an upperclassman that you had gone to see the school nurse after the feast.

---

Year One is over before you know it, and you find yourself back on campus grounds again once August ends, following your brother off the Hogwarts Express and into the Great Hall to be seated for the new year’s welcoming ceremony and accompanying feast. Once you find a spot along the green tables for Slytherin House, your brother slides in on your right and another quickly fills in the left, the dimpled smile offered your way a sight for sore eyes.

“How was your summer, Y/N?”

“Bo-ring,” you reply in kind, rolling your eyes as your legs kick underneath the table. “You should’ve brought me with you to France, Jaehyun.”

“Next time,” the second year says with a chuckle. “I don’t think you would appreciate the beauty that is Quidditch when you never showed up to any of my games last year.”

“It’s a pointless sport,” you refute. “Chasing a little golden ball in the air while risking getting your teeth knocked out by Beaters? No thanks.”

“You just haven’t seen a good game yet.”

“Shh!” Your brother’s sharp voice hisses in your ear. “The Sorting is about to begin!”

A hush falls over the table as the Sorting Ceremony begins. Just last year you were one of those children waiting in line to be sorted, the feeling of anxiety at your sorting still as palpable as ever as you watch each sortee be divided into one of the four Houses at Hogwarts. A few enter the ranks of emerald, but most make their way to the rich scarlet and gold of Gryffindor or warm honey of Hufflepuff, two of the most popular houses across the campus compared to your very own.

“Really, you’re so yappy whenever you’re with Jaehyun.”

“Okay, Doyoung, go find somewhere else to eat at if you find me annoying.”

“I never said that.” Against your protests, he scoops some peas onto your plate along with some carrots. “Eat some vegetables, you need it.”

You immediately push the vegetables onto Jaehyun’s plate once Doyoung turns his head the other way, reaching for two slices of corned beef and a breadstick in lieu of the empty space next to the mountain of potatoes and gravy. Jaehyun finishes before you and you split half of your breadstick, keeping the left half while handing over the right.

“Thanks.”

“Did you not eat anything on the train?” you ask incredulously, amazed at his second full plate when you barely made a dent in yours.

“I did earlier, but I’m starving now. Haven’t had a bite since they were sold out of chocolate frogs.”

“Pig.”

He oinks in return and you laugh, catching a glance from your brother and ignoring it once his attention is again captured by someone else calling his name. You were used to it by now, the wonder boy that is Doyoung being the pride of Slytherin House since he first set foot onto Hogwarts.

Going to bed early after dismissal from the Great Hall, the next morning you return to the routine of classes, meals, homework, studying for exams, more homework, and so forth, a never-ending cycling of academia that left little room for leisure time when there was so much to do. Not one to socialize much and not at all interested in going to see Jaehyun at his Quidditch games, you spend most of your time in the library when you didn’t need to be in class, the peace and quiet comforting when you wanted to be alone (which was all the time).

Today, you find yourself not in the mood for Potions on such a fine sunny Tuesday afternoon, thus you make your way to the library once you finish lunch, courteously greeting the librarian before scurrying off to your favorite spot by the windows. Madam Pince was stern to all students entering the library, but your frequent appearance last year and diligence in following library rules made you tolerable in her book, hence the blind eye cast when you show up when it was clearly not a time for a student your year to be in the library when there were classes going on. Spreading out your bag and other things to lay claim onto the table, you head over to the Care of Magical Creatures section and pull a few volumes off the shelves. Two hours easily fly by as people begin to trickle in, your eyes scanning the pages of information on fairies, elves, and other creatures of the like. Currently not enrolled in a Care of Magical Creatures class, you ponder on the thought of taking it as an elective next year as you return the books you had just finished reading in exchange for new ones.

After making sure everything was placed back in the correct alphabetical order, your fingertips graze along the spine of each book as you wander down the shelves, eyes locking in on a volume regarding dragons when another set of hands reaches for it at the same time. The physical contact catches both you and him by surprise, neither saying a word until you break the silence as you glare at the black-and-gold robed Hufflepuff who wanted the same book as you.

“Let go, I got it first.”

“I… Go ahead.” He gestures for you to take the book and you do so, letting out a huff of indignation at the audacity after. Mumbling an apology again, he reaches for a book on the upper shelf and you roll your eyes before turning tail to return to your table. Waiting until your Potions class was over, you pack up your things and head to the librarian’s desk, only to be stopped in the process of checking out the book on dragons you had just successfully taken off the shelf.

“The gentleman behind you had put in a request to reserve this book.”

Your eyes meet the Hufflepuff who you’d bumped heads against, a hesitant smile etched across his lips as he points at the book in your hands. “I wanted to tell Madam Pince I found it on the shelf, but then you took it, so…”

“Fine.” You hand over the book gruffly and overlook the glare in Madam Pince’s eyes for your ‘rough treatment’ of school property. “Take it.”

“Have you finished reading it? If not—”

“Take it already.”

You flinch at the feeling of his fingers against yours and quickly pull your hand away, running out of the library without speaking another word. Tossing the encounter with the Hufflepuff out the window, you make your way back to the Slythern Common Room, where a certain Jung Jaehyun bounces up from his seat on one of the leather sofas the moment he sees you enter.

“You missed Potions today, Y/N.”

“Can I see your notes later?”

He nods without skipping a beat, grabbing your hand and pulling you after him. “Only if you come with me to watch one of my Quidditch games.”

“What,” you exclaim, “No, I don’t—”

“One game. We’re going to play right now against Hufflepuff; that’s all I ask in exchange for my notes.”

“Ugh, fine!” Forgoing the resistance, you let him drag you out and towards the stadium, where the stands were already divided to parades of yellow and green respectively. Not sure where to go since Jaehyun was a Beater on the Slytherin team, you inch your way through the lines of already-filled seats until you see Haechan, one of the first years that you knew through Doyoung. Your best friend should have at least saved you a seat if he was going to drag you to watch his game, the nerve.

“Is this spot taken?”

He shakes his head and you sit, accepting the offered pair of binoculars as the game begins. You recognize your brother’s voice over the speakers narrating the events of the game as all you see are broomsticks flying left and right, up down and back again while balls of every shape wiz by, threatening to knock unsuspecting players off their brooms. Cheers and boos simultaneously sounding out across the stadium, the whole ordeal is chaotic and you roll your eyes at how people found this entertaining and worth the time.

“Here,” you begin, handing back Haechan’s binoculars. “I’m going to go back to—”

“The Snitch! Lee Taeyong has just spotted the Golden Snitch!”

A hush falls over the entire crowd and you snatch back the binoculars, intrigued by the sudden overcast of silence. Through the lenses, you spot a lean figure picking up speed while chasing what looked to be a small golden ball. Recognizing him as the Hufflepuff from the library, you watch him zoom around the Slytherin team, ducking just in time to avoid a Bludger to the head. He reaches his arm forward and seals the Golden Snitch in his grasp, spinning to a loop-de-loop and throwing a fist in the air triumphantly with the Snitch fluttering its wings in defeat.

“And that’s the end of the game! Hufflepuff wins, 150 to 40!”

“That’s it?” you exclaim. “End game after he catches that stupid ball?”

“Y/N, the Snitch is worth 150 points,” Haechan deadpans. “It’s the fastest and hardest ball to see and catch out of everything that goes flying around; if the game doesn’t end after someone catches it, we’d be here all day.”

“Okay, I get that, but he caught it in like… just 20 minutes. Aren’t games usually longer than that?”

“Taeyong’s the best Quidditch Seeker at Hogwarts in all of the teams! No one’s been able to take the Quidditch Cup from Hufflepuff since he joined his first year.”

Impressed by the statistics, you aim your binoculars down at the grounds where both teams had landed and were getting ready to change out of their robes. Spotting the Hufflepuff Seeker immediately, you feel your heart grow warm at seeing the wide grin on his face after he made the winning catch, his teammates huddled around him as they lift him up in the air to celebrate another win under their belt.

“Hey, can I get my binoculars back now?”

Snapped out of your trance, you hand over the lenses back to Haechan, admiration growing in your chest for the Hufflepuff who had just quite possibly stolen a piece of your heart after the stellar performance right before your very eyes.

---

The rest of the year spent buttering up to one of the upperclassmen on the Slytherin Quidditch team to learn more about your growing crush on a certain Hufflepuff Quidditch Seeker, you find yourself dismayed that he was a year older than your brother, meaning it would be hard to find a chance to talk to him when the chance to share classes wasn’t possible at all. Yuta had figured it out after two minutes of answering your questions about Taeyong, but promised to keep it a secret after you made a deal to buy him a pack of Chocolate Frogs each time you went to Honeydukes, which was growing to be your favorite place to go to in Hogsmeade after obtaining the needed signature on the permission slip given your third year at Hogwarts. Clearly not in your favor when you went to Honeydukes at least once every weekend, but the emptiness in your purse was worth it if it meant you got to know just a little bit more about Taeyong despite only speaking with him once.

You weren’t the only one who had fallen into the group of people who had “Taeyong Syndrome” (as labeled by your brother), but you certainly spoke nothing of it when most of his fans were from his own house, not wanting to be teased when you were in Slytherin of all houses.

“Professor Slughorn sent me an invitation to a get-together tonight,” Jaehyun says to you one morning at the breakfast table. “Want to come?”

“No thanks,” you grimace. “I’m not interested in your little Slug Club parties.”

“But Doyoung said—”

“Especially not if Doyoung’s going to be there.”

[heartfulmind]

Do you have any headcanons about Shinsou's classmates we've seen so far? Like the Gen Ed students we see cheering for him during the SportsFest, or the ones who criticized Class 1-A during the cultural festival then apologized.

Hello Anon, I just need to say, thank you for watering my crops and clearing out my acne with this ask, truly, it isn’t that often that people ask about the General Department students so I’m eager to answer this one ♡ If anything, I’m caught up with the main manga and anime so far, so I’ll be basing my response from those two sources (mostly manga). Additionally, I just read a small sample of the light novel so that it could help me bump this response a bit further.

I’ll be splitting this answer into 2 sections: headcanons built from what we can see aka theories and studies, and headcanons I like to imagine or have built from what we gathered aka the “fun” headcanons. With that said, let’s get this bread.

Let’s start with what we do know; Class 1-C, D, and E are all classes from the General Department, the department where UA puts the rest of the hero hopefuls that couldn’t make it to the Hero Department :^) I’m doing this smiley face :^) because I’m feeling salty about that my unnamed children from Gen Ed that deserved better :^) but also, it houses students who just sought out for its high education, it’s what the General Department is. I’m setting this note down because it’s important and relevant, helping us understand why we see the General Education students the way we do. Now seriously, I’ll take us to our first section.

Theories and Studies Time

Here’s what I’m going to do in this section:

Show a shot of the manga/anime.

Describe what’s going on / what we can see.

Then make assumptions.

Chapter 24 (btw, the source I use for the manga is this one: https://www.mangareader.net/boku-no-hero-academia/34/8 )

Here we have Present Mic introducing the Hero Department, enthusiastically announcing their debut in the arena, then plainly announcing the entrances from the following departments. In the left corner, we can see Shinsou looking at his classmates who voice their opinions about the way they are being introduced, evidently unsatisfied.

Here, I got a close shot of the recurring students of 1-c. Now I’ll talk about this panel and what I see. Shinsou, a serious student, shows interest in what his classmates talk about, peeking at them and hearing a conversation he wasn’t involved in. His expression is blank, not mad nor upset, just nonchalant. He isn’t that far from them and the fact he turned a bit at the sound of their voice means that he can hear it all. Not appearing upset and also being attentive at what his classmates are saying, Shinsou is observant of his peers, a trait that can be overlooked or never thought of because of his “lone-wolf” and “I’m not here to make friends” persona. Also, the fella who rants uses words like, “us” and “we”, grouping all of them in the same boat.

Our first study: Shinso is attentive to his classmates and his classmates consider them all equal and undeserving of the low-quality intro they got.

Still Chapter 24

Midnight announces Bakugou up to deliver a speech since he placed the highest in the entrance exam. His classmates, astonished, are given light by the girl from Class 1-C that it was because of the entrance exam results.

The shot in which we see the Gen Ed trio here we see them unsatisfied an unimpressed. Both of the fellas have their arms crossed and look at the hero dept. with narrowed eyes. A sigh bubble comes from the girl. By this point, Shinsou isn’t looking at them, just straight ahead, hands in pockets. But once again, he hasn’t strayed himself far away from them, so surely he hears what his class is saying.

Our second study: The Gen Ed students are tight-knitted; Shinsou doesn’t distance himself from those two and those two don’t keep the brainwasher at an arm’s length. They are comfy with each other’s presence. Shinsou doesn’t mind them acting sassy hehe.

Chapter 34

I’m just gonna combine the explanation for both pages into one paragraph. After Shinsou’s fight with Midoriya and not emerging victorious from it, Shinsou looks down, upset. However, hearing the first cheers from his classmates, he looks surprised and looks up at them. Multiple kiddos from his class and pro-heroes alike are in awe of Shinsou’s capabilities. Shinsou then vows to Midoriya that he won’t give up.

We can see the shadow that casts over Shinsou’s face, but the moment he is given admiration, he is clear of any shading. I think this represents how he became illuminated by their kind words, meaning that he holds them with high regard. And how one of them chimes, “Can you hear them Shinsou?” after the pro-heroes compliment signifies that they keep a note of other people’s opinions from the audience. So if any of them had the audacity to talk bad about him, then that means that the students would’ve kept track of it too. They were attentive about anyone that spoke about their classmate Shinsou.

Our third study: His classmates aren’t wary of Shinsou since they were the first ones to say admiration to Shinsou, almost prideful that they have someone like him in their class. They hold him highly with their praises like how he deeply takes in their words, shortly after their words as if he was inspired. Words carry much meaning in their class.

Chapter 121

Okay uh, I won’t focus much on dialogue since every manga scan translations are different depending on the sources and all that jazz. Anyways, Basically, the Hero Department disrupts the flow of the line and Iida tells them to calm tf down desperately after Shinsou speaks up about it. His classmates follow Shinsou from behind.

We see the 1-c girl peek from Shinsou. Her face doesn’t look blank, but I wouldn’t consider it entirely emotionless. I think it’s more astonished, especially at the fact that her otherwise quiet classmate spoke up. Asides from the Sports Festival, Shinsou is leading them the way again.

Our fourth study: Every since his display at the Sports Festival, Shinsou gained some sort of respect that allowed him to be in the front lines. As if they want him to be representing their class and see him fitting of their role, letting him tell the Hero Dept. to get their act together.

Chapter 171

So this panel introduces two new students from the General Department, Tsutsutaka Agoyamato and Chikuchi Togeike. (I find it interesting that these two have names, but not the other kiddos we’ve seen- Also, we don’t know if they’re from Class 1-C, or if they’re even first years. Although, I don’t think they are from Class 1-C since they were able to freely check out Class 1-A’s show instead of being present in the haunted house, but idk.) Moving on, they basically critique Class 1-A’s decision of making a concert for everyone. They glare at the Class 1-A. Bakugou notices this. They engage eye-contact with Bakugou himself.

Our fifth study: They aren’t intimidated despite Bakugou’s famous aggressive nature. Either that they haven’t witnessed the Sports Festival, or truly, aren’t afraid of him, and nobody from the first years of the Hero Department since they speak at their hearing range. They do not need their approval as they criticize about the fact that the Hero Dept is doing this for the rest of the departments.

Chapter 173

Just focus on the bottom portion of this page. It is Class 1-C preparing their exhibit for the Cultural Festival. We see more new faces. Fellas are carrying boxes and another fella is near a table. The girl we occasionally see from Class 1-C has a sort of tool that helps with cutting wood. She comes at Shinsou with it, but only to look astonished by his strength as this bithc tears up a whole piece of wood with his bare hands.

Our sixth study: Class 1-C girl is amazed at Shinsou’s prowess, and while most of his classmates seemed huddled up, Shinsou might’ve been by himself. Maybe she was with him the whole time and at some point either must’ve told him, “hold up imma be back with the goddamn axe” or walked up to him by maybe noticing him without any tools from afar. For the millionth time, they look out for each other.

Chapter 182

Let’s focus on those fellas that look down on the Hero Dept. Chikuchi says, “At the end of the day, you won’t be pleasing anyone but yourselves.” They remain disdainful at first, but as the show progresses, they turn a new leaf and find themselves moved by the display of the Hero Dept.

Our seventh study: These kiddos are moved easily, implying a soft heart.

Chapter 183

Chikuchi and Agoyamato burst out an apology to Class 1-A, admitting that they wanted to critique their performance. Then immediately they leave.

Now, you see how blushy they look and how nervous they got when they shuffled away?

Our eighth study: This department has soft students that look out for each other and follow one another’s lead. It’s as if their hearts are in sync since both apologized and felt the same way of what they did. They can’t bring themselves to outright hate the hero department. After all, they wanted to be in that department themselves.

Still Chapter 183

This page features the attractions of this event, in the bottom left corner we see Class 1-C’s Haunted House exhibit. Shinsou hangs from the ceiling, successfully scaring students from Class 1-A.

Notice the plain white long sleeve shirt that has handprints? I like to think that the entire class contributed a handprint on that shirt- But on a serious note, Shinsou’s expression is blank. Perhaps his classmates had trust in him that he’d do the right faces. Little do they know that their brainwasher is just, poker-faced.

Our ninth study: Either the entire Class 1-C class was in agreement to ask Shinsou to be their guy for this attraction or Shinsou nominated himself for this role. No matter how it went, it means that this class all cooperated and discussed their display. This signifies strong teamwork and no one was scared about sharing their ideas.

And boom. I’m done analyzing every possible panel of them from the manga. Thank you for sticking with me this far. Now let’s head into the Light Novel. I’ll be using this source: https://shimikonde.tumblr.com/post/184554154892/ua-school-festival-light-novel-pg-52-55-for-my

Y’all should read it if you want more depth but in summary, Shinsou helps his class out with the haunted house attraction and then muses as he takes a small walk on his lonesome. He questions his worth and what would transpire once he moves to the Hero Department.

Okay, now I’m going to extract the notable details from this page. And from the segment of the light novel, I will make a small analysis from the quote.

Watching his classmates laugh, alone, Shinsou picked up the unneeded wood. “I’ll pick up some paint while I’m throwing this away.”

He walked away in silence as the voices of his classmates thanked him from behind.

Shinsou keeps tabs with his peers even if he isn’t around them. He lets them know what he’s going to do and his classmates are grateful when he helps them out with the trash stuff. This might’ve been something new for his classmates since they were quiet at first, but afterward, they thank him! And multiple of them!

It was only after he sent in his application to transfer that he began to grow accustomed to the atmosphere of his class. When should he tell them? He wondered if it would be too late if he waited until the transfer was set in stone.

Shinsou hasn’t told him what he’s been up to. He kept this a secret from his class, which I don’t think that makes him a bad person. He’s just having a hard time wondering when he should break it down to his classmates.

Would he really be able to make it into the Hero Course? He was afraid that once he took that first step, he’d find that he didn’t have any place to place his feet. Unable to land, he’d become like a cloud in the sky, pulled along by the wind, never to be seen again. It was because of this lack of confidence that he’d been unable to tell his classmates about his transfer.

Realizing he’d become pessimistic, Shinsou rubbed the back of his neck a bit and started walking again.

Shinsou is feeling insecure about himself. And it is these negative thoughts that impeded him from telling his classmates about his decision to transfer. He wants to be his best for his class, so he cuts his sad musings in order to get the job done for his classmates.

As Shinsou took in the sights around him, a thought suddenly occurred to him. This might be the first and last Cultural Festival that he does with Class C.

Now this one is really heartbreaking for me- He thinks of Class 1-C, the class that will turn out to be just his freshman classmates, he won’t grow up beside them no more, but with the Hero Department. This is the last activity that he will ever do with this class and he thinks hard on that.

Oh look we’re done sIKE- Horikoshi’s Ultra Analysis Book gives us a whole fucking meal about the Class 1-C: Little does Shinsou know, Class 1-C plans on throwing him a party to congratulate his transfer :’)

I don’t even have to explain it that is already a whole gem.

Phew, now that I’m done analyzing the manga and light novel and the analysis book, we can now move on to building fun headcanons from the studies we’ve made! Let me take us to the second section of this post:

Fun Headcanons

Do you remember how the girl from Class 1-C is the one that often speaks up between her and her buddy and how Chikuchi is always a space bit ahead of Agoyamato? And how she’s been like that with every panel she is with her buddy? It’s like the females from this class play mother hen. They’re queens.

Talking shit about the Hero Department is a conversation that brings them all together-

Class 1-C lowkey wishes to tell Shinsou to brainwash people to do funny stuff with his quirk, but are shy about asking him.

Since Shinsou has a tendency of being by himself and hear convos from afar, the Class 1-C students raise their voices in conversations intentionally so that they can let Shinsou hear them as a way to include Shinsou in talks but not force him in the group.

Whenever Shinsou speaks during class, his classmates make sure that everyone shuts up at that moment. like, “SHSHSHSHSH EVERYONE STFU SHINSOU IS GOING TO SAY SOMETHING-” It doesn’t bother Shinsou since this is their way of giving him respect and he finds it cute-

All of the ladies and the fellas unanimously agree that Shinsou is the cute guy from the class. Only they call themselves plain-looking so that’s why they got mad at Present Mic when he basically labeled them as “fillers”. They acknowledge that Shinsou has a cool appearance.

One of the Class 1-C students said, “Shinsou should participate in the Beauty Contest of the Cultural Festival-” and then the entire class went fucking quiet because they were nervous they were going to set Shinsou off, but then Shinsou shyly replies that rather he looks like something from a horror movie. And then his classmates got inspired by his words to come up with the Haunted House attraction and that’s how it came to be. No, I don’t take criticism.

I headcanon my Shinsou to know sign language so- Anyways, his classmates were impressed to learn that from Shinsou so they only asked him to teach them the alphabet, just a small sample of it. So that when they have multiple-choice quizzes, they lowkey cheat by helping each other out and do the sign language alphabet under their desks to the right answers. When the entire class has obtained the answer, they let each other know by doing this 👌 before they proceed to the next question.

They’re really open-minded! Have y’all seen Agoyamato’s pompadour? Chikuchi’s ponytails? Shinsou? They don’t give a damn how you look like.

[jay-zoetic]

Life doesn’t happen as fluidly as a memory. Rather it bounces back and forth in relativity. A moment in time linked to another. This is the start of me telling my story, as best I know how. As honestly and as transparently as I can muster so that maybe one day someone can read the words that follow and know, like I did from the many readings of others who were brave enough to share, that they too are not alone. There is always hope.

The Beginning of Knowing:

(A reflection of my slow awakening to my true-self)

Picture this for a moment, 13-year-old me, sitting in a recliner at my Aunt’s house watching “Boys Don’t Cry” for the first time.

The graphic content on the screen making my cheeks flush bright red, so much so I thought the heat would permeate across the room in my aunt’s direction. So naturally, I reached for a blanket as my only barrier to shield her from viewing my reaction to the screen.

-Two years prior my big brother, David whom I idolized was killed in a tragic accident that kick-started the beginning of my world turning away from any sense of normalcy. That kind of trauma as you could imagine, difficult at any age, was especially difficult for an eleven year old. I carried a great guilt for my brother’s death. I didn’t understand how two weeks prior he could leave a voicemail begging my father to come back home and telling him that he’d be a better son, a better big brother to me, and then never having the chance to see him again. 

There are moments with David that will never leave me. 

My brother was not the kind of kid you could brag about. He had his demons and we were always at odds. I felt invisible at his side, but we couldn’t get a-long well enough for him to stay at our home without my father fearing for my safety in his presence. He moved in with our father and my step-mother around the time I was seven. We had a trial run on weekends and holidays the year prior, but both being only children for most of our lives we didn’t much like to share. Our home was a small double-wide trailer that sat on 8 acres of land. Too small to house the two of everything that David and I were gifted to keep the peace. The two trampolines, basketball hoops, a dog pen for each of our dogs, mine, Lady and his, named Yellow.

I didn’t care much for the newly acquired chores of washing the dishes and folding the laundry while my brother took up helping our dad with the yard work, my old job prior to his arrival. I felt like he had taken my father from me and he felt as if I always had my father in his absence, naturally we fought for his love an interaction on equal fronts because my dad spent most of his days working three jobs to feed and provide for two children. 

One day, a short five years after my brother had lived with us, he ripped a sling blade from the palm of my hand. He couldn’t have known how sharp the blade was even in its rusted state, but as the blood trickled down my wrist, I watched my brother panic. It was too late, my father then reacted in a state of rage that I am not proud to admit ended the course of our sibling interaction under the same roof and that night he was asked to pack his belongings. 

It was incredibly quiet the year that my only brother, my terrorizor, my hardest lesson and first in loss, left. I felt half of a void in his absence, not the blood half, but the souls renching grasp of absence half and when I listened to that voicemail a part of me truly believed he had indeed changed. We could try again. We could be a whole family, again.

We went to visit him that weekend at the local skating rink where he, my brothe, practiced for the skate team. I’ll never forget those tight spandex shorts clinging to his thighs and my father calling him, ‘wolf boy” due to the hair state of his exposed legs protrouding from their grip. We spent hours playing Mortal Kombat in the arcade. Side by side exchanging quarters and the last few precious moments of peace and bonding time I’d ever have with him. Before leaving my father told my brother to, “hug your little sister, “she” loves you David and looks up to you.” We both grimaced and with all the hesitation that my brother could muster he finally wrapped me up into those dangling arms one last time. I can still feel the mutters the “ew” and “gross” leaving my lips. It didn’t help much with convincing our parents we’d be fine, but it was a promising start. 

In the parking lot I noticed my brother had grown at least three inches since I’d seen him last. I reached down for a moment to feel the scar on my palm and felt that it was still there, then back up at him to realize that their were no skates on his feet to propel him to the horizon, that was just all puberty taking its course. Time passing and quickly. In that same moment while he exchanged playful punches with my father, I saw him stand toe-to-toe with the man that he feared, just months prior. A glimpse of the man he was destined to become and peering from the backseat window of our family car I saw a slight mist in both of their eyes as they hugged goodbye for the last time. I can still remember my brother’s goofy grin and waver as we pulled out of the parking lot without him and then the moment he turned away, I imagine a little sad that he could not yet come home. That was the last time I ever saw my brother. It was the last time my father ever held his first-born son with his spirit and body intact.

At David’s wake, I was able to kiss his forehead for the first and last time. I didn’t understand why he was wearing make-up and foundation. His hair looked different too, but I didn’t grimace over this strange version of him. I just wanted him to open his eyes. I wanted him to tell me that this was just another one of his pranks. I wanted the crying around me to stop and for his laughter to fill the room instead. The rest his body was covered with as many letters, photos, and tokens from the people that knew and loved him well as his casket could hold. I remember that being my first experience seeing a dead body and how funny it sounded as I sounded that thought out in my head. I remember overhearing the story of that day differently from what I was told through the mutters and whispers of the hundreds of people in the room paying their respects and visiting with the family. I needed to know that it was real, so I reached into his casket one last time to feel his chest, carefully fixing his tie, and I felt it. The absence of structure on his left side. I imagine a vehicle could have done more damage at 55 mph, but aside from the con caved portion of his rib-cage, he looked perfect, but it was enough to know that the following day I had to say the hardest goodbye of my life. I could never again race my brother in go-carts and win. We could never again fight over the Sega genesis games or hockey card and comic book collections. No more stealing his socks because I hated the ones my parents bought for me. He was never coming home again and all that I had left of him was the one thing that sent him away, still itching from time to time on my right palm. What developed after were many changes in my life and at a rapid pace. It was my first real loss and significant heartbreak. My parents were grieving and going through the process of a long and nasty divorce, I was significantly depressed, hormonal & still very much trying to cope with the loss of my brother. When David died a part of me died with him. I lost the one person I identified with close to me and I didn’t cry about it or want to talk about it until years later. This year, I celebrate the man my brother would have become and I am slowly learning how hard it is to become, “that man” in a world that continues to remind me, I am one chromosome away from him & all of the other men I have looked up to in the process of chipping away at 32 years in the wrong body-

As I sat in that recliner, my soccerdelic t-shirt and green umbro soccer shorts I had begged for in the Belks Junior section (my grandmother’s favorite place to shop for me twice a year. Once prior to school starting and once for Summer) were hugging my rage and hormone filled body. I began feeling flushed as I watched a scene that I now identify as my, "awakening”.

The characters in the film felt so familiar to me; especially Brandon Tina, formerly known as Tina Brandon.

I was terrified with shame. When the surge of lightening coursed through my veins, I gripped the blanket tighter, hid my face, and pretended to sleep.

I had just enough light to continue watching through the tiny weaving of the blanket material. My synapses firing all at once, my heart racing, feeling uncomfortable and confused as to why I never knew these things ever existed. Bewildered by the confrontation now settling weight upon my conscience. Questioning how much sin was within me and how much sin had been inside of me, unwillingly.

Then it happened. The Big Bang effect that would ripple through my life as a warning and another “awakening” as Brandon Teena is pulled from the backseat of a vehicle, bound, and then violated in the most horrific way imaginable. In that moment, I felt dead inside. The life I had experienced in my short 13 years had already been unkind and I was learning the difference between normal and abnormal from a TV screen and it looked and sounded a lot like Brandon Teena’s experience.

I felt my chest tighten, my breathing heavy, and my eyes begin to flood with so much hurt and confusion that I was sure my Aunt could feel it from across the room. I wept quietly for the first time since my brother’s death. I wept for Brandon and I cried for what I though then to be -the bleak existence of my future.

What I learned was something that would haunt me for years to come and I felt something that I couldn’t share with anyone. Horrible things. I felt completely and totally alone in it.

I learned that those things that were called “love” could look a lot like someone you know and that rape doesn’t just happen in dark deserted parking lots, it doesn’t just happen to the pretty girls, or the ones who were out too late, it could even happen without someone identifying as a girl, it could happen out of hate for who you are and for who you are not. I learned that I was not alone in my experience, but I also learned that I was not “normal” and to vocalize any of this would surely be my death sentence. I’d witnessed my parents grieve once and in that moment I chose silence, I chose to burden myself with the responsibility of being the constant to keep them from suffering more and that would mean never speaking of these things to keep me alive and should I ever be brave enough to change; don’t.

Fast Forward 2 years>>>

I was a sophomore in high school, a new one since moving in with my father. A small victory came at the age 15 years old when I decided to go by “Jessy” instead of Jessica-Renee. Like most teens, I used my creativity in high school to set myself apart as an individual. I was incredibly naive, but it was the first time I ever felt like I had a voice or a choice in my life to be or identify with that quieted version of myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my name. It was beautiful, but it did not fit me. I would reply to my given name, but out of habit. I loved being named after my dad’s sister, Renee. She was strong, beautiful, and everything I wanted to be growing up. She made life cultured for me when I didn’t have the option to know anything other than the sheltered experiences of my home-life. She understood hustle and hard work and she saw the challenges I was put up against, but never made me feel like I was smaller than them. She pushed me to be better.

The world had already taught me a harsh lesson in what being a woman meant. I had to harness a different kind of strength & beauty to achieve that, but I never could relate to them. I felt as if I were chasing a ghost. A version of someone who didn’t exist within me. I felt like a liar and a cheat, but I became so good at switching the mask.

Everything about being around girls/women felt foreign and I tried to mimic those strong women in my life because I at least knew that meant safety. But in the dark moments when the burden of surviving overwhelmed me I turned to coping in unhealthy ways. I created a cycle of chaos in my relationships with others and damaged my body to punish myself for all of the things that I couldn’t control. I could control that. I honestly felt as though I deserved it. So I didn’t reach for more. I just kind of stagnated until the next thing came along.

In the mean-time I’d fantasize about what my life would be like once I graduated. I’d write lists of what my male name would be, hidden under the title of, “baby boy names” for when I was married to, “said guy” and have the ideal life that my parents would have wanted for me.

I’d think about how I want to sound as strong as my Brother, David or my Father, Brian. Could I convince others to call me something different one day? Would there ever be a moment in my life I could “figure out” what this meant for me?

There are moments that I’m reminded of the sound of my Nana, Grandma, and aunt’s voices calling out for me. The deliberate nature of their voices trailing out from a room separate from me in my life. The women that sheltered me. The women that tried so hard to teach me my place in the world. I felt so much guilt for my part in their inability to contain the fire that burned within me. They often let me figure it out on my own after many attempts at, “getting through” my stubborn ways. Those moments seem so special now in my transition. I’ve tucked them into a safe corner in my mind because truthfully, I will always cherrish the way my name would sound bellowing from their bellies and echoing through their respective homes. Each time felt like love vibrating through the walls and down the hallways I’d learn to walk, first from a crawl, then to a run, and eventually wearing those foreign stilts that my feet felt cramped in. The first blisters on my heels the night of prom when I double-stacked bandaids and smiled at the flashes to match theirs on the other side of the lens. Inside I was clawing at the seams of my costume. The cost of being a woman was a price that weighed too heavy, but there was always a comfort in their firm southern drawl. It deafened the voice that told me I couldn’t be loved, but it also came with a price.

-JESS-KUH RENEE!

-You go GIRL!

These are the moments I’ll keep. I’m learning that I don’t have to wish them away.

You see, like many, I grew up in a tough environment for any child, let alone a growing young lady. The men in my life also made me tough. They knew and saw my curiosity/love of adventure. It was always confusing when the women in my life tried to shelter me from all of that. Collectively they instilled in me a complex & resiliency. It was a tough balance.

There were fights on Sunday about the donning of dresses. There were arguments made about the use/sharing of toys between my brother and I prior to his passing. My barbies were gifted to the back yard then met by the blades of my father’s riding lawn mower.

I buried all of my secrets in the ground of that 8 acres I grew up on in the country on notebook paper. I understood soon enough that writing them down felt more important than having anyone to tell them to.

I prayed beneath cotton candy colored skies at sunsets as my parents yelled so loudly the neighbor’s would take notice and step outside to see me, that quirky kid sitting on a partially deflated basketball holding a pen and paper in my lap.

I prayed that I’d wake up in another world and in the right body, with the perfect family. I prayed for my parents to find peace before my own.

When my breast started to grow, I remember the embarrassment of finding and wearing my first cotton training bra. My grandmother and step-mother took me shopping; at Belks, of course. They were thrilled about this “achievement” of simply waking up to new growth. I was mortified. It was more garment to fight with at the start of my daily routine. Another reason to hate getting dressed in the mornings. I envied my brother who’d walk around the house with a bare chest. His ego a mile wide.

I’d hide in the bathroom trying to figure out why my skin felt like sandpaper against my under garments. My body hair grew from places that he showed so carelessly. I felt ashamed. For wanting it to grow, but also embarrassed at school in gym because other girls my age were already shaving their armpits and apparently that was just another right of passage in womanhood. Once my brother’s girlfriend told me that I should just “shave it off.” I asked my parents if this were possible, but they firmly instructed me to never shave above my knees and to only use an electric razor in shaving below my knees. I found this strange. My brother, who knew this offered to shave my legs for me. I also found this strange, but I agreed and halfway through the process I chickened out. I realized later, with my one shaved calf that this was a set-up. It dawned on me when riding in my father’s truck later that day when he looked down at me trying to cover my left leg and asked why only one leg had hair on it?!

I stammered to explained to him that David shaved it for me. My father’s face looked confused by the admission. He knew David would have never tried to touch me with a razor out of pure discourse for wanting to be near me, let alone without first; trying to harm me with it. Automatically, it sounded like a farce. His face reddened, then the yelling came, where he forbids me to ever shave again.

When I returned to school the in the following weeks, I was relentlessly teased for my hairy legs by my peers. Both boys and girls. I felt trapped in my body by perceptions again and I refused to wear shorts for the fear of being teased again.

I was 15 the year I caved to the societal pressures for what being a woman meant. Remember that night of my first prom? My parents had this glow about them when they saw me. I had by then, grew my hair out, shaved my legs, and started wearing makeup. I felt like a fraud, but the teasing slowed and I began to make friends.

For Amy:

I spent the first few weeks at my new school sophomore year trying to re-establish myself in a new setting. I felt the warmth of possibility. The first attempt came the first day of classes and I was excited to try out my, “new name.”

First period, History class and a name roll-call later I found myself penning down the spelling variations of Jessy, Jessi, Jesse, Jeci over the blue lined notebook paper in front of me. Trying to shield it from others as the teacher, a very round bellied man, grasped his belt and began to ask for our preferred names following the announcing of our “birth-names”. I had a choice here! Finally, I settled on Jessy. So, when I heard the name Jessica, my ears perked and before I could get that final choice uttered, he said their last name…Biggs. The crushing moment that followed was her introduction to her preferred name and spelling…”JESSY”. I didn’t have time to recover before my name was called Immediately following hers. I uttered out a simple, “here”. To my new friends I introduced myself with my preferred name. I didn’t make a fuss about the spelling. I did however have to meet this Jessy.

Jessy walked the halls that day with a similar looking girl, with similar looking hair. The only real difference between the two was a sleeve of tattoos that covered the other girl down to her hands. I knew they were both upper class-men. I’d heard it from Jessy who introduced herself as a junior and later that day I’d catch a brief moment of loving affection shown between her and the girl with similar looking hair while sitting on a bench outside of the lunchroom. I didn’t feel like sitting alone among so many people whose grown-up together so, I casually walked to the end of the hall adjacent to where they sat. I noticed that the tattooed girl, didn’t very much resemble a girl to me at all. This peaked my interest further, but I was too shy to introduce myself and also aware that there was a reason they sat outside of the lunchroom. It was safety.

4th period, Algebra I noticed the girl with similar hair sitting behind me. I needed an excuse to talk to her and learn her name. She felt familiar. She also felt like knowing her would be terrifying for me. I faked reaching for a pencil and then turned empty handed to ask her if I could have one from her. I felt the entire room shift as I spoke. The other students seemed completely surprised that I, long curly headed new-girl would even speak to her. Then, A response, “you can BORROW one.” I laughed nervously and said, “of course, my name is Jessy, in case you need to hunt me down for it later.” She seemed perplexed, but responded, “I’m Amy, thanks.” I couldn’t leave well enough alone and asked to see her tattooed hands and made some lame remark like, “cool tats, that must have hurt.”

I’d get to know Jessy and Amy more over time that year. They introduced me to Nikki and later Nikki would introduce me to Jaimie…who became my very best friend. Another girl, who didn’t look very much like a girl that I crushed on from afar until we met. I would watch and listened to Jaimie and Amy carefully. Constantly in awe of their presence and their bravery to dress in the ways that I allow longed to. But when the moments that occurred from others throwing shame or hatred their way, I cowered. We hung out after school, but in the halls, I started to avoid them to protect my new image from being tarnished along with theirs for standing with them.

Eventually, I couldn’t run from it and started to embrace our friendship more. I would come to learn that Amy identified as transgender. It became my second “awakening” and when she graduated that year, I was sad to know I no longer had her stories or comfort around whenever I needed them. He never knew my internal struggle or how much I relied on her strength to feed mine because four years later when I was ready to reveal that long-held secret, Amy and his girlfriend were killed by a drunken driver while walking home from dinner.

Years 16-17: Independence.

Bouncing between two homes is a terrible experience when your parents carry different parenting styles, but it’s much easier when you finally get your first set of wheels.

I had been working since I was old enough to get my work permit, but the back and forth nature of things made it tough to acquire my learners permit for driving. I finished the course at my old high school, but my parents didn’t have the money to invest in car insurance and a vehicle safe enough to put me in.

My grandmother and grandfather saw a need and stepped in. They did most of the shuttling me around and eventually, they took me in for my driver’s test to achieve that limited learner’s permit prior to getting my license.

May 5th, 2003

I had the permit for almost a week. I was only allowed to drive with a licensed driver over the age of 25. After school one day my grandmother and aunt picked me up in my aunt’s candy-apple red Jeep Cherokee. At the time it was my dream vehicle. I had hopes that she’d retire it to me once I got my full license. I begged them to let me drive the last few miles home from a nearby Burger King because I was hungry and wanted to experience my first time driving unassisted. I was met with hesitation, but eventually found myself behind the wheel grinning from ear to ear while they gripped the, “oh shit! handles” and white knuckles it until we reached my grandmother’s driveway.

I hopped out of the Jeep beaming. I was proud of myself and couldn’t wait to tell my grandfather the good news! He always invested in my successes. Although he was a timid man, he was packed full of charm. His tumbling booms of laughter and joy were all I wanted to hear coming through her door. Usually, he’d greet me with…” where’s my girl?! Come here so I can get a bite of those cheeks!” Then he’s followed with a hug so tight and so warm it could melt the coldest of hearts, mine included.

However, his carefully chosen dialogue and calming nature where not what greeted us as I stormed through the sun-room door and ran towards his chair in the den…empty.

My grandmother’s voice belted from the kitchen, “GUY! GET UP!” My stomach turned and I ran to the kitchen. The fear in her voice was as thick as the swallow of air I fought hard to take into my lungs and release. His feet protruded from the side of the kitchen table. One shoe half on, the other hugging the wall with a tiny trail of his blood dried to the wallpaper. A plate of food still on the table half eaten. That moment felt like an eternity. My brain trying to understand what and how this had happened. A million questions took the backseat as I jumped into action. First trying to wake him. His face pale and upon reaching for his face I felt the cool moisture of his sweat roll down my wrist. Instinctively I reached into his mouth and removed the partial bits left inside blocking his airway. My grandmother in shock started lifting his legs to get him to, “wake up.” Me yelling at her not to move him and then yelling for my aunt to call an ambulance. Moments later he awoke. Only able to try and move his right arm and speak in distorted language. Something in me said, “this is a stroke” When the paramedics arrived, they loaded him into what I had defined as a coffin since my brother’s last trip in that metal box of doom. I didn’t know if I’d ever get those cheek bites again and I felt a terrible guilt for insisting I drove home, making us arrive home later than usual, to find him like that.

He spent the night in Urgent Care and I spent the night trying to avoid the inevitable. Life as I knew it always came in pairs of heartache. The fear of losing g my grandfather was first, the second, losing my sense of peace and safety once I returned home. The second happened that night, for the first time in the one place I called home, but not the “first time”. My safe place. just a few feet away from the kitchen, just a few feet away from my grandfather’s recliner the only man in my life big enough or worthy enough to fill it with love and compassion. This time was different. I put up a fight, tried my damnedest to avoid what I knew could happen, naive enough to think that maybe, some compassion would be bestowed upon me due to the circumstances of what I had been through earlier in my day, but it wasn’t enough to save me from the rest of the attack on body. It wasn’t enough to save me from him.

I missed school the next day, I would have rather gone. In fact, I begged my parents. Anything to keep me away from seeing HIS face, my father’s face when I returned to his house later that afternoon when, HIM, aka “asshole” dropped me off and shook my father’s hand. Anything to keep me pre-occupied from the only other fear in my life at that moment. Losing my grandfather.

I sat on the floor talking to my first girlfriend on the phone. I remember when the line cut in that another call was coming through. I answered to find my grandmother’s voice. A little light shining through that dark time. It was good news. My grandfather had a stroke, but they anticipated another surgery to put in a feeding tube and all should be well. I hung up with relief. In a matter of hours, another call came. This time my step-mother’s voice. This time, my grandfather didn’t make it through the surgery. His body went into shock after the feeding tube was placed. He was gone and I was shattered.

The months that followed were bleak. My mind kind of tapped out on knowing what I needed to feel better. I started caving to peer pressure more and more. I fell away from my principles and morals. I lied to my family, a lot. Mostly because I needed to be away, at any expense. For safety. For healing.

The highlight finally came the day that my grandmother announced she’d help me get my first vehicle. I was just days shy of my 17th birthday. I was so relieved that she’d agreed to help that I nearly ignored “asshole” picking me up from her house later that evening following family supper in my new car. Donning that devilish smile as he existed the car, he questioned,

“Well? What are you waiting for? it’s not going to drive itself?”

I reluctantly climbed into the driver seat. My grandmother motioned for my to, “start her up!” And I obeyed. As we left the driveway the mixture of emotions in my body conflicted with all that I should have been feeling In that moment. The thought of having any sort independence killed with one statement, “there are rules…as you could imagine. You break them and there will be consequences and if you try anything funny, you will lose, every time.” I knew it wasn’t about the car. It wasn’t about my competence in driving or safety on the road. This was a challenge to losing access to me. In that moment my eyes fixated on the tree line, my head went back to that prison, and the only thing keeping my tires between the yellow and white lines was the voice inside of me yelling back, “NOT YET!”

18: The beginning of the end.

Senior year was a tremendous year of growth. I had friends, many of them identified like me. They came from troubled homes, struggled with their sexuality, fitting into a mold placed upon them while living in a southern small town. We did naturally, what most teens do…we rebelled. There were many nights I’d stay out late partying at friends’ houses. I went to swim practices, school, work, then home to do it all over again. I fell away from things that kept me surrounded by my family only because I tried to avoid, “Him”.

I signed my paper for the military and in my waiting to leave that Summer, I practiced my freedom

more than ever. My friends and I started watching a show called, “The L Word.” It felt like the world was turning in my favor and I could start talking about my attraction to women more. So that outing came quicker than expected by a note one of my other step-mom’s found at my dad’s house, only second to him learning from a girl at school that I was, “Bi-sexual.” To this day I’m not quite sure what provoked her to approach my father with that news, but it happened and I was angry for several reasons. The first being that I did NOT identify as Bi-sexual. The second and major reason, I was joining the military and at that time, there was a strict, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy in place that could have jeopardized my career and true-freedom before it ever happened for me.

That didn’t stop my exploration of finding myself, but I was more careful in my approaches. A few weeks prior to leaving for the military I spent a lot of time with my friends. My father asked me to leave the house upon learning I liked women and I was too ashamed to tell my grandmother. On weekends I would stay with her and during the week I’d crash on my friends couches.

I spent a lot of time with Jaimie and Amy that Summer. Amy started hormone therapy and I was blown away at the changes to her voice. I would try on Jaimie’s clothing and too poor or either too scared to buy my own men’s clothing I’d opt to wear hers. That is until my first Walmart purchase at 1am after a work shift when Jaimie, Karla, and I adventure through the men’s section to find what was my very first men’s outfit. It consisted of a striped polo, cargo khaki colored shorts, and finally a sports bra and boxer briefs!

Uncle Sam: (Death of the Femme)

Basic training could have gone smoother had I not opted to wear those new boxers the first night.

They lined us up against the wall lockers and screamed for all articles of clothing to come off. I, like many others stripped down to just my sports bra and boxers. Exposed in more than one way I instantly regretted my choice of underwear. That is until the screaming symphony of TIs shocked me out of that thought and back into action and I began pulling the remaining articles of clothing from my body as fast as I could. Completely naked and bare to strangers we filed into a single line. My body, the last to join the other-foreign bodies, who all seemed to remember the most important part. Pack shower shoes. I ruffled through my bag desperately trying to find a solution. I imagine the comedic relief to the others as I was made to wear the only pair of sneakers/shoes I had with me into the rotation of 8 scorching hot shower heads. If I didn’t want to stand out, I surely had a way of making it happen. I wore those squishy tennis shoes everywhere I went for the remainder of the week until we were allowed to visit the commentary. Which only had the size up from what I needed, but it was better than the tennis shoes and showers became a little more bearable.

I envied my brother flight’s experience. They didn’t have to live with 49 other women all on their periods, (which I started for the second time the second week of basic because, well biology.) They didn’t have to get fitted for the ankle length dress blues skirt or hear screaming at one another over the use of someone’s hair gel, or for someone’s hair falling out of their mildewing hair bun roll while doing push-ups and earning a demerit for the entire flight for it. I’m sure they had their own struggles, but I welcomed them more than my own.

Upon graduation I ended up getting stationed at Travis AFB in California. I spent many nights in my dorm room watching movies and listening to music until I met others to spend time with that I could relate to. I met friends, women who also liked women, but I didn’t feel like I fit with them either. It was a start. In my new sense of freedom, I purchased more men’s clothing. I obtained more guy friends and started living my life as best a I could to avoid the inner turmoil that still existed within me.

One night at the base gas station I came across a film about a trans woman’s experience in life. I felt sick. I had a hatred brewing against anything that felt too close for comfort or served as a reminder that I was trapped in a world that could never allow me; serving my country for freedoms I could not partake in for fear of losing everything I’d worked so hard for. To be labeled unfit or abnormal. Not only in my military career where I’d landed on my false identity as a “butch lesbian” because it was somehow safer than my own understanding of gender identity norms at the time, but also in my personal relationships with those I’d share intimacy.

Did you know that within the Queer Community there are many definitions to what it means to be a lesbian, gay man, etc? Did you also know that there exists a bias toward the Transgender community?  A lot of us experience this bias as a betrayal...I certainly did and sometimes, still do encounter it.

Vocabulary and Syntax are funny things, especially when they are weaponized just as you start to feel safe in a community that is supposed to embrace and celebrate differences. Never-the-less, I pushed forward. I found comfort in things that were not comfortable after their effects wore off.

My escapes into bars and nightclubs were riddled with hypocrisy and fear. Choosing to go out with friends, which friends were safe to take along or how I’d explain myself should I happen to be in one of those taboo places by a fellow airman or worse, “OSI” Office of Special Investigation. My sole task was blending in, but I wanted nothing more than to scream out

-I don’t belong here!?

-I don’t feel safe here?!

2008(May the truth set you on fire before they burn you down)

The orders came that I would deploy at a very inconvenient moment in my career/personal a struggle. I began coming to terms with the fact that my absence could be a saving grace but before I left I had this urgent need to tell my family everything I’d been sorting through in therapy relating to my past trauma. With some family members I expected anger, but when that didn’t happen I felt reassured that if they couldn't handle the worst kind of ugly by being supportive, how would they ever support the other secrets I’d locked away that were killing me? It was rough. The time I spent deployed was the most awakening.

The quiet was loud in my head yet; I found comfort in knowing that the things that had hurt me most were thousands of miles away. I felt hope in knowing that if I were not to make it home at least my story didn’t die with me. Only, not a full comfort because I was still locking the rest within the barrel of my chest. I felt relief in knowing that coming home any other way would be disgraceful and truly felt as though I had purpose.

Some days I’d wish for peace in the form

The crisis I was going through with my gender identity paled in comparison with the haunting nature of my past. Suddenly, all of those bad and dark things started affecting me more than they had ever before because my knowledge of their abnormalities and exposure to other cultures and customs made me realize that I finally had to start talking about them to get through them and over them, to heal. I knew that I had to fix those things first and felt like maybe in fixing them, I too, could make the male parts of my brain and the longing for them go away. 

To be continued…

In case you wanted to know the reasoning behind my choice or are interested: Follow along…

Jayce (Hebrew, same as my prior name) “healer” or “the Lord is salvation”. Includes my favorite aspects of my prior name.

Bodie ( Bodie is a former gold-mining town and State Historic Park in California’s Bodie Hills, near the Nevada border.)

The boy's name Bodie \b(o)-die\ is a variant of Boden (Scandinavian, Old French), and the meaning of Bodie is "shelter; one who brings news". Same as my grandmother’s name Evangeline.

"Awakened" or "Enlightenment" The Buddhist concept of Bodhi is spiritual awakening and freedom from the cycle of life. Bodhi is also the name of the sacred ficus tree (ficus religiosa) under which Lord Buddha sat and obtained his enlightenment.

[ambermurdock]

Perfect Little Girls

Had an idea for a Grown Up PPG fic. It got long, so I added in a readmore!

The girls retire from fighting crime after high school. Times have changed, and a lot of their enemies have retired, died, or are serving their time in prison. They’re ready to have their own lives. Professor Utonium supports and is proud of them.

Buttercup decides to backpack across the country. Being able to fly is super helpful for this, and she can visit her sisters whenever. Finds herself doing bouncer work, and keeping an eye out for women in danger to protect. Spent some time working at a lesbian bar, where she felt at home. She misses crime fighting the most, but not more than she misses her goody goody sisters.

Bubbles became an independent content creator, as something like a Youtuber. Lots of Story Time videos, makeup tutorials, whatever she feels like sharing. Sells comic/coloring books based on her adventures with her sisters. She thrives in the community. She makes enough to be more than comfortable, but gives a lot of her money back. She prefers to use her influence to save the day, if possible.

Blossom spends her 20s investigating several careers, decides she’s wasted on office work, lacked the capacity for stupid for running a store, and she has too much heart for politics. Not that she ever technically failed at any of it. She was good at it all but none of it was right. After spending some time with her dad in the lab, helping him with his research into Chemical X, she realized it felt... right. Like coming home, or slipping into your favorite shoes. She decided to become a scientist like her Very proud and Touched dad, and after her schooling becomes known as Dr. Blossom Utonium.

She moves back home, both to take care of her aging father and be closer to her research. He insists he’s fine but she loves him and she worries. They have a good time working together, and make some breakthroughs that required Blossoms methods and analytical mind (and sometimes tests on Buttercup.)

Over time, they begin to notice the world becoming more like their youth. Dangerous. People who would call themselves villains are working their way into notoriety. The girls childhood rival Princess is running for Mayor (a position long held by Ms. Bellum after their good friend retired) and her methods are ruthless. It’s looking like playing fair isn’t enough to ‘Re-Elect Bellum’, as the signs staked in yards all over town say. She has some ideas for prison reform that don’t benefit the right people. Blossom is worried.

She calls a family meeting. Buttercup is eager to get back into the game, though Bubbles is hesitant. She has a life now, and things at stake. Blossom assures them that wasn’t her intention for Them to return to heroism, but instead to create 3 new little girls for a changing world. Research in chemical X has advanced enough that she thinks they could even have fingers, and maybe smaller eyes.

The Professor and Bubbles are unsure. The work is dangerous, and this kind of thing hasn’t been tested intentionally. Bubbles would want these little girls to have a chance to be little girls. Buttercup is on board immediately, offering herself as their trainer. Blossom is absolutely positive that it will work. Their work life balance will be better than theirs was, knowing what they know now. They’ll have tech assistance as well. They all eventually agree that they would try it, but if it works and the girls Don’t Want to do it, they won’t be forced.

It takes some time. Hundreds of failed experiments that fortunately do not turn grotesque, calls to the fire department, and sleepless nights later, they Know they’re going to succeed. Buttercup moves back to town permanently and opens her own bar, with financial assistance from Bubbles and Mayor Bellum. Bubbles moves into a house in the neighborhood to be closer to the kids. And Blossom has been gathering ingredients.

Sugar, Spice, and everything nice are not all little girls are made of. They need compassion, creativity, and cunning. They need to be kind empathetic and open minded. They need more than powers to save the world, they need a drive. They have to care about other people.

Each of the girls contribute something of their own. Blossom donates the first chapter book she ever finished. She loved it, wore the covers down with her hands as she read it over and over through the years. The girls to have curiosity and intrigue in things around them, as well as imagination.

Bubbles makes the hard decision to contribute Octi, her favorite stuffed animal. He was a fuzzy purple octopus with a top hat when he was still new. Now he was grayed and flat and missing parts of his face. The girls need love, she figured, and Octi was as loved as he could get.

It took Buttercup a little bit to decide what to add. She didn’t keep a lot of relics from her youth, and she worried her own personality would be too volatile. She gave up the first leather jacket she bought for herself when she left townsville. Once shiny and black, it was now dull and well broken in. It also had been converted into a vest, and decorated with patches and buttons. It was her armor for her years abroad, a second skin. She never went a day without it. The girls need to be able to protect others, but also themselves.

The day comes, and it couldn’t be a better time. Mayor Bellum is again Ms. Bellum, as Princess won the election. It’s hard to say how, most of the citizens of Townsville had declared their intentions to Re-Elect Bellum. It was safe to assume there was money involved. A new villain, claiming to be the apprentice to Mojo Jojo, has begun causing trouble. Several older villains that are ‘mysteriously’ being released from prison and are getting jobs as Mayor Princess’s personal security and enforcers. They need this to work more now than ever.

This time the measurements are careful. Each of the girls treasured belongings are added, along with portions of the expected sugar, spice, and everything nice. Blossom offers for the Professor to do the honors of adding the new reformulated Chemical X, but instead he poured it for them into 3 portions to add together. With cautious excitement, they did, and before they could cover their eyes there was a blinding FLASH of light! (This, of course, is why you wear proper lab equipment.)

After their eyes recovered, and the Professor returned to a standing position, they saw the fruits of their labor, asleep in the individual pods designed for them to be born into. They looked more... traditionally human than the girls did, and a couple years older. Closer to 10 than 5. Eyes are large, but not as off putting, 8 individual fingers and toes each, a nose on each of them. Upon careful inspection, one had yellow eyes, with red hair like Blossoms, but curlier. One had orange eyes with Bubbles blonde hair, though shorter and messier. And the last had red eyes with Buttercups dark black hair, styled blunt and long. They were named Daisy, Daffodil, and Dahlia respectively.

After they gained consciousness and were given their own clothes, dresses similar to the ones the girls once wore when they were young, it was clear that the experiment had been a success. Professor Utonium was thrilled to have children in the house again. He loved his grown up girls, but something about having 3 little trouble makers jumping on the bed and asking for ‘One More Bedtime Story’ warmed his aging bones. 

None of the three of them could have children traditionally, the way they were made, and for the most part they had decided that was for the best. There were a lot of kids out there that could be adopted if they wanted families. Blossom, for one, wasn’t sure if she even wanted them. But something changed in those moments when she saw them come to life. She would do anything for them, and she knew her sisters would do the same.

Buttercup, the cool aunt, became their trainer. She taught them how to kick ass, take names, and be confident in who they are. Bubbles was the fun aunt, who as well as taking them to the mall and painting their nails (weren’t they so lucky to have them, and so long!) taught them about inequality and humanitarianism. And Blossom was mom, doing everything in between. Shepherding them to school and back between lab work, making sure they were fed and clothed.

In return the girls saved Townsville, again and again. They took to it naturally. And more than fighting monsters, they fought injustice. They protected their classmates from bullies and strangers from unjust arrests. Perhaps to the older crowd who thought crime fighters should stick to villains and monsters, they wouldn’t be as popular as the crowd pleasing original trio. But to the young folks, to the kids who grew up with Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup, who are raising their own kids with theirs, they couldn’t be more thrilled for the future.

Nothing was more exciting for them than getting that Google alert on their phones whenever a news site would announce in a title; “The Day was Saved, Thanks to the Powerpuff Girls”