#and we reached the conclusion that it's part of her being a pushover like-- she doesn't want to be too hard on them and give them many rule

[caitlynmeow]

Alcina gets no blood because she's a noblewoman with class and she always wipes her mouth clean afterward but her daughters are messy and they just don't care (and she lets them be)

[25yearsofcrying]

Julie and The Phantoms

Summary: Trying my own hand at JATP novelization, using the show rather than the novel or the scripts. I’m sure it’s been done before but there’s never enough Julie and the Phantoms, right? If nothing else, I have an excuse to rewatch every single scene of the show all over again.

CHAPTER 4: clocks move forward

Luke

We haven’t figured out our predicament by the time the girl comes back. She is pretty, but mostly she is fierce. She holds a cross in front of her as if she was on a hunt for vampires as she says: “Are you still here… whatever you are?”

I look at the guys. We have figured one thing so far: we’re ghosts and ghost travel is easy. We can teleport, sort of, poof from one point in space to another in an instance. No more laws of physics for us.

“I know I saw something. I’m not crazy!” She sounds certain about it, not like she is trying to persuade herself.

“Well, we’re all a little crazy,” I say as we poof into the doorway right behind her.

She spins around and holds the cross as far as her arm will reach… And she screams again. Loud. She has a powerful set of lungs if her screaming is anything to go by. Even as ghosts, we have to cover our ears.

“Oh my God!” yells Alex. “Please stop screaming.”

Dogs are howling somewhere in the neighborhood. The girl calms down enough to speak. But when she does, it’s a string of nonsense.

“Who are you? And what are you doing in my Mom’s studio?”

“Your Mom’s studio?” I repeat, disbelieving. I’m not someone you can fool easily, I’ve never been. And I know this space like I know the back of my hand. I’ve spent a lot of time here in the past few months. It’s home. “This is our studio. Trust me.” I walk past her into the small building, determined to prove my point. I’m clearly correct and won’t accept otherwise. “My…” Alright, so some things have changed since yesterday. I bounce on top of the grand piano to examine the space from there. “The grand piano is new…” I look around. “And…” Why does everything look so off? I’m not the most organized person, but I know what my band’s studio looks like. “And… and… My couch!” I yell at the familiar sight and bounce over to the piece of furniture and flop down onto it. I’ve missed it. Lying on it gives me new perspective of the studio. I feel unnerved. “That is definitely not my six-string,” I say uncertainly, pointing to the instrument near my head.

Disturbed, I get up, gesturing for the girl to give me a moment. “Can you give me just one second? Just… give me a second. Thank you.”

I grab Alex and Reggie by their shoulders and pull them aside. “Guys, what’s going on?” I ask, frantic. I haven’t felt this bad since I realized we were dead and wouldn’t get to play the Orpheum. “How did she get her stuff in here so fast?”

“Maybe…” Reggie is the first one to come up with a logical conclusion. He sounds a little worried when he says: “Maybe she’s a witch. There’s chairs floating on the ceiling.” He points up to the proof.

Instantly, Alex protests: “There’s no such thing as witches.”

“You sure? I used to think there was no such thing as ghosts.”

I have to take Reggie’s side on this one and I nod. “Ok, so we’re going with witch?”

Although Alex is ready to agree that Reggie has a point with the ghosts, he doesn’t seem persuaded. “No, we are not going with a witch,” he says firmly. People think that because Alex is a little anxious, he doesn’t speak up, but Alex is no pushover and he proves it now as he takes control of the situation. “She is not a witch. She’s just scared. Ok, let someone with a softer touch handle this.”

Then he proves he has a little too much confidence in his softness as he turns to the girl. “What are you in our studio?” he asks her, enunciating each word.

It doesn’t work and instead of answering, the maybe-witch shoves her cross towards Alex. And through him. Her hand and the cross both go through his chest. He flinches and she recoils.

“Oh my ghost, how did you do that?!” she yells.

“Okay, you don’t get it…” Alex turns to us, half annoyed, half helpless. “Clearly, she doesn’t get it.” Back to the girl, frustration evident in his voice and gestures both, he says: “We’re ghosts. We’re just three ghosts and we’re really happy to be home. So thank you for the flowers, they really brighten up the room.”

Sensing that his explanation might need expanding as well as an opportunity to introduce ourselves properly, I add: “We’re in a bang call Sunset Curve.” And without missing a beat, Reggie says: “Tell your friends!”

“Last night was supposed to be a really big night for us,” I continue, willing the girl to understand. “It was gonna change our lives.”

Alex gives me a look. “I’m pretty sure it did.”

“This is freaking me out,” the girl says honestly. She does look freaked out, I can’t deny that. She takes something out of her pocket, a thing the size of a calculator.

“What’s that?” I asked, trying to see the device in her hand. “What are you doing?” It doesn’t look like another weapon like the cross.

“It’s my phone,” she answers before snapping at herself instantly. “No! Stop talking to them. They aren’t real. There’s no such thing as cute ghosts.”

Despite our situation, those words please us. “Oh, think we’re cute?” Reggie asks and seems to grow about an inch with the words. The girl gives him a look and turns her attention back to the phone. I’ve never seen a phone quite so small.

Alex asks, in his anxious-but-trying-to-sound-friendly voice: “Who you calling?”

“I’m Googling Sunset Swerve.”

“Sunset Curve,” we correct unisono. Reggie even adds a little curve drawn in the air with his finger to tell her what we mean. Distracted by the need to give her the proper information, I barely register that I’m not sure what she’s just said. Must be some local slang.

She frowns at her phone. “Oh, there is a Sunset Curve. You did die.” Before I can tell her that we told her so, she continues. “But not last night. After we died, all we did was go to that dark room where Alex cried.”

“I don’t think---” Alex’s voice goes an octave higher. “I think we were all pretty upset.”

What she’s said makes no sense. “B--- but that was just for like an hour.” I glance around at the studio that looks so familiar and not.  “We just showed up here.”

She sighs. “Look. I’m just telling you what my phone says. See?” Turning the device towards us, she shows us what looks like an article accompanied by a picture of our band. “You died in 1995, when you were 17. It’s now 2020.”

Reggie gives her a curious look, while I’m still processing. “So, this is the future?”

“Wait,” Alex says. “So… So it has been 25 years. I have been crying for 25 years? How is that possible?” He sounds on the road to hysteria.

“Well, you’re a very emotional person,” Reggie points out, not unreasonably.

“I’m not!” Alex snaps, so much emphasis on not he can be barely heard by the human ear at this point.

Just then, a kid marches into the studio. He is all confidence for his tiny size. “Thought you were afraid to come out here,” he says, addressing the girl and not sparring any of us a glance. “You talking to your ghost friend? How does he look? Is he hideous.”

Alex elbows Reggie, clearly ready to pay him back for Reggie’s earlier observation. “He can see you.”

“No, he can’t,” the girl says. The kid walks past us and doesn’t seem to register our proximity at all.

“What?” the boy frowns.

“What do you want?” she deflects with a groan.

“A normal sister, for starters.” He spreads his arms and his hands pass through me and Reggie, standing on either side of him. I jump, but it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t really feel like much, if I’m being honest. It’s just… weird. He doesn’t seem to notice. “Stop being weird and come eat.”

He turns around and walks away, back towards the main house. It makes me wonder how much of it has changed in twenty five years. Twenty five years. A quarter of a century. We’ve been dead longer than we’ve been alive. It’s wild.

“He couldn’t see you,” the girl says, concerned.

Alex replies: “That’s usually how ghosts work.”

It doesn’t seem to move her much. If anything, she looks done with the situation. “Look, I’m very sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn’t your studio anymore. You have to leave.” And she sets off to follow her brother.

I can’t let her leave. I don’t know why, if it’s that she is the one person we’ve talked to who can see us, or because she has the answers, or because this place is hers and not ours anymore… “But wait!” I call after her. “We--- We didn’t get your name.”

She stops and turns to look at us. “It’s Julie.”

We have a name! First step towards establishing a connection. Perhaps she won’t abandon us just yet. “Cool,” I say. My voice is a little shaky. I still haven’t processed much and trust be told, our new friend is surprisingly intimidating. “I--- I’m Luke.” I take a step forward and she, still unimpressed with us apparently, rises her cross. I jump back. Not because I think it can hurt me, but because I don’t want to piss her off. Instead, I gesture to the guys. “And this is…”

“Reggie. I’m Reggie.” He smiles and waves.

Alex gives her a wave, too. “Alex. How’s it going?”

“Ba-da,” I say weakly. Her glare should be bottled and sold as air conditioning measure. It gives me chills.

“Ok?” she says and, not waiting for any more attempts to find common ground, she walks away.

“Julie seems nice,” says Reggie with a soft smile.

It earns him a disbelieving look from Alex. “Did you miss the part where she kicked us out or…” At Reggie’s genuinely confused expression, he shakes his head. “Yes. Ok…”

Safe to say, our afterlife is off to a weird start.

[sweetmemories2606]

Erza vs Kyoka (Rewrite) (Part 3)

@sassyglassesbunny I think you're gonna like this one. For real.

Erza panted, struggling to breathe while she returned to her normal clothes. Her fight against Kyoka hadn't been going too well, to say the least. Despite the fact that Porlyusica's potion had healed her injuries and restored her magic, she was still in no condition to fight; even less against someone as powerful as the nine demon gates.

"So pathetic." The demon scoffed. "Losing Jellal seems to have drained your magic abilities."

"How dare you say his name!" Erza immediately stood up and charged at her full force.

"Oh, did that hurt?" Kyoka smirked, easily sending the weakened mage away. "I'm sure that you're just boiling with rage, knowing I killed your beloved."

"You will pay for that!" Was the former's response as she reequipped into black wing armor and sent a powerful attack.

"That's right, Erza. Strike me down, if you can." The demon taunted and Erza complied, but barely managed to touch her.

"Why won't you just die?" She was getting frustrated.

"Do you really think that taking down one of the nine demon gates would be so easy?" Kyoka raised a brow, still unaffected.

"All I know is that I will take you down. For Jellal, for Mirajane. For all of Fairy Tail." Erza reequipped into one of her most powerful armors, adamantine. It had the ability to hold any attack and could also send it back towards the attacker.

A smile overtook her face once Kyoka's curse was quickly redirected, but it soon fell as the demon easily avoided it. "Not bad. But not good enough." The spell she sent next was so strong that it broke through Erza's armor, sending the mage back a few feet.

"What? How?" This wasn't good. She stared at the smirking opponent in shock as fear began to rise. Her magic power was fading once again, so she wouldn't hold on for much longer. She needed to finish this fight quickly, but how?

"Now, as amusing as fighting you has been, it's time to end it." Kyoka said as her smile enlarged.

"No. I refuse to be defeated so easily." Standing up with difficulty, Erza eyed her determinately.

"So you want more?" The demon asked, an idea coming to mind. "Very well, then. If pain is what you want, then I will show you just how much I can bring." She started to glow as her true Curse was activated, sending torrents of energy all around. As they reached the red head, she found herself knocked on her knees.

"You see, I have a very special curse that not only increases my power, but it allows a single touch to cause severe pain." The demon explained before approaching her, kicking her on the leg to prove her point.

"But I don't think that's enough to take you down." As Erza screamed in pain, Kyoka stepped back a bit. "You've proven yourself to be a capable warrior, so I will use my full power to defeat you."

The red head felt fear like never before as all of sudden she could no longer see her opponent. She couldn't see anything, only darkness. "What did you do?" She yelled while closing her eyes and opening them once again.

"I took away your sight, but that's not the only sense you'll lose before death finally comes." Within the next few seconds, the demon took away everything until Erza was lost in darkness and pain. It was all she could feel; it was torture and all she wanted in that moment was for it to end.

For the first time in her life, she wished for death. She begged for it, even though she could no longer hear her own voice. Tears streamed down her face, though she didn't feel them, as she pleaded for Kyoka to end her life.

"As you wish." The demon made her sword appear, the same one she'd used to almost kill Silver only a few days before. She was about to use it when she was suddenly thrown back by a dark orb crashing into her.

"What?" Her eyes widened once she spotted the familiar blue haired mage who had just cast Abyss Break. 

"Impossible." Kyoka shook her head, shocked. She actually felt afraid while staring at Jellal Fernandes; his dark green eyes were cold and unforgiving and his determination could be easily felt, as well as his immense magic power.

Now this was a twist that not even Zeref could've predicted.

                                   ____________

This was supposed to be the end, but I think it'd be nice to show you how Jellal survived.

Princess Hisui sat down, hands holding onto her knees while Colonel Arcadius stood in front of her, watching the door to the cottage, sword in hand. It had been over 15 minutes since Dorenbolt had left and they couldn't deny that his disappearance had made them nervous.

While they waited for his return, they'd discussed the situation they were currently facing and one conclusion was reached: whether they wanted or not, trusting Jellal and his allies was their only chance of staying alive.

After all, Tartarus had more than proved themselves a great threat by destroying the Magic Council and Hisui didn't want to become the next victim. She wasn't a pushover like many thought she might be; her strength was undeniable and she'd do anything to keep her kingdom safe. In order to do that, though, she would need to stay alive.

As much as Arcadius tried to convince her it wasn't a good idea to trust Jellal, she refuted his arguments and reminded him that he and Dorenbolt had saved her. Whatever their reasons were, they didn't want her to die, so she should be safe with them.

Besides, as she thought it through, Hisui realized that no matter what Jellal had done in the past, it was clear he wasn't the same person anymore. She'd seen it over the past seven years, had watched as him and his unofficial guild worked on freeing their world from darkness by taking down many dark guilds.

She had also seen during the Grand Magic Games how much he could care about someone, having heard of his encounter with Erza Scarlet on the 7th of July and later being witness to their bond during the night of the Grand Ball. So Hisui knew that not only was Jellal capable of good, but he had clearly been trying to become a better person.

For that reason, she was willing to give him a chance.

Her train of thought was broken by a loud noise as the door to the cottage suddenly opened. In came three members of the infamous Oracion Seis. Midnight was being held by Angel and Racer and was clearly injured.

"Sorry to barge in like this, your majesty." The white haired woman was quick to apologize while they placed the unconscious mage on the ground.

"Damn it! What are we going to do now?" Racer complained, panicked.

"I don't know. It's not like our magic can heal him." She replied, worried.

"I can help with that." Their eyes turned to the princess, eyebrows raised in confusion.

"You can?" Angel asked and Hisui nodded.

"I can conjure a spirit to heal his wounds, he should be fine." She reassured. As much as she didn't trust them, they weren't the enemy here.

"Why would you do that?" Racer asked rather harshly, clearly surprised by her suggestion.

Before she could answer, there was a bright light that dissipated to reveal the king, Darton, Richard, Cobra, Dorenbolt and Jellal.

"Finally!" Hisui exclaimed, but her expression turned to worried once she watched them place the latter on the ground.

"Daughter, are you alright?" The king was quick to ask as he raced towards her and she knelt down so they could hug.

"What happened?" Angel asked, eyes widening.

"The explosions." It was Cobra's simple response; his face was pale and jaw tense.

"Jellal used all of his magic trying to stop them." Dorenbolt elaborated, turning to the princess, who broke apart from the hug. "He exhausted himself to the point that his heart stopped beating, but thankfully we managed to revive him."

"Thank goodness." Hisui placed a hand on her nervous heart.

"He's not out of the woods yet." Cobra was quick to add. "If we don't get him help, he will be dead." She nodded.

"I was just telling your comrades about how I can conjure up a powerful spirit to heal them." They stared at her in surprise as she reached inside her dress pocket for a crystal key.

"Which gate does it open?" Angel was curious, never having seen one like it before.

"I can summon the celestial spirit king with this key." Hisui replied, making many eyes widen. "My father and I wanted to make a contract with him after what happened during the Games and he agreed."

They nodded to her explanation, still in shock. A few seconds later the immense being known as the celestial spirit king appeared in front of them. "What can I do for you, milady?" He turned to the princess with a soft smile.

"Your majesty, I ask for your help in healing Jellal and his comrade. They bravely thought to keep me safe and ended up getting hurt in the process, so I owe them." He nodded to her request, smile becoming larger.

"Then I owe them as well." He turned to look around the room. "Do not worry. Both of them will live, but I can't promise you'll all get through the battle ahead."

With that said, the king picked his sword and walked towards Jellal, placing it close to his chest. After muttering a few inaudible words, the sword began to glow and it wasn't long before they heard a deep breath as dark green eyes finally opened.

[tessatechaitea]

Batman #50

Why is this an anniversary issue? Does DC not know how years work? Or weddings?

Fact: Snickers' vampires grow their canine teeth in the wrong place. No wait. The fact is the artist of this piece is a dolt.

The story begins with Kite Man getting the crap kicked out of him by Batman and Catwoman because Tom King's hard on for Kite Man is legendary. It's so big and thick and veiny! I wonder what part of Kite Man Tom King likes best? Is it the kite part? Or the man part? Batman and Catwoman decide to get married on the blood spot where Kite Man was defeated at the break of day. Because that's when bats and cats are most horny. It might also be the place least likely to have a Joker ruin it. "Isn't it 'the' Joker, Grunion Guy?" you probably aren't now asking. But if you were, I might have to remind you that there are three Jokers in the DC Universe. Nobody has really elaborated on that too much. Maybe nobody was ever meant to. Perhaps it's just an easy way for DC editors to answer huge nerd critics of their comics. Huge Nerd Critic: "How come the Joker wasn't act...." DC Editor: "THERE ARE THREE OF THEM! CHRIST YOU NERDS ARE GETTING ON MY LAST TIT!" Batman finds a judge for the marriage ceremony. His name is Wolfman and he's known as the Raping Judge. Not because he's into rape! That's a terrible thought and nobody should think it. It's because he's named after Marv Wolfman who is totally into rape. Catwoman's witness for the marriage (her and Batman each get to bring one) is Holly Robinson. Not the Holly Robinson of 21 Jumpstreet fame (is she still famous for that? Or is she famous for marrying Barry Sanders?!) but the one that murdered all of those people who Catwoman was blamed for murdering. She has to break her out of Arkham for the experience. Batman should be totally cool with that and definitely won't be thinking, "What the hell?! How many times do I have to tell her, 'No crime! Bad kitty! You're going to be punished for sure!'" Then he'll think about her whip and smirk a bit and think, "Oh yeah. I see why she keeps doing crime now." If you read that last paragraph and began developing a hot take on what I'm not saying around the words I am saying, just stop now. I'm just reporting what Batman was probably thinking. I'm not agreeing with his need to control Catwoman's thoughts and actions! That's all Bruce Wayne, baby! The issue is made up of a lot of pin-ups by various artists. Laid out over the pin-ups are Batman and Catwoman's words. They're probably their vows but since I'm not done reading, that's just a guess. Anyway, the layout, where everything is kind of a mirror of the opposite page, is pure Tom King which probably pissed off all the Tom King haters. "He's just repeating everything in that way that means nothing except he's trying to be smarter than us! Why the fuck does he have to use form?! And tones?! And theme!? What's wrong with Batman punching stuff for eight pages straight?! So obnoxious!" I began this review with the joke that the wedding obviously won't work out. This is comic books. Everybody read that initial paragraph and rolled their eyes and thought, "Yeah. We know this is a huge farce. It's going to end in disaster." But how many of you thought, "Grunion Guy probably really means what he's writing here. The big fag." First off, such language! Come on, imaginary reader. Be better! Second, I did mean it. I do mean it. I really hope that Tom King surprises us and he allows Batman and Catwoman to be happily married. Why not for as long as he's writing this book? Why can't they have part of their middle story be one where they get the joy of being together? Who is that going to harm?! So now you know my secret. No, not that I'm a big fag! Sheesh. You people are terrible. I mean, yeah, that's my secret! But I wouldn't word it that way, you gross jerks. Selina and Bruce have their big wedding kiss in the exact middle of the book which can't be a good sign for how it's going to end. I mean, they haven't had the wedding yet! They just get all dressed up and then meet, right in the middle, right there on the staples (okay, not exactly because the staples come the page before. But I blame an error in the layout of the advertisements. I see what you were trying to do, Tom King. I got you!). The big loving embrace. The big kiss in their wedding finery. The moment they knew was coming. And hopefully not the last moment they were happy. Don't you dare, Tom King, with your shitty mirror image story telling that everybody hates (I mean, not me! Just the dumb critics!), do that mirror thing with this story. Don't you begin hopeful, get to a middle that's the peak of happiness, and then descend into chaos, despair, and destruction! DON'T YOU FUCKING DO IT, TOM KING!

This is the page immediately after the big kiss (and the pin-ups, of course! Every two page spread of story is followed by two pages of pin-ups and wedding vows). Things are already tumbling down the story's climactic peak!

Of course Alfred is Batman's witness. Even Alfred knew it would be him but he was too polite to assume so he still gets emotional when Bruce asks him. Or, rather, casually tells him like it's no big deal. On the subject of the pin-ups: they tell the story of Batman and Catwoman across DC's history. It even feels like, in many cases, they use artists chronologically along the way (there are obvious places where this doesn't hold up. But it, mostly, feels fairly close to the mark). They even eventually get to the New 52 on the roof sex scene, and the recent double date with Clark and Lois. It's really quite sweet. The wedding vows have a lot to do with one partner's thoughts on the other partner's eyes. It's romantic but not in that way that makes me think, "Oh boy! At the end of these vows, they're going to declare their undying love for each other!" The tone feels more like they'll cause me to exclaim, "Oh no! It sounds like they're both reaching the conclusion that maybe they shouldn't get married! But they'll still probably keep up the tradition of fucking on rooftops!" Also, I'm nearing the end and not a single whiff of Batcow. As Selina and Holly head to the wedding, Selina mentions that she's currently writing Batman a letter. So that's what the "vows" have been. Her letter. And Batman's letter to her (I'm assuming on the next page which I have yet to read, he'll confess to Alfred that he's also been working on a letter!). Both of which, as I mentioned in the previous paragraph, seem to be heading to the conclusion that neither one will want to go through with the marriage because they feel it will go against, and possibly change, the very nature of the other person. So. You know. Shit. And so, Selina declares, in her letter, that she can't marry Batman because it will kill him. And Bruce declares in his letter, that maybe he can become somebody happy. Maybe he can change. Which isn't exactly what I expected. I thought they would both agree. So, at least, Tom King surprised me on that level. And, apparently, that was the point since Holly goes back to Arkham to discover Bane and a bunch of other people who have been highlighted in Tom King's run (along with Poorly Shaved Batman. I don't remember if that's somebody or if that's Batman and this is all a hallucination of some kind or maybe Tom King is speaking through Bane or maybe...well, I don't know!). Bane says, "The Bat is broken," (which is a terrific pun that somebody once thought up and now Batman writers can't stop using!). Rating:: I guess giving Batman hope that he can be happy and then taking it away is supposed to break Batman? But isn't the whole point that Batman's unhappiness and grim misery and obsession over justice are the only things keeping him Batman? Won't this devastating loss just make him even more Batmanier?! Or do the members of Batman's rogue's gallery all believe he's going to become a pouting emo baby for the next few months? A total pushover which they can take advantage of?! Anyway, it was a good story well told. The only flaw was that the staples were off by one page. Stupid layout editor! Somebody should fire whoever's job it was to place the ads!

[yoshizora]

part 10

lmao wow i’m finally updating that monster au!!!

Things begin to seem bleak after a while. Not when the snow melts, because hope is still fresh in their hearts, not when the flowers bloom, because they can’t acknowledge the worst case scenario, but when Hanayo’s arm falls off at the shoulder they realize it’s summer and they’re far from home and who-knows-how-far from Rin. They’ve got nothing to show for their efforts.

Hanayo’s body is falling apart but even that doesn’t seem to matter much to her. She’s a walking, groaning stack of bones and skin and hair held together by spider threads, still mournfully caterwauling at night in case Rin hears. But there never are any responses, only the fearful scattering of animals and other things that hide in the dirt. All Nozomi can do is keep them moving in case. Just in case. That perpetual just in case that never happens and when Hanayo’s other arm falls off as they’re climbing along the foot of a mountain, Nozomi contemplates going home.

But, Hanayo had once articulated, it isn’t home when Rin isn’t there.

The windy mountains slope down into a forest not too unlike the one where they had come from. It’s by a bubbling creek where a spider comes whispering in Nozomi’s ear, and for the first time in weeks, things don’t seem so bleak after all.

“Spread the word to Nico and Eli, dear,” Nozomi says to the long-legged spider. It obligingly skitters away and Hanayo tilts her head. Her face is nearly gone at this point. Nozomi smiles wide, and gently cradles her skeletal jaw in one hand.

“She’s close.”

Hanayo’s bones rattle in anticipation.

—

“Rin.” Maki, ever the impatient one, kicks dirt up when she catches Rin napping in a patch of sunlight. It gets in her hair and all over her clothes, but Rin does nothing but roll over and curl up.

“Rin.”

She could kill her. It’d be easy. A manticore without its venom is just about a regular mountain lion, if mountain lions also had wings, but Rin’s wings are too tattered to catch any wind. What use is she, then? None at all, apparently. Completely useless. She can’t even go fetch the things Maki told her to get.

“Rin!” This time, instead of kicking dirt, Maki kicks her in the side.

It does the trick; Rin startles and jolts, scrabbling at the dirt and vigorously shaking her head. Her ears press flat against her head, a telltale sign of her guilt. “A-ah, Maki! I was just— napping!”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Maki rolls her eyes. “I thought I told you to go gather things for me.”

“Ummm. I’m nocturnal?”

Maki’s fingers curl around air like she’s handling something particularly unpleasant. Rin’s still lying on the ground, pouting up at her as if she expects something like that to actually work. “At least put some effort into your excuses!”

“Maybe it’s seasonal!” It isn’t. Rin maintains her pout as she stands, stretching those useless wings to shake the dirt off. “I was gonna get to it eventually!”

“Eventually is a terrible work ethic.”

“But it’s still ‘eventually’!”

Arguing with Rin’s special brand of logic is pointless. Maki was quick to learn that lesson when they met back when the snow was melting, when she came across her bleeding in the bushes. Rin had attacked, of course. But a wounded beast would only have two options when confronted, and this one was clearly too hungry to run or recognize a fight she couldn’t win. Yet even after Maki gained the upper hand and lopped off Rin’s tail with the knife she used to cut plants, Rin didn’t leave.

Assuming Rin was dead was her first mistake. The second was dressing her wounds and trickling water down her parched throat, when Maki found her still feebly twitching on the ground the next day. But what can Maki say? She’s weak to her own bouts of pity.

She just doesn’t like to see things die, is all.

“Hurry up. The last of the mandrakes will be dying off soon,” Maki says. She turns and looks up at what bits of sky are visible through the trees. Behind her, Rin loudly yawns and smacks her lips.

“Uh huh. Two basketfuls, right? What’re you makin’ this time?”

“Just medicine to sell at the village.”

Maki reflexively freezes up when she feels Rin stepping too close to her, leathery wings stretching and circling around them. She knows by now that Rin wouldn’t hurt her, but it’s a reflex nonetheless.

“I wanna come with you. It’s boring when you’re not around.”

“Don’t be stupid, you know I’d lose all credibility if I brought the likes of you around.” Humans trust unicorns. They practically worship Maki. If they saw Rin, on the other hand… “Besides, you know I’ll only be gone for a day.”

This time, she nearly jolts when Rin hesitantly wraps her arms around her.

“H-hey, you’re supposed to be harvesting mandrakes for me.”

“I know, I know.”

It’s just… awkward. She sometimes wants to ask why Rin had been bleeding in the bushes that day they met when the snow was melting, but somehow it never came up after she nursed her back to health. It’s like she had simply fallen out of the sky. Maybe she did. Where did she come from? Who hurt her? What happened? The questions burn in the back of her throat, but die on the tip of her tongue.

Sometimes she gets the impression that Rin just doesn’t want to talk about it.

Then Rin finally lets go of Maki and wordlessly goes to fetch the baskets. Maki lets out breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, unsettled by Rin’s odd moment of sentimentality. Awkward, indeed. She’d like to ask her someday, but that someday implies that Rin would be staying here for some time to come.

But she wouldn’t, would she?

It isn’t long before the air is filled with the horrible shrieking of mandrake roots and the panicking of birds fleeing by flocks, and Maki retreats back into her burrow to avoid the brunt of the noise. Her headaches are bad enough as is. At least she has someone to do the dirtier bits of work for her now.

—

Rin’s severed tail hangs from the dirt ceiling amongst dangling tree roots and garlands of herbs like a piece of decoration, a constant reminder to Rin that Maki is no pushover and a reminder to Maki that Rin is more or less harmless now, teeth and claws aside. She hates vegetables, and hates fish even more, but Maki doesn’t like hunting and for some odd reason, Rin prefers forcing the bitter soups down her throat than going out to look for her own food. Truly harmless, indeed.

But she’s a carnivore, and an herbivore’s diet is slowly making her weaker and weaker until even Maki has to say something about it. No wonder she’s been sleeping so often. Rin hasn’t been lazy, she’s just been fatigued.

“Go hunt, for gods’ sake. I won’t have you dying inside my home. I don’t mind as long as you don’t bring leftovers back here.”

Rin fervently shakes her head. “I can’t hunt.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“I- I don’t wanna.”

And she looks so uncharacteristically afraid for some reason, who even knows why, that Maki just sighs and makes a half-biting comment about how useless Rin is. The next time she journeys down to the humans’ village, she uses some of her own saved money to buy pieces of boar meat for Rin.

On the way back, she imagines she smells something like decay along the warm forest path, but can’t find any dead animals when she investigates.

—

The smell doesn’t go away. In fact, it only gets stronger the closer she gets to her burrow, and Maki’s quick trot breaks out into a run when she finds traces of frost along the trees that don’t belong in this summer heat. Why here? Why now? Panic grips her and Maki slips on leaves that had been coated by melting ice, nearly giving herself away with a shriek when she spots the rotting thing circling her tree, searching for the entrance to her burrow.

Rin. She’s probably inside sleeping, completely unaware of the terror right outside. Maki’s no predator, her kind don’t fight, her instincts all tell her to flee and find refuge in the village where the humans will surely protect her with their guns and steel.

But Rin’s useless as she is and can’t defend herself. She can’t just leave her there at the wendigo’s mercy without a clear conscience.

Something sharp taps her shoulder, and a woman’s voice greets her from behind.

“Hello, there.”

Spiders crawl up her legs. This time, Maki does scream.

—

If Hanayo still had a working heart, it would’ve fallen from her chest with how quickly it would have been beating away. The scream from the treelines doesn’t deter her, because Nozomi can take care of whatever it is, and Rin’s scent is so strong that it’s all she can focus on.

There. A bit of loose dirt. She plunges one hand in and scoops, and the dirt collapses inward with a cloud of dust. The hollow beneath the tree is large enough for a family of bears to stand in, but there are no bears, only an assortment of odd wooden furniture, and the strong odor of herbs, and…

A manticore’s tail hanging from the ceiling.

She reaches out to it with a trembling claw, brushing over the dried shell. It’s Rin’s. It’s unmistakeably Rin’s and the rest of Rin is nowhere to be found. Whoever was screaming outside is still screaming, and it clicks into one piece with a dreadful conclusion.

Hanayo pulls the tail from the ceiling and ducks back outside, the frost around her feet spreading.

—

“No, no, it’s alright! Stop screaming! We’re not here to hurt you, we just want our friend back—“

“GET THESE SPIDERS OFF ME!!”

“Well now, I can’t stop children from being children.”

“THEY’RE SPIDERS!!”

“They’re children.”

“SPIDERS!!!”

—

As if things couldn’t get any worse after Maki fell over with the spiders all over her and the arachnid cheerfully trying to explain how curious children naturally are, the air suddenly gets a noticeable chill. On the bright side, the spiders are driven away by the abrupt cold. On the downside, the wendigo is now wrapping one skeletal hand around her wrist and lifting her up clear off the ground, all teeth bared.

Maki wheezes, and the only thought going through her mind is of the package of boar meat spilled across the dirt. For gods’ sake.

—

But she was never really in any real danger, because Hanayo’s anger is never, ever potent enough to drive her to kill or even fight and Nozomi wouldn’t allow it anyway. In fact, it was simply a matter of miscommunication; Hanayo, unable to speak coherently, had her dreaded desperation mistaken as murderous intent, and Maki, already riled up by Nozomi’s spiders (“children”), was too busy screaming and flailing to listen to Nozomi’s attempts to explain themselves.

But one typically doesn’t respond with rational calmness when a wendigo and arachnid show up at the doorstep, so.

—

“Kayo-chin?”

Everything stops at once, even the spiders, except for Maki’s shrieking. Hanayo slowly turns around, eye sockets brimming with tears. Or it could be pus, either or. Nozomi’s hands fly to her mouth and her eyes do fill with tears, all eight of her legs trembling with disbelief.

There, only a few meters away, stands Rin, gaunt and scruffy but very much alive.

Maki finally stops screaming, and instead grunts when she’s carelessly dropped. Hanayo carefully treads closer to Rin as if the ground is made of thin ice, hands extended and sad noises coming from her throat.

The words could come, but they can’t. So instead, Rin rushes to close the rest of the distance between them and throws herself into Hanayo’s arms, wailing.

“K-Kayo-chiiin…! I’m s-s-sorryyyy—“

Gods, the noise is nearly as deafening as the mandrake cries.

—

Everything does eventually get sorted out, sort of, and Nozomi does give Maki a somewhat unfriendly frown when she reluctantly confesses that she was the one who cut off Rin’s tail and strung it up like a piece of decoration. But Rin is too busy crying and stuffing her face with the boar meat to really comment on that part, so it slides for now.

They finally found Rin, and that’s all that matters.

“I- I can’t go back. Because Nico…”

“Nico already forgave you,” Nozomi sadly smiles and pets Rin’s head. Rin dribbles and sobs again, pressing herself up against her. “She misses you a lot, too. We all went looking for you. Ever since Hanayo came back, we’ve been looking.”

Rin swallows, the semblance of her usual energy already trickling back with each bite of meat. She hugs Nozomi, then hugs Hanayo, then looks to Maki with round, wet eyes. “A-a-and Maki saved my life!!”

“It wasn’t a big deal…” she mumbles, leaning back against a tree a bit away from the others. “I just didn’t want you to die right outside my home. It would’ve been a pain.”

Nozomi gives her an odd look, but says nothing.

“Hhhggkhhaarrgh.”

“I thought about you too every single day!!”

They’re making a mess with all that hugging. Hanayo looks like she’s going to fall apart with how tightly Rin’s holding onto her.

“Hhgahgh rrkkah?” Hanayo looks at the tail, laid across Nozomi’s back.

“Umm, maybe we can just tie it back on…”

“Or Maki can reattach it with her… unicorn magic?” Nozomi’s lips slowly spread into a smile, eyes narrowed. “It shouldn’t be hard at all for a beast with such magical strength.”

“I- It’s not that simple!” Maki, flustered, tugs at her hair. “There’s a lot of ingredients to be gathered and prep to be done, a-and the tail is dried already, and—“

“And you’re not a unicorn, are you?”

Rin’s endless stream of tears stops. Hanayo looks up as well, head tilted. Ah. Well, their staring is only making her even more nervous, and Maki contemplates just making a run for it. But that’d be silly and useless, of course.

“What do you know? Leave me alone.” She scowls, looking away. Nozomi approaches with hands outstretched threateningly, reaching for which parts of her, Maki isn’t sure, but she doesn’t think she wants to find out. She quickly ducks away from Nozomi and hurriedly steps away.

“Have you been lying to our dear little Rin this whole time, Maki?”

“No.” Yes.

“Of course Rin wouldn’t know any better, since she probably doesn’t know what a real unicorn smells like.” Nozomi clicks her tongue and shakes her head, but she’s still smiling with an infuriating twinkle in her eye. Maki thinks that maybe she’d rather be frowned at. “Right, Rin?”

“But the humans in the nearby village love Maki! She told me so! Cuz she’s a unicorn!”

But the gig is up. Rin might still be in disbelief but Nozomi and Hanayo could probably tell from the moment they saw her burrow. Real unicorns don’t live in dark dusty little burrows beneath trees, they live in flowery meadows beneath the open sky, prancing about like assholes. 

Maki buries her face in her hands and groans.

“It was for business. Humans don’t care about… my kind, but they practically worship unicorns. You can’t blame me for deceiving them like that.”

“Nooo, we can’t.” Nozomi’s grinning now, just waiting for Maki to finally admit the final piece of the truth. “So…?”

Maki glances between her, Hanayo, and Rin. Is it still to late to consider running? Yes. Gods, her face is burning up, which is obviously only making things worse for herself. She’d been so careful all this time too, living in a secluded part of the forest, careful about keeping her burrow hidden, never letting any humans follow her home… taking care of Rin was clearly the first of many big mistakes that snowballed into this final reveal.

Not that she truly regrets saving Rin’s life, but still.

She sighs a heavy sigh. “…I’m a gnome.”

Rin makes a face, swallowing another mouthful of boar meat. “What?”

“I’m a gnome! I use my magic to disguise myself! The horn is just a fake! Now leave me alone!”

For the first time since she’s met her, Rin’s face lights up and she laughs a real laugh, full of joy (but she’s also just laughing at Maki, partly) and all of that vague guilt and hesitance that’s been plaguing her all this time finally gone, and Maki thinks this might not be so bad after all, even with Hanayo politely covering her horrid grin and Nozomi chortling.

“So, so can you still attach Rin’s tail back, then?” Rin asks.

“Oh… no, I can’t. Sorry.”

“Oh.”

[weirdfella]

Top 5 Myths About ISFJs

By Jayne Thompson (truity.com)

ISFJs are painted as compassionate, loyal and dutiful, often to the point of being a pushover. Famous ISFJs include Mother Teresa, Queen Elizabeth II and Rosa Parks—people who embody the notion of putting service above self in most aspects of their lives.

But do ISFJs have a side that's mysterious...or even wild? Here are the top five myths about the ISFJ personality, plus a peek into what's really going on beneath the goody-two-shoes stereotype.

Myth #1: ISFJs cannot make rational decisions (and will do anything to please others)

ISFJs rank among the types most likely to enjoy serving others and are well-represented in the education and religious occupations. But that they blindly people-please and cannot be rational is false. In fact, ISFJs have a strong grip on logic and are perfectly capable of questioning new ideas and behaviors until they reach a conclusion that makes sense to them.

ISFJs are unique in the sense that they possess strong introverted Thinking and extraverted Feeling, and these functions lie very close together. Introverted Thinking makes them logical, analytical and often tough-minded. Extraverted Feeling is the trait that allows ISFJs to see things from another's perspective. Together, these traits make them very aware of opposing sides of an argument - the very skills that allow ISFJs to be so supportive, and strive for win-win, universally beneficial outcomes. You can't make everyone happy unless you can objectively make sense of their competing viewpoints, right?

The drawback, if there is one, is that ISFJs may find themselves caught in a struggle between logic and emotion, earning a reputation as tetchy or moody. This is especially true if they don't have enough "me" time to recharge their batteries and regain control over their feelings. But when the balance is right, ISFJs are capable of bringing great order, logic, clarity, and precision to any situation.

Myth #2: ISFJs have no imagination (and are incapable of being amazing at anything)

Erm...Mother Teresa, Gwyneth Paltrow and Tiger Woods haven't achieved anything amazing? Seriously, this myth stems from the fact that ISFJs are traditionalists who value loyalty, hard work and practicality. They are the type most likely to do the heavy lifting. You'll often find an ISFJ helping out, staying late and volunteering their goodwill, even if their efforts go unnoticed.

Unfortunately, these traits are out of fashion in today's go-getting, entrepreneurial world. The skills that make ISFJs such reliable coworkers, parents and friends have seen them mistyped as dull, unimaginative and lacking in charisma. This is not fair. ISFJs are intensely creative and are fascinated and inspired by many things. They instinctively use their creativity to formulate empathy, observing others' actions and coming up with novel solutions that allow others to be the best they can be. You have to wonder, if an ISFJ's creativity were more self-serving, would it be better rewarded?

For the most part, ISFJ creativity is fueled by two muses: perseverance and observation. ISFJs have a rich inner world and an astonishing memory, and they can use their past experiences to great innovative effect. If an ISFJ wants to be creative, she takes what she knows, knuckles down and develops the idea until she gets the result she desires. It's a very practical type of creativity, but requires no less imagination.

Myth #3: ISFJs are doormats (who never stand up for themselves)

Before we delve into the stereotype, it's worth calling attention to Rosa Parks, the African-American civil rights activist who refused to give up her seat on the bus for a white person. In doing so, Rosa broke both social convention and the law. She was willing, at great personal cost, to stand up for her beliefs. Does this lady sound like a doormat?

We often picture ISFJs as being passive and uptight. But this is far from the truth. People who identify as ISFJ are typically humble and private, rarely calling attention to themselves. Much of what they do is aimed at protecting others' feelings and they may let everyday wrongdoings slide in order to keep the peace. But don't mistake these qualities for passivity. When the chips are down, ISFJs will fight hard for justice.

As Rosa Park showed, ISFJs will not just "fall in line" and do what is expected of them. In fact, since they are far more perfectionist in their handling of facts than other types, and motivated to care for people, it makes sense that ISFJs will draw attention to inaccuracies and injustices that elude other personality types.

Myth #4: ISFJs are controlling (and really can't handle change)

It's a common belief that ISFJs are bad with change, either because they fear the unknown or cannot adapt quickly enough to new experiences. There's an element of truth in this stereotype. ISFJs are defenders of tradition who take great comfort from the habits they've developed over the years. They often have a very clear idea of the ways things should be and may mistrust changes that disrupt tried-and-tested processes. But this does not mean that ISFJs are change-resistant - they just need to pay attention to the details.

To make sense of this, you need to separate the outcome of change from the process of change. Often, it is the latter that an ISFJ finds upsetting, especially if the change is thrust upon them without warning. ISFJs generally need lots of information to get comfortable with a new situation. In particular, they require clear evidence that the proposed changes will improve things or benefit people. They are usually only resistant when the change is ill-considered or lacks a specific purpose. And really, is there anything wrong with wanting to plan, reflect, and consider the options before trying something new?

ISFJs apply the same preparation to large social gatherings, public speaking and other things that they are supposedly scared of. You might be surprised how assured and spontaneous an ISFJ can be in these situations ..... once they've done their homework.

Myth #5: ISFJs are moody, emotional wrecks (and expert door slammers, too)

ISFJs can be moody and temperamental, but so can every other personality type. The reason ISFJs have a reputation for moodiness is that, to the outside world, you can become moody for no apparent reason. While it's pretty easy to predict that an ENTJ will get cranky if they're not permitted to dominate the discussion, it's likely that no one will have the faintest idea why an ISFJ has suddenly thrown a tantrum.

Why? It's because ISFJs have strong feelings, but tend to keep them tightly under wraps. When an ISFJ does unleash their anger in an all-out attack, it's because their emotions have reached critical mass and they can't keep them locked away anymore. An ISFJ might literally cry over spilled milk, but the chances are, there's a lot more bubbling away under the surface. But if they keep their feelings bottled up on a day-to-day basis, then a negative outburst is going to take others by surprise. The ISFJ is going to come across as emotional - even if the label is not true.

Most ISFJs are aware that they repress their feelings and find ways to handle the potential consequences of this behavior. In fact, it explains why ISFJs are such sticklers for social etiquette - social norms provide a comfortable structure and a set of rules for keeping things fair, polite and conflict-free. You might never stop an ISFJ from worrying, but the healthy ISFJ can usually be coaxed to share their feelings openly and thus avoid any major explosions.

Remember, no two ISFJs are the same and if you do find a stereotypical one, it often means that you've taken them at face value. Scratch beneath the surface, and you'll find someone who is kind, hardworking, practical, empathetic, creative, resilient, flexible, well rounded, and far deeper than the prissy stereotype they're boxed into. Way to go ISFJs!

[typologycentral]

[ISFJ] Top 5 Myths About ISFJ's

Worried about being perceived as an ISFJ because of some sad stereotypes? Have no fear for Forever has got your back! : Top 5 Myths About ISFJs | Truity ISFJs are painted as compassionate, loyal and dutiful, often to the point of being a pushover. Famous ISFJs include Mother Teresa, Queen Elizabeth II and Rosa Parks—people who embody the notion of putting service above self in most aspects of their lives. But do ISFJs have a side that's mysterious...or even wild? Here are the top five myths about the ISFJ personality, plus a peek into what's really going on beneath the goody-two-shoes stereotype. Myth #1: ISFJs cannot make rational decisions (and will do anything to please others) ISFJs rank among the types most likely to enjoy serving others and are well-represented in the education and religious occupations. But that they blindly people-please and cannot be rational is false. In fact, ISFJs have a strong grip on logic and are perfectly capable of questioning new ideas and behaviors until they reach a conclusion that makes sense to them. ISFJs are unique in the sense that they possess strong introverted Thinking and extraverted Feeling, and these functions lie very close together. Introverted Thinking makes them logical, analytical and often tough-minded. Extraverted Feeling is the trait that allows ISFJs to see things from another's perspective. Together, these traits make them very aware of opposing sides of an argument - the very skills that allow ISFJs to be so supportive, and strive for win-win, universally beneficial outcomes. You can't make everyone happy unless you can objectively make sense of their competing viewpoints, right? The drawback, if there is one, is that ISFJs may find themselves caught in a struggle between logic and emotion, earning a reputation as tetchy or moody. This is especially true if they don't have enough "me" time to recharge their batteries and regain control over their feelings. But when the balance is right, ISFJs are capable of bringing great order, logic, clarity, and precision to any situation. Myth #2: ISFJs have no imagination (and are incapable of being amazing at anything) Erm...Mother Teresa, Gwyneth Paltrow and Tiger Woods haven't achieved anything amazing? Seriously, this myth stems from the fact that ISFJs are traditionalists who value loyalty, hard work and practicality. They are the type most likely to do the heavy lifting. You'll often find an ISFJ helping out, staying late and volunteering their goodwill, even if their efforts go unnoticed. Unfortunately, these traits are out of fashion in today's go-getting, entrepreneurial world. The skills that make ISFJs such reliable coworkers, parents and friends have seen them mistyped as dull, unimaginative and lacking in charisma. This is not fair. ISFJs are intensely creative and are fascinated and inspired by many things. They instinctively use their creativity to formulate empathy, observing others' actions and coming up with novel solutions that allow others to be the best they can be. You have to wonder, if an ISFJ's creativity were more self-serving, would it be better rewarded? For the most part, ISFJ creativity is fueled by two muses: perseverance and observation. ISFJs have a rich inner world and an astonishing memory, and they can use their past experiences to great innovative effect. If an ISFJ wants to be creative, she takes what she knows, knuckles down and develops the idea until she gets the result she desires. It's a very practical type of creativity, but requires no less imagination. Myth #3: ISFJs are doormats (who never stand up for themselves) Before we delve into the stereotype, it's worth calling attention to Rosa Parks, the African-American civil rights activist who refused to give up her seat on the bus for a white person. In doing so, Rosa broke both social convention and the law. She was willing, at great personal cost, to stand up for her beliefs. Does this lady sound like a doormat? We often picture ISFJs as being passive and uptight. But this is far from the truth. People who identify as ISFJ are typically humble and private, rarely calling attention to themselves. Much of what they do is aimed at protecting others' feelings and they may let everyday wrongdoings slide in order to keep the peace. But don't mistake these qualities for passivity. When the chips are down, ISFJs will fight hard for justice. As Rosa Park showed, ISFJs will not just "fall in line" and do what is expected of them. In fact, since they are far more perfectionist in their handling of facts than other types, and motivated to care for people, it makes sense that ISFJs will draw attention to inaccuracies and injustices that elude other personality types. Myth #4: ISFJs are controlling (and really can't handle change) It's a common belief that ISFJs are bad with change, either because they fear the unknown or cannot adapt quickly enough to new experiences. There's an element of truth in this stereotype. ISFJs are defenders of tradition who take great comfort from the habits they've developed over the years. They often have a very clear idea of the ways things should be and may mistrust changes that disrupt tried-and-tested processes. But this does not mean that ISFJs are change-resistant - they just need to pay attention to the details. To make sense of this, you need to separate the outcome of change from the process of change. Often, it is the latter that an ISFJ finds upsetting, especially if the change is thrust upon them without warning. ISFJs generally need lots of information to get comfortable with a new situation. In particular, they require clear evidence that the proposed changes will improve things or benefit people. They are usually only resistant when the change is ill-considered or lacks a specific purpose. And really, is there anything wrong with wanting to plan, reflect, and consider the options before trying something new? ISFJs apply the same preparation to large social gatherings, public speaking and other things that they are supposedly scared of. You might be surprised how assured and spontaneous an ISFJ can be in these situations ..... once they've done their homework. Myth #5: ISFJs are moody, emotional wrecks (and expert door slammers, too) ISFJs can be moody and temperamental, but so can every other personality type. The reason ISFJs have a reputation for moodiness is that, to the outside world, you can become moody for no apparent reason. While it's pretty easy to predict that an ENTJ will get cranky if they're not permitted to dominate the discussion, it's likely that no one will have the faintest idea why an ISFJ has suddenly thrown a tantrum. Why? It's because ISFJs have strong feelings, but tend to keep them tightly under wraps. When an ISFJ does unleash their anger in an all-out attack, it's because their emotions have reached critical mass and they can't keep them locked away anymore. An ISFJ might literally cry over spilled milk, but the chances are, there's a lot more bubbling away under the surface. But if they keep their feelings bottled up on a day-to-day basis, then a negative outburst is going to take others by surprise. The ISFJ is going to come across as emotional - even if the label is not true. Most ISFJs are aware that they repress their feelings and find ways to handle the potential consequences of this behavior. In fact, it explains why ISFJs are such sticklers for social etiquette - social norms provide a comfortable structure and a set of rules for keeping things fair, polite and conflict-free. You might never stop an ISFJ from worrying, but the healthy ISFJ can usually be coaxed to share their feelings openly and thus avoid any major explosions. Remember, no two ISFJs are the same and if you do find a stereotypical one, it often means that you've taken them at face value. Scratch beneath the surface, and you'll find someone who is kind, hardworking, practical, empathetic, creative, resilient, flexible, well rounded, and far deeper than the prissy stereotype they're boxed into. Way to go ISFJs! http://www.typologycentral.com/forums/the-sj-guardhouse-esfj-isfj-estj-istj-/88792-top-5-myths-isfjs-new-post.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[falconerelectronics]

Interview with Ted Arnn, Great-Nephew of Thomas and Mina Edison

Wow! Our team at Falconer Electronics was recently blessed with an amazing opportunity. Ted Arnn, a great-nephew of Thomas Edison and his wife Mina Miller Edison, provided us with an outstanding interview.

We were absolutely thrilled with this opportunity. Ted Arnn is kind, gracious, humble and funny. Also, he shared numerous fascinating stories on the Edison Family from a first-hand perspective.

Learning about a historic figure and entrepreneurial legend like Thomas Edison from a living relative was certainly informational, educational and most of all extremely exciting. In fact, Ted Arnn shares bloodlines with a list of hugely successful individuals.

For example, his great-grandfather, Lewis Miller was a 19th-century inventor and industrialist who also founded Chautauqua Institution.

In addition, the women of the Miller family also went on to find great success. Therefore, our discussion primarily focused on Ted Arnn's aunt, the incredible Mina Miller Edison.

The Edison Family & Chautauqua Institution Connection 

This post continues our blog series on the Thomas and Mina Edison family as well as their connection to a local landmark Chautauqua Institution.

Our path started by connecting with the team at the Chautauqua Institution Archives. From there, Chautauqua Institution archivist, Jonathan Schmitz recommended reaching out the great-nephew of Thomas and Mina Edison, Ted Arnn.

Ted Arnn immediately replied to our request for an interview and graciously accepted. Furthermore, Ted Arnn far exceeded our expectations with thorough answers, hysterical stories and the generosity of his time.

Below we share pieces of that interview. Enjoy!

Interview with Ted Arnn

Question 1: What was your mother's relationship with Mina?

Answer: Ted shared how his mother Nancy Miller Arnn was extremely close to her aunt Mina Miller Edison. Nancy lost both of her parents before the age of 18. Nancy then moved in with Mina at the Edison home in West Orange, New Jersey. After Thomas Edison died in 1931, Mina brought Nancy to Chautauqua Institution for the summer. As a result, Nancy ended up spending nearly every summer at Chautauqua Institution with Mina. 

Question 2: What do you think was Mina's Proudest achievement?

Answer: Mina accomplished plenty in her lifetime. The Bird, Tree & Garden Club at Chautauqua was what Mina was most proud of. Mina was very interested in nature and birds. 

Question 3: Do you have any stories or do you know any characteristics of Mina's Parents, Lewis, and Valinda Miller?

Answer: Lewis was a successful inventor of agriculture and farming machinery. For example, Lewis Miller  invented the Buckeye mower which allowed increased safety and efficiency for farmers.

Also, after Lewis died, Valinda and a couple daughters opened a finishing school in their home. They also invested in a company that eventually became Quaker Oats and made them a million dollars in the process. So needless to say, entrepreneurship ran deep with the highly ambitious women of the Miller family. 

Question 4: What do you believe would be some of the accomplishments Mina would achieve if she were alive today?

Answer: Ted responded that Mina "certainly wouldn't be sitting around on the porch sipping tea, that's for sure." She would be heavily engaged in pursuing her passions.

Another excellent example of Mina's relentless determination occurred during the 1930's. Chautauqua Institution severely suffered financially during the Great Depression and Mina decided to take action. As a result, Mina put up the funds by purchasing bonds to prevent the Hotel Antheneum from falling into receivership. This relentless determination of Mina reflects as Thomas Edison said, "If there is a way to do it better, find it". 

Question 5: What characteristics of Mina should young women entering college or their careers know about Mina that would be helpful?

Answer:  Our takeaway from this question to Ted:

Take     advantage of every opportunity

Get     Involved

Follow     Your Passion

Break     Barriers

For example, Mina was an extremely positive role model for Ted Arnn's mother Nancy Miller Arnn. Nancy earned her degree in three years from Radcliffe University (now part of Harvard University). Furthermore, she graduated Magna Cum Laude. 

Question 6: Was it emotional for you and your sister Kim to sell the Miller Cottage?

Answer: No, because it went to a great owner. It is almost 100% all back to how it was when Mina was there.

Question 7: Do you still spend summers at Chautauqua Institution?

Answer: "Yes. I continue to spend every summer at Chautauqua Institution."

Question 8: What brings you back every year? What do you look forward to the most?

Answer: Ted shared all of the many tremendous opportunities that Chautauqua Institution offers every summer. The lectures. The culture. Theater performances. The Playhouse. Religious services.

Most of all Ted cherishes the strong friendships. "All of the amazing relationships that I have built over the years from a child at Chautauqua all the way through adulthood." He shared these wonderful relationships go back to the days of being a sailing counselor where he gained numerous friendships built with individuals from all over the world.

Question 9: How do you handle the role as a descendant of the founder of Chautauqua Institution? 

Answer: "Extremely humbling." Ted also shared that it is a responsibility that he strives to live up to.

Question 10: As a relative of Mina, what would you like for someone to know about her legacy?

Answer: Ted explained that Mina was extremely organized. She married Thomas Edison at the young age of 20. Upon marrying Thomas Edison, she immediately took on the role of a mother of Edison's three children. The oldest only 8 years younger than Mina herself. Mina became the "home executive" of the Edison estate. She managed six staff members that took care of the Edison home.

In addition, he was not a pushover.  Mina grew up in an extremely wealthy home. Her father, industrialist Lewis Miller created a vast fortune as an inventor and entrepreneur. Due to growing up with a famous father, the fame of Thomas Edison did not faze her. Furthermore, she embraced Edison's fame and made herself part of his business.

Full interview question:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ce6OEGxwSjY

In conclusion, we extend a HUGE thank you to Ted Arnn for taking the time out of his busy schedule to share these fun stories with us. We wish Ted continued success.

To learn more about Thomas Edison, check out the Thomas A. Edison Papers at Rutgers University.

Lastly, thank you for reading our Interview with Ted Arnn. As a U.S. manufacturer of electrical products since 1985, gaining a deeper understanding of the great entrepreneur Thomas Edison and his wonderful wife Mina Miller Edison was thrilling for our team.

[whatilooklikeeveryday-blog]

Today I look unsure

Everyday I slowly step up to the mirror to ask it what today’s look will be, today I did the same but now I also spend a whole lot of time doing the preparation work first before posing the question, lately I experience bad skin so now like all my sisters I also sit, polish and dab myself for a good amount of time just to control the break outs and black spots ( any woman’s nightmare!). On completion of which I then pose the question of what look shall I wear today? The answer was that of a girl with soul penatrating eyes who wore a sombre expression, I’ll take it although it’s not what I would’ve chosen on this particular day. I stepped out and drove home from this exhausting 24 hour cold winter shift. I will find her still in bed if I drive over 80 miles an hour, although she has company I will jump into her side. Traffic was okay seems like no one visits the beachside areas on chilly mornings, the drive along the coast is always bliss, our sea is gorgeous and the surrounding mountains make for a majestic backdrop. Even the sand dunes here are adorned by an evergreen coat of shrubs only foot pathways are single patchments of white sand with imprints of feet rushing down to splash into the ice cold atlantic ocean. I’m old enough to have met a whole lot of unpleasantries of this world. But none of them to this day have affected me as much as betrayal. This monster makes us forget how beautiful we are, it takes away our power by injecting it with fear nothing outdraws monstrosity from a woman than fear of abandonment. I’ve thus learnt that the only treatment for betrayal is acceptance, take all of it in and move on. I’m weak but I know that my strength and weakness are connected so I allow myself to be weak, I will indulge immensely on the subject of me, please allow me to be selfish and use the word I repeatedly and talk about me for what seems to be a while. I got home met our guests with kindness as any good host should. I jumped into bed with my woman. She had already mentioned that I should not go to church because I’m in need of some rest as I will work a full week from tomorrow because I’m sometimes self righteous I agreed. So we decided we will indulge in loose talk of no apparent order, naturally I listened mostly as they spoke about the events that took place the previous day at a party they attended, they then mentioned a prophetic ministry that sounded a bit incredulous, I suggested we go attend this church’s service. We prepared to go so all the fuss to look good took place, gosh we are so shallow! Her friend then mentioned something about their missing scarf as though it was a magic word I also mentioned how I miss my scarf that my girlfriend left at her house, she retaliated saying she wears no scarf it’s just an orange cheap scarf…Well I was baffled at first and thought that it can’t be happening already turns out I was too late as she completely shut down by the time I realised why she was far too gone into it. I followed her into the bathroom but by then she wanted nothing to do with me, her friend was there feeling awkward and the friend’s baby just wailed. I talked to her trying to bring the giant waves back to the shoreline but no I was shoved repeatedly I knew if I persisted I’d get hurt so I retreated back and admitted defeat. We attended to the baby until she was calm and attempted to feed her. Well we managed to quench that storm out. My girlfriend got jealous and dragged them out the door. I asked for her money saying it’s my change because I knew they were going to get a taxi with it she gave it to me cursing and all but they still left me there. Did I say betrayal is abandonment?! I tried not to feel anything instead of being overwhelmed I started praying about it fighting the spirit of defeat. I continued getting ready, a knock at the door… I guess they’re back before I got to the door the door was flung wide open and the broom beside the door was dragging the key from the floor to open the gate. I stood and watched I’m afraid of her, you may think I’m not but I really am afraid of her for one main reason lately she provokes me to hit her. It’s a vow I took a year ago that we shall never again ingage in physical problem solving. Its been over a year without physical violence between us. I want to keep it that way for as long as we are together. Her reasoning when she is angry is not too well and she is always pushing to do something when we argue llke pack up her bags and go, I decided I will always allow her to walk out whenever she feels like it and says she has had enough. This deeply saddens me it brings me too much sorrow in my heart. But I let her be and say my solemn goodbyes each time she leaves. Loving another this much is no good for either one of us. We have been together for two years now though the amount of ups and downs is over the brim we both know we’re drowning, the flood is reaching our throats now and we don’t know how much more we can take from each other. There is this wall that she pulls up each time she doesn’t like what I’m saying and mostly its because she jumps to conclusions and she is almost always way off. I’m frustrated by this behaviour I need it to change because we are running to a point of no return. I don’t want to be with no one else but that also doesn’t mean I should be this woman’s pushover. Is it a weakness this love I have for her or what? I have too many questions but I know this: I’ll be with no other person after this I’m not just broken and angry but I’m completely undone, if she were an object I’d take out the batteries and let her reboot a little each time she feels agitated. There are so many pressures in this life. I know she wants a child and stability but she is still finding herself, she carries a different way of life to mine. I plan and prepare a forecast for any idea I want to persue and follow up on a step by step procedure. She skips everything and demands immediately what she wants and guess what she gets it. The God we serve is indeed beyond amazing He provides you with your needs and wants regardless of these earthly procedures. The baby will be ours I’ll probably adopt her biological child so if the baby will be mine too I need to plan and prepare a few things okay I mean everything must be planned out right to the birth method. So I don’t just impulsively plunge into the deep end of such life changing matters head first period. The baby already has a name Nirvana, we would love a girl child. Well fine so I’m still getting my ducks into a row before we invite Nirvana on my side. On the other hand Miracle has no plans to wait any longer but at the same time she is not joining the party and earn a living to support Nirvana. She has an ex who drives a fancy german car who is willing to get her pregnant at anytime. Now I’m thinking she probably deserves to get what she wants anytime she wants it. How will that be as I feel torn apart infact I’m ragged when she leaves like when she did a second ago, I lose a part of me that connects my soul to body. The spaces open up in between my soul which seems to wonder off and return randomly as though it has a responsibility to ensure hers is doing alright before it could settle down