#but if someone who's applying for the same job with me has more work experience or whatever they will get hired over me no matter what i do

[theflyingfeeling]

yes it's just me whining about the same thing for the billionth time, pls just scroll past nothing new to see here 👋

[defnotsoju]

Can you add anal or petplay on your minju smut?😂

THE KITTEN IN MY HOTEL ROOM

ILLIT's MINJU × M! READER

There was nothing better than hanging out with friends at a club after a long work week. You were drinking to the max, dancing, making out with random women in the club who were selling themselves for a few hundred dollars. Your life as a student was one of the best experiences you ever had and you would never give it up if you could. But what could be better than student life in Seoul?

Having a prostitute in your hotel room waiting for you every night and ready to serve you with her body.

The moment you entered the hotel room, you noticed the brown haired girl sitting on the large bedroom wearing a very cute lingerie. Although it was cute, the way her breasts were pressed together, expressing the line of her bust really turned you on. Her hair was wavy, her thighs were completely exposed and the material over her breasts and pussy was so thin that you could see through them. You could swear this is the hottest sight you've ever seen.

When you stood in front of her, you spread her legs apart with your knee and grabbed her chin. You made her look at you, smiling mischievously at the way she was looking at you.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Someone's impatient, huh?" You laughed and started caressing her lower lip with your thumb, carefully inserting the same finger into her mouth. "Suck it." You ordered her.

The brunette began to suck your thumb, looking up at your eyes that hungrily gazed at her semi-naked body. "You're so hot like this. I don't think I could go without fucking you anymore. You know what to do." You pushed your finger deeper into her mouth, making her gag slightly. She listened to you and obediently turned around, settling on the mattress on her hands and knees.

You were glaring at her ass which was so pale that the slap on her soft ass left a red mark from your hand. You were constantly enjoying the way her body reacted to the slaps, which made you slap her ass several more times in a row. She just moaned desperately and her body twitched.

But you yourself were eager to fuck her. You could feel the heat hugging your cock after you had applied the lube on it. Your movements were more difficult at first precisely because of how such a tight hole Minju has. The sight was brutal. Her back was arched, her chest pushed out against the mattress, her ass lifted up against your body. The leash was tightened around your hand and you were making her neck arch back until you had lost all sense of what you were doing. You had begun to aggressively thrust your pelvis into her ass, loud slaps of your skin echoing through the hotel room. You could hear her breathing heavily, the bell around her neck ringing constantly.

"S..Sir.. please fuck me slower It h-hurts.." Minju tried to plead with you politely and respectfully, calling you names as if you were higher in the hierarchy than her, which you were. She was just a prostitute and nothing more. But that didn't stop you. It even gave you the motivation to bang her as if it was the last time in your life, making the girl scream loudly in the room. You decided to lean over her yourself, starting to moan against her ear, which you bit.

"Meow for me. Be my good obedient kitty. Isn't that why I pay you? Why don't you do your job like the slut you are? Do you want me to tell your boss what you're doing? If you don't want to get into trouble, listen to what I tell you and you will be rewarded in the end." You growled against her ear, grabbing her hair and starting to pull hard. You pressed her head into the mattress, enjoying the way she meowed for you.

"Fuck...! S..Sir ~ This is so g..good.. N..N..Nyangh ~" The girl was moaning and shaking, trying to somehow squeeze her thighs as if that would stop the feeling of being aggressively fucked like she was some kind of animal. "N..Nyanghhh ~ D..Don't stop fuckin' me like that! P..Please!"

The time passed imperceptibly, and you had already reached your orgasm. You came so much in her tight hole that your cum started to flow out of her anus. Minju looked back at you, expecting you to help her cum as well, but she was going to keep her hopes up because you had other plans for her. She was licking the back of her palm, rubbing it after that on her forehead and acting exactly like the kitty you wanted her to be for you.

Without saying anything you grabbed her leash again and made her walk like an animal on all fours to the small fridge in the corner of the room. You took out a bottle of milk from the fridge and took a deep bowl, placing it on the floor and crouched next to her body.

"This is your reward for the good girl you are for me. " You stroked her soft, long and thick hair and she looked at you smiling. As soon as you poured it into her bowl, you told her to start drink the 'milk' like a kitten, and she listened to you.

Minju bent down and licked the white liquid, widening her eyes and immediately pulled away. It was your sperm. You had made her drink your orgasm, which you had saved especially for this session.

It looked like she didn't want to drink your cum from the bowl, but you forced her down and shoved her face inside, Minju closing her eyes and squeezing her eyelids as she drank from the bowl. "Good girl." You spoke and grabbed her hair to keep it out of the way. "I want you to drink it all."

[rileyslibrary]

Hi, this might be a strange request, but could you please do some sort of character analysis, or maybe tell some of your headcanons for the 141 characters??

I’ve been trying to find some, but everything I find is either weirdly out of character or just some sort of weird projection onto the characters 😭

Not strange at all, anon! It just occurred to me that, for a blog dedicated to Ghost, I’ve never done something like this. Also, I understand what you mean, but it’s also important to remember that headcanons are extremely subjective. Maybe the same applies to my case, and someone also finds my headcanons out of character; who knows?

Please note that I can’t say much about the other boys since I’ve only focused on Ghost, so here are some of my headcanons (i.e. that’s how I personally imagine Ghost):

He’s your average, ordinary guy on the outside. Sure, he is stereotypically attractive (tall, beefy, with a deep voice), but so are a billion other people in this world. There’s nothing extraordinary about him, which is precisely what makes him so intriguing.

I like to imagine his personality similarly to how he wears his uniform—layer, under layer, under layer. You want to peel him like an onion; uncover what lies beneath the surface.

He’s extremely pragmatic and values function over form. It doesn’t matter if something looks bad/ugly/weird as long as it gets the job done. If it works, it works.

Moderation gives him a sense of discipline. He wants to control everything that’s within his ability to do so—managing what food he puts in his body, regulating his alcohol intake, handling finances, and even carefully choosing his words. It helps him maintain his sanity, knowing he has control over his life, especially considering what he went through.

He’s also incredibly efficient. He doesn’t waste time on things that aren’t important or beyond his control.

He’s not a gym rat (he doesn’t regard it as a second home), but he’s definitely a regular. The gym owners are familiar with him, though their interactions are brief—maybe they exchanged a few words to renew his membership in the past, but that’s about it.

He tends to stick to the free-weight section at the gym. If it’s crowded, he’ll put on his headphones to tune everything out, but if it’s quiet, he doesn’t bother. While he doesn’t use the machines often, he’ll turn to them occasionally, particularly when he needs more controlled movement.

Warming up before exercising is particularly important to him, and he takes his time to stretch afterwards, usually in an isolated corner of the gym. He never skips leg day.

He is not a flirt. Usually, it’s others who pursue him rather than the other way around. It’s almost like he has it too easy in that department. He doesn’t have to make much effort—he simply goes about his business (occasionally checking his surroundings for potential dangers,) and suddenly, people gravitate towards him. He’s not a fan of this attention but keeps it to himself.

He engages in a flirtatious exchange almost every day with the elderly lady who manages the convenience store in his neighbourhood, though. He often compliments her on her hair and how young she looks and sometimes jokes that if her late husband were still around, he’d have some competition. She, in return, offers him freebies, which he politely declines. However, he sometimes accepts these gestures in exchange for lending a hand with tasks around the store.

His apartment is modest since he travels a lot, yet he considers it his personal haven when he returns to it. He deliberately keeps it free of any traces of his alternate identity. There’s a family photo framed somewhere. Even his dad included. Maybe he considered cutting him out of the picture but decided against it. He wants to be reminded of both the positive and negative experiences that influence his decisions and actions.

He likes to make his own jokes. They mostly come to him when he does something mundane, like cooking, showering, or watching TV. He doesn’t take offence if others don’t laugh at his jokes, though. He simply views them as idiots or lacking a sense of humour.

He opts for public transport only when needed, like during heavy traffic, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. He keeps his back against the wall and doesn’t wear headphones since he wants to be aware of his surroundings.

He breaks fights if he stumbles upon them late at night and calls the police. When the officers arrive, he is the first to talk to them and usually scolds them for not getting there faster.

I don’t think he wears his mask when he’s out and about. In my mind, Simon Riley is different from Ghost. If someone manages to connect the dots, he’ll make sure it’s the last time they do so. For him, good people don’t know who Ghost is. Only bad people do.

He wants to extend his sleeve tattoo further up his arm but struggles to find the time to schedule an appointment with his tattoo artist. Yes, he has a trusted tattoo artist.

[fernsnailz]

Not sure how much meat this question has to it but if back in 2006 you were the one that spearheaded the shadow the hedgehog game, how would you have done it?

i'd want ShTH 2005 to keep the same core energy its final form ended up with, but tbh there's a lot i would have done differently lol. here's my 3 step plan for how i would have directed it previously/would direct any sort of reboot or remaster

1. TIMELOOP!!!!!!

i'm not the first person to come up with this idea and i won't be the last to talk about it, but the gist of this point is that ShTH's story makes WAY more sense when you treat it like a timeloop. you finished a story path and end up back in westopolis? great job, you're at the beginning of the timeloop again. it's a smart way to make this wack story a little more cohesive.

i would LOVE to further utilize the timeloop concept for this game because it could be a very simple addition to add flavor OR it be the core of the game's story and gameplay. small things like shadow going "hey wait, have i seen this before?" when he's going through westopolis for the third time can hint at the narrative, and once shadow realizes he's in a loop he's motivated to find EVERY path in search of the full truth. every new story path could be treated as a new game+ as shadow starts to consistently remember more from previous timeloops, carrying over certain weapons, abilities, and memories from his previous experiences.

one really cool idea i saw a while ago on here (edit: FOUND IT! i'm talking about this post) is someone's ShTH timeloop pitch where after a few resets, silver starts to show up and tells shadow to stop messing with the timeline. this continues, and eventually silver becomes a final boss of some of the paths. this idea has never left my mind since i saw it and i need to find the person that came up with it they mean so much to me

i have more timeloop thoughts but i will move on for now

2. simplify or rework the morality system and levels

this is my big gameplay critique - there is A Lot to do in ShTH and very little of it is consistently fun. i have grievances with the morality system i talked about a while ago, the gist of my opinion boiling down to "the system removes agency from shadow and the story doesn't fit within the morals you choose anyway." i'd either MASSIVELY rework the morality system to make it feel worthwhile or just throw the whole thing away. unfortunately i don't have many pitches for what to replace it with since i haven't played that many games with branching stories - maybe the story paths you go down are based on BIG story decisions shadow makes during boss battles or in cutscenes (?) like choosing which boss to fight, which characters to save, what moves or weapons to use, stuff like that. i just want the stuff that leads to branching stories to be more impactful and a little simpler.

this also applies to the levels, of which there are... a lot. and maybe there should be less? i think it would be smart to cut down or combine some of the levels, then really flesh out the ones that matter. and given the non-linear nature of ShTH, i think a version with levels more focused on exploration and combat would fit the game better than the linear mission-based gameplay of the original.

3. MORE GUN

listen man. they advertised this as the sonic game with guns and in my opinion i think they could've done better. i mostly just want a more fleshed out weapons system with upgrades, a little customization, better controls, etc. just put the merchant from resident evil 4 in there and have him accept rings and i would be happy

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

those are the big points i would personally stick to, but i do have smaller points i would consider as well, including:

make black doom seem competent

explain who the chaotix are working for and fit it into the story

no more "kill this many enemies to progress" missions. please

super shadow can have a gun now

[see-arcane]

I figured I should interrupt everyone's dash for some notes on current real life things.

This is a hefty one, so I'm tucking everything below:

A little good news. As of this writing, I’ve sold 74 copies of The Vampyres, in eBook and paperback! That’s 74 more than I thought I would ever sell! Thank you to everyone who picked up a copy or asked your library to grab some. Especially when I know I haven’t been the most stellar self-marketer. I can’t remember the last time I opened the septic tank formerly known as Twitter, so it’s all been down to this little corner here and a skinny appearance in Goodreads. Which means I owe any attention this short and sinister tale has received to you all and plain old word-of-mouth.

That said, thank you x100000 to you and any new readers yet to take a look. (And doubly so for those of you who go out of their way to leave comments and reviews around for me to reread ad infinitum.)

For those not in the know, all the info on The Vampyres can be found here, and all my author odds and ends can be found on my website here.

On a less heartening note…

As I’d already expected, the market for career writers is…rough. Copywriting—and writing in general—is technically a big open field (full of caveat descriptions about having to work with/teach AI programs to eventually swallow your job)! Tons of open positions! Most of which either pay you in pocket change while you’re working full time or expect you to singlehandedly run the entire marketing of a business for slightly more pocket change. Everything else is bloated with contract and/or freelance work*.

*Read: Gig economy schlock trying to pass for an actual job position with payment being a coin toss. I’ve also seen one too many listings on the job boards that are volunteer positions. Plenty of exposure to rake in though, right? Ha. Ha ha.

I’ve still been applying like clockwork, same as the rest of my fellow creators trying to get by in a field that seems to actively punish trying to be a professional in said field, and still no bites further than an interview. I have years of experience and a degree, but everyone’s chasing the same crumbs, so. Yeah. I’ve got to start padding things out.

Reminder that I do have a (barely peddled) Ko-Fi. It’s there for art commissions and chucking a few spare bucks at. Which is an increasingly big ask these days, I know. You can’t scroll two posts down without hitting someone else’s Ko-Fi, Patreon, GoFundMe, Kickstarter, et cetera. We’re drowning in arting starvists here. And although I have been asked before whether I would consider going full Freelance Storywriter on top of selling art, I’m still a little hesitant on it. I do occasionally send out story submissions and have even gotten published a few times, but I get nauseous thinking about:

1) Putting up a paywall on the scribbles that assail me like a baseball bat wielded by an unmerciful Muse. 2) Putting up a ‘Stories for Sale!’ sign only to wind up disappointing prospective buyers because I didn’t do their blorbos justice even after researching X background for the piece. 3) Getting duped into being a nonconsenting ghostwriter and discovering someone else has published my work under their own name.

So, still a bit iffy on that. I’ll chew on it. But what else is left?

Before you click the button!

Stop!

NOT YET!

Before you click, please know that I am being serious about this as something to potentially make 1) something of good quality and 2) earn more money than it loses. Looking around at the merch-making/selling options, there are fees involved with making an account just about anywhere in the online store game, give or take the price tweaking needed for shipping and manufacturing blah blah blah.

With that in mind, please do not automatically hit ‘yes’ because you want to be nice. I appreciate it, but this isn’t the same thing as the Ko-Fi where there’s no real loss in just leaving it up and drawing something once every few months. This will take new designs, another subscription to pay for, more logistics to untangle for quality and pricing and all the rest of the mess. Only hit ‘yes’ if you, personally, genuinely, would like to purchase some nefarious See Arcane wares beyond a book or a digital drawing.

[itgomyway]

(you)r sp and you ♡

i have already made a post about how you should love yourself and your sp will love you almost as much (bc they actually are you!) but lets go into more detail

a lot of you guys, including me, wanted to get into a relationship. and with that, youve discovered the law of assumption. the basics start off with whatever you assume will be. but after months of arguing, harassment, and bullying on twitter, you’re probably confused and too scared to ask.

FUCK THAT. let me be the one to tell you that none of it matters. you very much can and WILL manifest your sp. others false opinions (false because theyre not real) mean nothing. this isnt a loass post though im talking about non dualism (which is not the same).

“but wait… i want my sp and non dualism isnt about getting so why would i-“ because your sp shouldnt be someone that brings you happiness. they should be someone who adds to your quality of life. why does that sound like loass vs non dualism? because it is.

people use the law of assumption to manifest desires for their physical world. theres nothing wrong with that! that is how i manifested my current relationship. however, when we speak about non dualism, it goes beyond trying to get anything. youre just being. and “getting” into a relationship can very much help or make your false sense of self feel better. you as consciousness know relationships themselves dont exist because it is you but your ego, the false sense of self doesnt know that. it wants to experience love as part of the human condition. but youre still not getting anything. lemme explain.

you were trying to “get” something that was never outside of you TO make you happy. that doesnt make sense when not only are they you, but they are apart of you. everything your awareness is on “reflects” how you feel about yourself because all there is is you.

lets go back to non dualism’s basics. everything is consciousness = you creation is brought on by your awareness = you. “but back when x happened-“ the past and the future do not exist. the only thing that exist is now. you cant “apply” this way of thinking to something that doesnt exist. that makes no sense. youre just going to confuse yourself. i am telling you RIGHT NOW the only truly real thing is YOU. that is all there is and will ever be. you can control your awareness through observations meaning youre in total control. read that again.

so when it comes to your sp, romantic or not, they are never not yours. they were never not you or not a part of you. every thought, feeling, affirmation, or word you wrote down, they have received. because its you. think about it. are you ever aware of anything youre unaware of? (no). because things only exist the moment youre aware of them!

and remember, if something can come to our awareness like a relationship and leave our awareness it is not real. but you, as consciousness are infinite and are always here and always consciousness. so you are real!

after discovering non dualism i have thought about the feelings my boyfriend has presented to me and how they currently match the feelings i have for myself. i have always loved myself and will always love myself. if i didnt, how could i expect my creation, which is a projection of my own self image, to have different feelings than me? your sp isnt a separate person. Your relationships will always show how you feel about yourself, romantic or platonic. they’re not real because they come and go through your awareness but your ego as the false self believes they are. and thats okay. thats its job. let it be and observe them as consciousness.

nothing can happen outside of your awareness because the moment you are aware/conscious of something, it exist instantly. so if your sp is treating you the way you dont want to be treated then reflect on your own feelings about yourself. this DOES NOT necessarily mean work on your self concept. ask yourself if “you” think youre worthy of what it is your ego desires. a lot of my blockage came from that. i had to fall in love with myself so my ego could comprehend how i could be loved. because its still me.

lets talk about “free will”.

“free will” doesn’t exist. lemme tell you why. the idea of free will is a person outside of you having a say in their own life. the basic principle of non dualism means theres only one being, consciousness (you). so tell me how can “another person” “outside” of you have a say in their “own lives” when none of that exist in the first place?

your sp having or not having free will shouldn’t effect how you feel about them unless you see them as a separate entity outside of you. they’re not an “object” you control theyre your creation and another form of consciousness so of course you have control over your creations you have control over EVERYTHING.

your sp feels the same way you feel about yourself. always. if you dont feel good about yourself then i do suggest working on your self concept. not to “get” anything but for YOURSELF! why not love yourself? why cart that responsibility off to your creation?

at the end of the day, itll just be you surrounded by your creations. you can pick and choose what they are specifically BUT THE ONLY REAL THING IS YOU

© itgomyway

[astermath]

hi! i'd like to ask a one shot on carmen berzatto in which the reader is an italian girl her early/mid 20s who works as a waiter at the bear and is sydney's best friend. her and carmen meet through her and they start secretly dating. the rest is up to you

thank you <3

hi!! I simplified your request a little,, it's more like a blurb / headcanon thing than a oneshot because I'm working on a long chapter for my nemesis series rn lol, hope that's okay!! thank you for the request angel! ♡

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

tags: sydney being a matchmaker somehow, not so secret relationship, exactly what it says in the ask lol, normal size font below!

wc: 0.9K

let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!

+ when it comes to hiring waiters, carmen just wants someone who's experienced. someone who knows what they're doing and who can do it well. and quickly. this restaurant has to work, has to make everyone proud, and the staff has to reflect that.

+ sydney instantly thought of you as a reference. you'd worked at your family restaurant back in italy, and when you moved to chicago, had continued said occupation to support yourself in various restaurants. though none were as nice as "the bear".

+ so when your friend had called you up for an interview for a brand new restaurant with one of the most promising chefs of the country, of course you took the offer.

+ though carmen knew most waiters were usually... presentable, he didn't quite imagine you to be this fucking pretty when you showed up for the interview. he almost forgot every question he was meaning to ask when you walked through that door, all bubbly excitement and feminine flair.

+ he loved hearing you talk about your life in italy before moving to the states, your experiences working in the service industry, your passion for food and people... he almost forgot he was supposed to be conducting an interview at all, he just adored hearing you talk so much.

+ and sydney noticed too. she noticed the way he had such an easy time conversing with you, which is odd behavior for him, to say the least. she was just glad the two of you were getting along, and her friend had a chance of getting hired.

+ and of course you were hired. not only was carmy already hooked on you, but so was most of the other staff. your bright personality and quick witted comments were nice and refreshing when things got a little too stressful. plus, you worked fast and efficiently; what more could they ask for?

+ carmen’s interest in you remained. he knew it was a little wrong, since technically, yes, he is your boss. which is why he was a bit reluctant to do anything at first.

+ you were making all the first moves. giving him meaningful glances during quiet moments, helping him out with things that didn’t apply to your job position, staying later to help him close up and clean. even if it meant you’d be tired as all hell by the time you were home, at least you were spending time with him. to you, it was more than worth it.

+ and he seemed to think the same. carmen never thought the closing shift could be as fun as it was when you were there. these days he was almost fighting richie for it, claiming that it was more fitting for him anyways since it was his place after all.

+ late night shifts turned into walking you home. walking you home turned into hanging out at your apartment for a glass of wine. a glass of wine turned into kissing on the couch. kissing on the couch turned into staying the night… you’d fallen into a routine with him so easily, sometimes you forgot there was a time before carmen was in your life. it just felt so… natural. like it was always supposed to be like this.

+ and though you really liked carmen, you didn’t want to jeopardize your position at the restaurant. you’d finally found a stable, well paying job, it would be a shame if you lost it over a relationship with your superior. though sometimes, you wondered if it would be worth it. to risk it for carmen.

+ carmen agreed, and so the two of you continued to keep your relationship under wraps for the time being. it was for the better, and besides, it’s not like he talked much about his personal life to his colleagues either. well, except for sydney.

+ and boy did she have her suspicions. of course she’d find out eventually, she’s a very smart and observant person. she can figure out carmen so easily, so she’s definitely not oblivious to the sneaking glances and hidden smiles, or the way he always manages to stay behind with you at the restaurant. not even the hickey you tried so desperately to cover up with makeup slips past her radar.

+ but she doesn’t say anything, at least not for a while. she lets the two of you live out your little secret relationship, believing she doesn’t know, until she accidentally slips up about it.

+ you’re complaining about the noise in your apartment and your lack of sleep because of it, clearly frustrated, when sydney asks “why don’t you just sleep over at carmen’s again then?”

+ she doesn’t realise she’d revealed that she’s known all along, until you look at her like you just saw a ghost. you’re about to defend yourself and come up with some excuse, when behind your friend, you can see carmen standing at the bar, smiling to himself as he cleans the counter.

+ it brings you comfort to know that apparently, he doesn’t mind anyone knowing. the secrecy was more for you than for him if anything. you’re not his little secret, not at all, and that became very clear when he’d start talking sydney's ear off about you after. though she does find it annoying, she’s glad two very important people in her life have found each other and are making it work.

+ plus, it’s nice that you two always cover the closing shift.

+ though she has her doubts about what you two are actually up to alone in the restaurant past closing time.

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar  @spr3id  @deadandstill  @777iii  @magicboytrash  @wiipes @sierrahhh  @crayzmarvelfan800 @azxulaa  @astridyoo15   @rexorangecouny  @azxulaa @jointherebellion215  @wolfiealina @dogdevourer 

[donnerpartyofone]

The little pink brain surrounded by stars and flowers at the end of my computer search bar tells me that it is World Brain Health Day, which is insane but maybe that's appropriate. This was a great year to get my ADHD diagnosis and prescription considering the Very Complicated Things that are happening (mostly fine, just A LOT). I have also become aware that the dose of medical meth that I'm on is helping to manage my severe chronic depression, which is pretty awesome since I have tried what feels like "everything" and nothing really works without some gruesome side effect. The main side effect in this case turns up because I'm working a (roughly) 4 days on, 3 days off schedule as recommended by my doctor to avoid building up a tolerance, and I have begun to notice that on the 2nd-or-so day off I have a bit of a snap-back effect that plunges me into a pit of infinite darkness. It helps to remember that when unmedicated I am OFTEN plunging into a pit of infinite darkness, so this is essentially normal. The most positive version of being unmedicated is that I'm at least "pretty depressed" most of the time, and probably not getting as much done, just schlorping around in a general malaise. Just the getting things done is good for my self-esteem anyway. Work helps too, oddly; when I am completely consumed by a big urgent project, it is hard to find the time and energy to fantasize about being dead. Of course obsessive work causes other kinds of wear and tear, but their negativity is less immediately obvious.

Today I am doing the Extremely Complicated training process to write for this pop culture website you have probably heard of. When I was picked to do this I thought, "This is probably too much work for not enough money," and now I'm realizing that it is actually WAY too much work for not NEARLY enough money. But it's good for someone like me while I still don't have a real job, so I'm coping with this ordeal of doing the online training, thinking I'm done, doing my first assignment, realizing there was way more of the online training but I just didn't click the right button or something, revising my assignment, submitting it, realizing there's still MORE stuff I should have fixed and racing through the assignment making little changes and clicking Save after every single one of them never knowing when somebody's is going to start evaluating it, and just praying for death the best. Then at the same time I heard back from an event organizer who totally refused to communicate with me for the last two months so I just cancelled on them like two weeks ago, and now they're telling me they're so sorry and can we please do the event, and I have to have an annoying back-and-forth with the tricky third party this is dependent on, and do all this other stuff I'm suddenly too tired to describe. And THEN AT THE SAME TIME AS THAT I got invited to write more writing for the super awesome company that sometimes publishes me, also for not enough money on the hour but they're apologetic about that and the writing matters to me (and so does the company). And this is all great but my stomach has turned into a rock and my back muscles are fossilizing and I'm in breathe-on-purpose mode and I'm regretting how much coffee I drank and I wish I could calm down with a beer or even a joint or something, but the beer will actually increase my meth uptake and the joint will add to my anxiety in this state, and so I just have to grind my teeth through this until the day is done. I wish I could play for you guys the earsplitting power tool sound from right next door that has been echoing through the neighborhood since 8 o'clock this morning, just as like the OST to this whole experience, but you'll just have to imagine it! I also meant to apply for Real Jobs today, but now it seems clear that that's not going to happen until tomorrow. The End...FOR NOW.

[magicalgirlmascot]

I am curious: What are your current thoughts about the Toa Inika's drivining situation when they become Toa Inika?

Hahahaha I am SO glad you have asked me this because I have Thoughts

Terminology for non-Canadians (and/or Ontarians, idk what other provinces call things):

G1 - learner's permit, obtainable at 16, written test only, must have someone in the passenger seat who has had their full license at least 4 years, can't drive between midnight and 5am, can't go on certain high speed highways (401, QEW, etc) unless the person in the passenger seat is an accredited driver's ed instructor, must pass G2 exit test within 5 years or restart process

G2 - must have had a G1 for either a) 1 year or b) 8 months if graduated from driver's ed, practical exam, can drive alone, on any roads, at any time of day, certain other restrictions apply (esp if under age 19), must pass G exit test within 5 years or start over

G - must have had G2 for at least a year, practical exam, no restrictions except for basic road laws lol

MTO - Ministry of Transportation of Ontario, basically the DMV but for Ontario

OKAY SO ALL THAT SAID:

Jaller: got his G1 the day after he turned 16 because his birthday was on a Sunday and the MTO was closed. Took the driver's ed course affiliated with his school that same year. Just got his G2. Has to beg and plead to borrow a car because both his parents work and need vehicles for that, and he can bike to work from the house.

Hahli: has been driving farm vehicles illegally for several years. Has her G1 but isn't eligible for her G2 yet. Is learning how to drive from her uncle because he's the only person in her family who respects road safety laws. Can occasionally convince her parents to loan her the truck if she fills up the tank.

Kongu: got his G2 a couple months ago. Inherited his grandparents' junker. Mostly just drives himself and Tamaru to school and back. Grumbles about being his sister's taxi service but also uses this as an excuse to hang around in town.

Nuparu: almost eligible for his G2 but not quite. Took driver's ed exclusively to lower his insurance premium. The only Inika who knows how to drive stick. Wants to get a motorcycle license too. Does all his family's car maintenance in exchange for money being put into the "Nuparu Gets His Own Car" fund.

Hewkii: can't drive. Wants to move to a big city with good public transport so he never has to learn how.

Matoro: was forced to get his G1 against his will and avoids driving like the plague. Sometimes his parents make him drive to the store or something for practice and he hates it. Wants to move out to the woods so he never has to drive again.

Takua: had to learn to drive so they could take on more cleaning jobs. Is actually almost eligible for their full G license. Has the most experience driving because their mom would make them drive between jobs for practice when they had their G1. Is not allowed to cover their mom's company car with bumper stickers to their immense dismay, and also isn't allowed to borrow it for non-work reasons if it's not an emergency.

[mantisgodsart]

First batch of @bug-oc bugs. This would've gotten finished sooner, but we've been sick as a dog for most of the tournament's runtime, so we're calling it a victory that we managed to get anything done - there are a lot fewer contestants this year, which means both less art to do and more ability to commit to trying to make some particularly unique creature designs - there are some in this batch that we REALLY want to do justice, and that is... unfortunately hard to do when we're barely functioning for two hours a day. This is our unofficial call to STAY HOME when you're sick! Even if you're feeling sturdy enough to go out and about, your actions can impact those around you very easily.

Design notes and owners below the cut with individual pictures - the middle one here is a beta design that we're still in the process of ironing out, so that one just has

[This is the first time I've met someone who "worked in Snakemouth" since that one... weird encounter, with those roaches giving me a job offer. I didn't know that they had a security guard position. I... didn't know that they knew what a security guard even is, honestly. To have two bugs involved with the lab turn up is an incredible coincidence. I wonder if the time portal is actually open again, or if different universes just work on different timeframes?

Regardless, it's a good opportunity to advance my knowledge of partial transmutation and multi-organism transmutation. Whatever happened to that moth in the last tournament... my understanding of how to handle both symbiotes and parasitism is clearly incomplete, if running into multiple organisms can cause problems like that. I'll have to put some extra work into monitoring...]

Omelette from @tangleslime2 was one that felt... obvious, we suppose?Your work will one day consume you, and such - one way or another! More literal in this case. A lot of the work here, honestly, is toying with shapes and body language. Omelette has a LOVELY sillhouette with some extremely identifiable clothes, and translating it to a zombee design was Very fun. Maybe a bit plain on the design side, but the linework was incredibly fun to do - we got to do a whole lot of fur, which is always a fun time. This design was very quick and easy, as designs go, and we had a lot of fun doing the hat. Wildly askew, and held on by but a single antennae!

Sundew and Nerine from @mizzle-moths are untransmuted, as requested - Sundew's pose was very fun to do - nice and fluid, though the wing markings were admittedly a bit funky to parse. We hope we got all the details correct here! Both of your bugs have gorgeous color palettes. Our usual marker set's dark gray marker's dried out by now, so we had to use an alternative, which... unfortunately bled clean through our sketchbook page. Lesson learned, we suppose. The scribble over the eyes used the same pen that we did our linework with - the "scribbling over the eyes of a dead character" trope is very well-worn, but cliche only becomes cliche because it inspires enough people to follow in the footsteps of a story, and we're very fond of the way it adds to the... hmm, visual language? We just think it's neat. Hope you enjoy!

[...working with spirits and more immaterial forms isn't my area of expertise, but it's something i dearly need experience in. My hope is that by advancing my knowledge in this field, I might be able to apply the knowledge to other fields that evade me - anything inanimate has proven to be my bane, and I'm fairly certain that a few of my attempts into this area have produced "hauntings", when they're not producing incredibly specialized organisms. Maybe if I know how to cause a haunting, I can figure out how to not cause one...?]

Moving on to our beta design - that is a VERY rough draft of Beera from @longeth-dayv. Given by the obvious Luigi's Mansion inspiration, we wanted to run with it by pulling our inspiration more directly from a Luigi's Mansion enemy - mostly, this meant tinkering with sillhouettes while trying to figure out what sort of design would match best to the character, and how to translate a design to something recognizable.

The pack, despite its significance character-wise, doesn't have quite as much weight in the balance of the design, which meant more tweaking for the transformation - though we briefly tried toying with the pack itself for this design, that particular page we felt would skew a bit too close to body horror for your personal comfort, so we scrapped the idea. Better safe than sorry, as they say. As such, we're aiming more towards using wire and body language to drive recognition.

The image here is a loose draft based on the bats enemy, used to test the fade and layering of the highlighter we were using - as it turns out, it doesn't layer very well! We started out looking for electric enemies, but we only really turned up the Electric Oozer, and that... was a bit too close to "normal boo" for our personal tastes, so we swapped to just primarily yellow enemies. Though we were previously considering taking the bat design to final draft, actually putting it out on paper convinced us to the contrary, so we went back to the... sketchboard. We'd bet there's a good chance you can already figure out where we're going with this one. A fun design challenge, for sure!

Finally (at least for this particular evening), we offer you this: a look behind the scenes, (or at least, the scenes that don't involve "us being sick and struggling to communicate whether or not something is sorted with the other mod"). What we've been using to keep track of matches, as well as to draw lots. Not precisely a high-tech solution, but damn if it doesn't work - the ends here are split into two for the sake of a loser's bracket, which we... thought we had figured out, but then it turned out we've been having miscommunications on what the bracket setups even are, and, well...

...we're working on it, we'll say. It might still be integrated, but that'll have to wait 'til trying to do things doesn't require fighting for our life. We will probably rerandomize the brackets for it, we might use it for illustration practice if the contestants are cool with it, so on and so forth. As always, thank you for your patience - we hope that Round 2 encounters slightly less hitchups compared to Round 1.

[mllemaenad]

The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

Okay, well, it sounds very much as though "Freddy" is tattling on Sam. Might not be, of course: once you've assigned a personality to something you head straight down the path of attributing meaning and motive to all its actions. And in the case of Freddy, there might be no intelligence behind it, one intelligence with many voices behind it, or many intelligences with potentially competing motives behind it. Depending on which of those it is, you get a different picture of why it does what it does.

It alerts Alice that Sam has been poking around "The Magnus Protocol". It shouldn't have alerted Alice; it sounds as though Colin was the intended recipient, although it would make sense for it to go to Lena as well. It suggests that it did not want official action taken against him for looking – whatever that might mean – but that it did want someone to know what he was doing.

It's fairly easy to predict that Alice, upon receiving such an alert, will tell Sam to knock it off but not actually take any action against him. The recording Gwen hears at the end of the episode suggests (although does not confirm) that things can in fact go very, very wrong in this job – so this may constitute a protective gesture. On the other hand, if the greatest risk were to just be getting fired, well then that might be for the best.

It's a weird alert, though.

Alice I just received a security notification. Sam About me? Alice Someone was trying to access restricted files. And my money is on you. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

What do you mean, "someone" is trying to access restricted files? No user ID? Or username? Or even a device ID? What the hell sort of security alert is that? If you were a manager, and you received that, you'd have to go on a witch hunt. Depending on how you look at it, it's either a terrible alert tailored to produce a stressful working experience ... or a whisper that might be meaningful to Alice, and no one else.

The arrival of the third voice, "Augustus" is interesting because he is a complete unknown. To be clear, I'm aware that the prevailing theory is that this is Jonah Magnus. I'm not especially here to dispute that; not at the moment. The man's first name starts with a "J", which fits nicely with ".jmj error" and, well, the name Magnus is right there in the title, which suggests it's at least to some degree relevant. It's as good a theory as any, and while you can absolutely throw out other possible names there's not enough detail yet to prove anything.

But what is interesting is the implication if that is Jonah Magnus. If the voices originated in this world then they might be anybody, of course. No way to tell. But if they came from another world, it suggests that something more than just voices came through. Because, to my knowledge, that voice was never recorded.

It makes sense that you'd hear John's voice leaking between worlds – he's on virtually all the tapes. It makes reasonable sense that you'd hear Martin's: he was on quite a lot. You might also expect "Elias Bouchard", or Basira or Tim or even Gertrude – because if it's just voices then whether they're alive or dead or even confirmed still hanging about in another dimension shouldn't matter. But if it is Magnus, then something came through that wasn't recorded: the voice of an earlier body, or even his original one. Some internal sense of "this is how I sound" that differs from anything recorded on the tapes.

And if it isn't him? Well, all of the above still applies, with the added question of "Who is it, then?"

If it is him – and I will speak as such for now because there's not yet enough thread to follow if it isn't – then his story choice is interesting.

Alice Dear grandpa Augustus does always tell such lovely stories. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

Alice implies that Augustus's stories are somehow worse than Norris's and Chester's – she didn't remark on any of theirs in quite the same way, except to call Norris's first one "tame". I don't know what metric she's using: they all seem pretty ghoulish. But this story does address a different perspective.

It's a tale of resentment and entitlement. Of someone who was special, but not quite special enough for his own liking – and who fed his soul to something monstrous to increase his own standing. His father seems to have a seat in the House of Lords, and all the wealth and standing that would accompany that position. The letter writer, however, is a bastard: an acknowledged bastard, apparently, whose father has provided for him, but nevertheless a bastard set apart from the legitimate children of the household.

He's also very concerned that people aren't appreciating his talents.

Augustus/Violinist My violin tutor, one Oliver Bardwell by name, nursed a conviction that this honor was purely the fruit of his own skills as an instructor, rather than a product of my talent and endeavor. ... My course was set for Mannheim, a destination where I felt a youthful certainty that my brilliance would at last be acknowledged. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

This fits very well with Jonah Magnus, who very much played second fiddle, so to speak, in the story that had his name on it. On a meta level: he was the villain of the piece, the one who pretty well had to fall and fail in order for the narrative to reach its conclusion. But even in-universe it's highlighted that he's just ... not that special:

Archivist Right. When I said that I would ‘replace’ Jonah in there, that’s not– That place, the centre of The Eye, i-it’s… It wasn’t made for him. That’s why he’s like that, it’s too much, it’s overwhelmed him, his whole being, just destroyed. Martin Oh yeah? But let me guess, it was made for you? Archivist Yes. – The Magnus Archives: Parting

It's got to be galling: Magnus built an institute and served his god for literal centuries, and eventually remade the world under its power. But does the Eye want him? No, no it does not. It wants the grumpy archivist who does not want to be here at all, and who is in fact actively plotting to kill it. Jonah Magnus is the Eye's acknowledged, but displaced, bastard son.

It's also implied that a sense of ... hm ... aristocratic entitlement, let's say, played a part in the selection of his hosts:

Archivist Elias’ stomach tightened at the memory, the fierce judgement in his father’s eyes. Even laid out in a casket, it was as if he had looked at Elias with disdain. What should he say? That he had no idea why he wanted this job? That he was all alone in the world, no friends, no family, nothing but the deep certainty that he deserved better. That he was destined to be important. That it was in his blood. – The Magnus Archives: A Stern Look

And it is hard not to notice, at this point, that Augustus picked Gwen to hear this tale.

The violinist is "gifted" an instrument by a dubious merchant type reminiscent of Mikaele Salesa (the man was right – the peddler of magical artefacts is indeed a folktale staple), and it did make him a bit more special ... but never, ever quite special enough:

Augustus/Violinist And yet, while admiration rained down upon me, never was I elevated beyond the confines of my origins. The rarefied world of my noble patrons was closed to me. Modest riches adorned me, some small fame clung to my name, but never was I truly allowed to escape the position of my birth. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

It is also very much the story of a man who learned how to hurt other people for his own gain:

Augustus/Violinist It was not simple philanthropy that led to my taking on positions of tutelage in those bustling cities where I plied my trade, providing a musical education to the poor and the easily forgotten, asking nothing in return. Nothing except the occasional student who would not be missed. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

That's almost exactly how Magnus operated: employing people who would not be missed and then using them up to serve his own ends. Like Magnus, the violinist feeds people to his malevolent god.

And, not least, there are the sinister implications of the letter itself. The recipient is a "nephew", meaning he is almost certainly the child of one of the violinist's legitimate half-siblings: people he dismisses as "useless". He was not close with the nephew, so his inheritance may be something of a surprise.

Which leads to this:

Augustus/Violinist There has been a great deal of rain here this last fortnight, which has been strangely pleasing to my maudlin mood, and has brought with it some nostalgia for that dreary summer you took residence with me. I flatter myself to think that I might have imprinted upon you some part of myself in that time together, and perhaps in this way I seek to keep hold of my prized violin still. – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

Right. So, yeah, the kid is definitely screwed. For all we know, the violinist lives still.

If Norris's stories are of loss and regret, and Chester's could be called a warning, Augustus's is both an enticement and a trap.

Go on. Play the cursed violin. Feed it blood. What could possibly go wrong?

But you have to wonder, then: why would Magnus tell a story that so neatly reflects what an awful person he was?

We also establish, outside the main story, that Gwen is definitely the kind of person to open weird attachments in her work email. When the OIAR gets hit with a ransomware attack, we'll all know who to blame.

It's hard to state anything definitive about what she heard. I mean – yes, it sounds bad, but, well, Gertrude Robinson once dismembered a man and threw him down a cursed pit. I'm not going to sit here and try to claim Gertrude was nice, but she was very much on the side of the world not ending. What any of this means all hinges on who the guy Lena was talking to was.

And, of course, this one is littered with world-building notes to put aside for later: "Starkwall", "The San Pedro Square Massacre", "The Protocol". Little you can do with any of them immediately.

But ... just for a thought exercise, say it is Jonah Magnus talking.

A protocol can be a lot of things. It may be rules to be followed in a formal occasion. It may be instructions in the event of an emergency. And there are also network protocols, which are about the transfer of information. I suspect in this case it has a double meaning, as Archives did. So it is something practical ... and also something else.

The word is then uttered for the first time in the episode where Magnus first speaks. It is immediately followed by a tale in which a man transfers an instrument – and I think more importantly the music that instrument produced – to someone new, and in doing so hopes to transfer some or all of himself.

The thing is. I'm not going to call Magnus's master plan "bloody stupid" but ... well, let's just say it had some obvious holes. I mean, really. He spent literal years specifically torturing this one guy, then used him very much against his will to end the world, and then just ... let him wander around, being annoyed about that. Obviously John had some moral qualms about the whole apocalypse situation, but even had he not – pretty well anybody would probably put "ruin Jonah's day" quite near the top of their to do list, under the circumstances.

It would hardly take a genius to foresee some retaliation. And self preservation is Magnus's whole deal. It's the reason he gives for destroying the world:

Archivist/Jonah Magnus I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world. At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment soon became a race. Beyond that, I was getting older, and mortality began to weigh more heavily on my mind. How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror? – The Magnus Archives: The Eye Opens

The apocalypse is just him getting everyone else before they could get him. And I have wondered, a bit, about Magnus's attitude in Last Words:

Archivist It’s over. Jonah/Elias Is it? [sigh] Yes. Yes, I suppose it must be. [TIRED EXHALATION] Where’s Martin? I rather thought he’d be the one to do the deed. … [METALLIC CLINK] Ah, I see. Going it alone, are we? Probably for the best. Empathy only holds you back in the end. Archivist You’ve failed. Jonah/Elias Have I? Archivist Immortality. It’s impossible. Even without me, nothing escapes entropy. Not forever. Not even fear. Jonah/Elias Yes… Pity. I suppose I always knew that, deep down. But it was wonderful while it lasted. I’ve seen more than I could have lived in a thousand lifetimes, and every moment was so – – The Magnus Archives: Last Words

That's all very odd, really. He thought Martin would kill him? In fact, he once bet quite heavily that Martin would not kill him. Of course, he hadn't ruined the whole world at that point, which is a thing that might well adjust a man's attitude to murder. So he thought Martin would come here, and kill him?

He was not especially surprised to see John standing over him with a knife. He seemed mostly bemused at the idea that he had failed, although he did agree that this thing, in which he bathed in the misery of others, was indeed over. There was some begging and screaming, of course, but he put up very little resistance – even though this was a straightforward physical assault. None of John's overwhelming psychic powers here, just a man who never showed much inclination toward violence taking his very first stab, so to speak, at knifing someone to death.

It seems peculiar, that a man who would do literally anything to stay alive – who betrayed his friends, who stole the lives of others, who doomed the whole world – would not have a plan in place to escape the very obvious enemy who was almost certainly going to come after him.

Unless, of course, he did have a plan. And we're listening to it.

[olderthannetfic]

A lot of people in your inbox are doing the thing from that Tumblr post about how way too many people only think of feminism discussions in terms of the Most Oppressed Man and Least Oppressed Woman. Y'all really need to stop comparing marginalized men to white cis straight female CEOs, and instead compare them to women who are similarly marginalized.

I think the gender pay gap in many countries - an objective reality with tons of statistics to back it up - is a good way to illustrate this. Yeah, if you're a man in a low level at a company, the women ranked above you probably make more than you. But what about the women at the same level as you? That's what the pay gap is referencing: that women tend to make less than men (of the same race and other factors - there's also a racial pay gap, and black women make even less than white women but also less than black men) for doing the same work, at the same level, etc.

(And sometimes the disparity isn't even between people on the "same level": Claire Foy played Queen Elizabeth II on The Crown, a show ABOUT Queen Elizabeth II, and she made less than Matt Smith did playing Prince Philip until she found out and drew attention to it and the studio was forced to pay her what they owed her.)

The argument of comparing more privileged women and less privileged men, though, is one that anti-feminists like Men's Rights Activists use to deny the gender pay gap. They'll argue that because some individual women in higher-powered jobs make more than they do, that the pay gap doesn't exist, even though those women are likely making less than men in similarly high-powered jobs.

We need ways to talk about these systematic realities because we can't really address the problem if you don't know what causes the problem. But I also hope people realize that this particular thought distortion can be applied to pretty much any type of marginalization.

And, in fact, outside of Tumblr, it DOES get used that way. I've seen people do this with race: suggest that the existence of multimillionaire black athletes and actors alongside the existence of, say, homeless white people, means that white privilege/racism isn't real. Or use the existence of affluent gay people or gay politicians like Pete Buttigieg, or the fact that a lot of white cis gay people can buy into racism or transphobia, to suggest that homophobia doesn't exist. Just about every disabled person I know has a story about someone suggesting their disability "can't be all that bad" because of other advantages they had in life. Yeah, having an advanced degree and supportive family, friends and spouse means my ADHD doesn't affect me as badly as if I didn't have those things - but if I didn't have ADHD I'd still have fewer struggles. That's the comparison point.

When you're designing an experiment you can't alter every variable at once. You have to stick to just one variable at a time.

--

[hopehjort]

Why (Inattentive) ADHD folks are so sensitive to rejection.

I want to talk about this. It’s been in my mind a lot lately. In October I got my inattentive ADHD diagnosis at the age of 29 (I turn 30 in just 20 days).

Inattentive ADHD is what used to be call ADD in the past. The reason it’s not anymore is because we still have that Hyperactivity. It’s still there. It’s in our head, our mind, our racing thoughts going 100 miles an hour. The daydreaming, the excited rambling, the zoning out and completely ignoring everything around you for a solid 2-5 minutes before realising you’re driving on the highway(before you ask YES. This has happened to me on several occasions - no I have miraculously not been in any accidents.)

It’s an internal hyperactivity.

Anyway - all my life I’ve been struggling with a lot of emotional turmoil and if there’s one thing I know I’m afraid of. Something that can and has absolutely done in the past – break me – it’s rejection.

Social rejection, relationship rejection, romantic rejection, job rejection. We’ve all been there. It’s part of life. And every time someone express fear of said rejection. The response is almost always the same.

- What’s the worst that can happen?

- It’s not the end of the world.

- A no won’t kill you.

All true by the way yes. In the overview of the world, yes. Certainly things I’ve said myself. Things I’m still working on accepting.

Everybody has an emotional volume switch on the inside. Something you can turn up and down depending on your feelings.

ADHD folks often usually have a different kind of switch. We have off and on. 0% and 100%. Now There is a way to practice feeling the different percentages inbetween but it can be hard. Also remember everybody is different and I am primarily speaking from personal experience and talking with others who has felt similar.

What does 0 vs 100% mean you ask?

Well it means either you can or you can’t. If I get the job I applied for that’s 100% - I CAN do what I want to work as.

If I happen to not get the job I applied for? That 0%. That’s me being told that I’m not good enough. And the more rejections I get the more I’m told how much I truly must suck at this type of job I really want.

The more rejections given the bigger, the louder, the more INTENSE this 0% becomes.

No. It’s not the end of the world. It won’t kill me. But it hurts so bad it feels like it does.

“Stop getting upset. It’s just a lost toy, it’s just one job, It’s just one guy/girl/any, It’s just xyz, it’s not that bad.”

No. It’s not JUST xyz. Yes it IS that bad because it FEELS that bad. Because it feels intense. We can’t just linger somewhere in between. Even though we want to.

Just… be aware. Understand that we try but it’s not that easy. Things hits us harder because if we don’t feel at 0% we feel it at 100%.

 And no one wants to feel at 0%.

[sophieinwonderland]

u have a v distinct way of doing things and i am v aware of it so i play by ur methods. i will take this excessively diplomatically so no one can possibly misconstrue my words

i made the original post ab this whole thing. in spite of having been labeled as anti endo (and a singlet for some reason) i’m not rly. i have been involved in the plural community long before my DID dx and my last bf was a veritbonder. i have seen the endo community from the inside and don’t have issues w it.

my problem is the disingenuous nature of many syscoursers, and you are not excluded from this. i could do the same thing as you have done and explain why i think PNES should just be called regular seizures and they’re exactly the same now. there are many sources where they have been called seizures for years and years. but language changes, and i know you know this. it is one of your whole arguments as to why you are for the use of tulpa. to you, that word means something different than its origins.

to me, as a bodily semiverbal person, these terms mean something different. these words have evolved within the community that they were applied to. the system community, both endogenic and traumagenic, is dissociated (ha) from the semi/nonverbal community at large. you don’t know how we use these words because you literally do not participate in our community or culture. just like someone who commented on one of your other posts said, this is exactly like when verbal autistics who lose speech insist that saying “go nonverbal” doesn’t hurt nonverbal people.

as i said in my original post, and yet people somehow become unable to read for one sentence, if one headmate fronts for a significant amount of time that you could be considered semiverbal as one body, then you can do that. you are very disingenuous with your “bodily experiences” post, even though i am very sure you understand what people mean by that. my entire body regardless of any headmate fronting will always be semiverbal or nonverbal as my brain damage progresses. i use these words to tell people that as a body i cannot speak how you speak. if i had some headmates that couldn’t talk i would just say that. those specific ones can’t talk. my body is verbal overall.

if you go into our communities, we will hear you say “i am nonverbal” and will assume that your body does not and cannot speak. we will defer to you and seek to uplift your voice as one of the most disabled members of our society. our community is based around intersectionality and understanding that there are people more disabled than you. it is the job of verbal people to listen to me, and it is my job to listen to nonverbal people.

if you use these terms just for yourself. just between you and your therapist. between you and your friends. then no, it doesn’t matter. it was never about that. it is about the community and community implications of people who are objectively less disabled taking a word for people who are more so.

headmates can be people, they can do that, but a single body exists. you can’t just ignore that. i don’t become white when my white headmate fronts. i don’t gain the ability to walk unaided when abled headmates front. i don’t become less disabled in any way. i don’t become verbal.

and if you want to counter with abled systems can have alters that can’t walk, because i know you just want to, we don’t call it paralysis. we call it functional, somatic, or psychogenic paralysis. it works differently in the body just the same. you can’t insert yourself into semi/nonverbal spaces any more than you can insert yourself into a SCI support group.

i could do the same thing as you have done and explain why i think PNES should just be called regular seizures and they’re exactly the same now. there are many sources where they have been called seizures for years and years. but language changes, and i know you know this.

I'm already lost...

Is there some sort of discourse claiming that you can't call psychogenic non-epileptic seizures... seizures?

and if you want to counter with abled systems can have alters that can’t walk, because i know you just want to, we don’t call it paralysis. we call it functional, somatic, or psychogenic paralysis.

Or that psychogenic paralysis isn't a valid type of paralysis?

The cause may be different, but there are a ton of different causes for various conditions.

Someone blinded by an eye disease is blind. Someone blinded by their eyes being physically damaged is blind. Someone who experiences psychogenic blindness is blind.

Likewise, psychogenic paralysis IS paralysis. And a psychogenic non-epileptic seizure IS a seizure. You can add a qualifier to that... but it's not necessary.

if you go into our communities, we will hear you say “i am nonverbal” and will assume that your body does not and cannot speak.

That could be a fair assumption with no context. Although I... frankly doubt this happens often, or is a mistake that lasts long without being corrected.

If someone hears me say "I'm a cis woman" without context, I'm sure they would wrongfully assume I mean that the body is AFAB.

Obviously, it's important to try to mitigate miscommunications like these. But I assume that if you're dealing with a system with nonverbal headmates, you'll realize shortly the error. Unless that nonverbal headmate is the host or is otherwise fronting all or most of the time, in which case... maybe the miscommunication isn't as important as you think it is. 🤷‍♀️

our community is based around intersectionality and understanding that there are people more disabled than you. it is the job of verbal people to listen to me, and it is my job to listen to nonverbal people.

And this, I think is a mistake. At least when taken to the extremes I see here.

First... I'm really not comfortable with the idea of "more disabled" here. Sure, you can kind of apply this in specific contexts to try to say recurrent symptoms aren't as bad because they don't happen as often... but having your legs randomly give out while crossing the street might be more harmful than being a fulltime wheelchair user who wouldn't have been in that situation.

I'm also not comfortable with this thought in this specific case as it suggests that the nonverbal singlet is "more disabled" than the traumagenic DID system with severe memory loss and c-PTSD who has nonverbal headmates, and therefore gets a right to police their terms.

But let's say for the sake of argument this has merit and DID systems with nonverbal headmates are "less disabled" than nonverbal singlets:

Yes, you should absolutely listen to people with disabilities. Especially severe ones. But...

Dysphoric transgender people are technically more disabled (in that specific context) than non-dysphoric ones.

The same logic you're using could just as easily be used to support transmedicalists over non-dysphoric transgender people. Actually, the same logic HAS been used this way. Repeatedly. It's one of the main talking points employed by transmeds to garner sympathy.

There HAS to be more critical thought put into these issues than just "listen to the most disabled people in the room," which in this context really feels more like "accept what the most vocal members of a group say on a given platform without question."

This is also the logic sysmeds use against endogenic and non-disordered systems.

"We're disabled trauma survivors, so therefore you're supposed to listen to us when we claim this other marginalized group of people aren't real and their experiences aren't valid, and they aren't allowed to use terms we claim are ours regardless of whether those terms originally were or not. If you disagree with us then you're ableist."

We cannot afford to normalize this sort of exclusionism and gatekeeping.

[whumpinggrounds]

Writing Visible vs Invisible Disabilities

Poll winner! Here goes. I would like to emphasize that my information and knowledge pertains specifically to the USA - I’m going to discuss some legal stuff with accommodations/disability equity that are super specific to America so if you are reading from/writing outside of the USA, you should probably conduct some of your own research on that.

Vocab

Invisible disability, hidden disability, or non-apparent disability are all terms used to describe a disability that is not readily measurable or apparent to sighted individuals. Invisible disability is the most commonly used, but non-apparent is felt to be the most neutral, as “hidden” implies a conscious secrecy and some so-called “invisible” disabilities do become visible or apparent in the right circumstances. Examples may include things like neurological conditions, chronic illnesses, mental illness, or autoimmune diseases.

Personal note: In this post I primarily use invisible disability because to me, it is the most common, and most recognizable. I also use non-apparent, because I think it’s specific and useful. I don’t use hidden because it does seem to carry value judgment, more so than invisible.

Visible disability is a term that describes a disability that is measurable or readily apparent to a sighted individual. Examples might include someone with a partial limb, muscular dystrophy requiring the use of a wheelchair, or a form of dwarfism resulting in a different body shape and size.

Multiple disabilities or multiply disabled refers to a person that has more than one disability.

Cross-disabled or cross-disability is a term that refers to organizations or concerns that apply broadly to people across the spectrum of ability and disability. This is as opposed to organizations or concerns that are specifically tailored or related to a particular disability.

The ADA, or Americans with Disabilities Act, is a piece of cross-disability legislation.

The SMA Foundation (Spinal Muscular Atrophy) is a single disability organization.

Passing is a term sometimes used to describe someone that is not in an identity group but can look or behave as though they do. An example might be a Deaf person using hearing aids to “pass” or be seen as hearing. 

Nondisabled is a good neutral term for people that do not have disabilities. Abled or able-bodied is frequently used, but some see it as creating a hierarchy between abled and disabled people. Try to avoid words like “normal” or “healthy.”

Limb difference is a term describing the partial or complete absence, or malformation, of an arm or leg. This can be congenital (from birth) or acquired.

Facial difference is a term that describes anything above the neck that is visibly different from the majority of other people. I have a post about it that goes into much greater detail.

Self-disclosure means sharing something about oneself. In the context of disability, self-disclosure refers to the decision to share one’s disability status or diagnosis. Generally speaking, self-disclosure is a formal term and in my experience is used when referring to disclosing disability status or diagnosis as part of attending school, starting a new job, or otherwise requesting accommodations. 

Access needs are something that a person needs to communicate, learn, or take part in an activity.

Support needs are sometimes used interchangeably with access needs, but can also refer to a person’s basic needs in order to live (eating, sleeping, bathrooming, etc.)

Accommodations is a term often used to describe legally mandated services provided to a person who has been diagnosed with a disability. These are most commonly in place at a person’s school or work and help a disabled person effectively complete tasks.

Access needs, support needs, and accommodations are similar in nature and are sometimes used interchangeably, but are not always the same thing. I know this is wildly confusing.

Generally speaking, the word “accommodations” (in regards to access) is used primarily in schools, and sometimes in professional working environments. Access needs are used more often in public or professional environments, and support needs in personal environments.

Some examples: Ramps are an access need. They can also be an accommodation, but an accommodation would more likely be phrased as “wheelchair-accessible classrooms or workspaces,” which could either be accessed through ramps or being on the bottom floor.

Assistance with handling finances is a support need. Extra time on tests is an accommodation.

Visible Disability Considerations

Before we get started: I am not saying these things only apply to those with visible disabilities. They may be more common for people with visible disabilities, but people with invisible disabilities could, and many have, experienced the same or similar things. I am not gatekeeping anything; I am just trying to organize this post.

Harassment in public. Someone who is visibly disabled may be openly stared at or subject to ableist abuse because people can tell that they have a disability. Most of what I have to say here relates to this, but there are some specifics I’m going to get into as well.

Being pitied. “Well-meaning” non-disabled people may try to do something “nice” for someone who they see as “less fortunate.” Assistance with things someone doesn’t need assistance with, comments about being brave or inspiring, or offers to pray for someone all fall under this category - all that and more, in fact.

Assumption of incompetence. Sometimes this means that people assume someone with a visible disability is automatically cognitively disabled. Sometimes it means that people believe a visibly disabled person is not capable of performing simple tasks. This can mean anything from being “helped” in a supermarket to being discriminated against when applying for work.

Ableism and discrimination. Everything listed is ableism and discrimination, but it’s worth saying outright. People with visible disabilities are often subject to ableist abuse, hiring discrimination, housing discrimination, and many other kinds of prejudice because they cannot mask or hide their disability, or pass as non-disabled.

People with invisible disabilities also suffer from ableism and discrimination. This is sometimes more common for people with visible disabilities, but can happen to anyone - even, actually, to non-disabled people who are thought to have a disability.

Inappropriate questions. Just because someone is visibly disabled does not mean that anyone is entitled to further information. Asking a stranger “what happened to them” or “what’s wrong with them” is always inappropriate, and is often inappropriate with coworkers or acquaintances as well. Your characters should know someone decently well and be able to gauge your disabled character’s comfort level before asking this kind of question.

Mobility aid policing. Mobility aids are visible, so users often fall under the visible disability umbrella. Sometimes, even though someone is using a mobility aid, random people in public decide they do not need it, or try to argue with them about faking it. Not being visibly disabled “enough,” or not being believed about being disabled, is still a problem for the visibly disabled.

Service dogs can be mobility aids, or other kinds of disability aids. People interacting with them, or trying to interact with them in public, also falls under this category.

Invisible Disability Considerations

Once again: I am not saying these things only apply to those with invisible disabilities. They may be more common for people with invisible disabilities, but people with visible disabilities could, and many have, experienced the same or similar things. I am not gatekeeping anything; I am just trying to organize this post.

Assumption of ability. Someone with an invisible disability may be assumed to be capable of everything a non-disabled person can do. They may have to repeatedly explain why they cannot do certain things or even why they do do things - like take pills, avoid certain foods, or rest more frequently than non-disabled peers. This ties into our next section -

Not being believed about severity or symptoms. People without visible or measurable disabilities can be disbelieved by strangers about their disability status, but also, very painfully, by friends, family, or medical professionals. Since a non-apparent disability may rely on self-report, other systemic biases may come into play here as well, like not believing someone because they’re a woman, or POC. People may also get comments like “you’re too young to be disabled,” “it’s all in your head,” or “you don’t look disabled.”

Again, this can and does also happen to visibly disabled people as well.  

Being accused of lying or faking it. This is obviously the same as not being believed, but is a slightly different manifestation. This is when non-disabled people believe someone is faking having a disability in order to get attention or access to disability resources. Ignoring the fact that that is a completely unrewarding thing to do, this is a combination of disbelief, and suspecting the disabled person in question of intentional malice and selfishness. Again, this can be frustrating and incredibly painful.

Once again. Can and does happen to visibly disabled people.

When to self-disclose. Someone with an invisible disability gets more of a choice in if and when to talk about their disability. This means they have more control over who gets to know, when, how, what, and why, but also comes with problems of its own.

Telling new friends may come with concerns about being viewed or treated differently.

Telling a school or place of work may introduce the risk of scrutiny or discrimination.

Telling anyone risks potential ableism or alienation. 

Asking for accommodations. Possibly more so than a visibly disabled person, a person with a non-apparent disability may have to self-disclose and then actively pursue the fulfillment of their support needs, access needs, or accommodations. I know many people who have voluntarily gone without the accommodations that they are legally entitled to, because they wanted to avoid shitty conversations about them and their needs. 

Being able to go without one’s accommodations and “pass” for non-disabled can be viewed as a privilege, but going without one’s needed support needs, access needs, or accommodations can also be difficult, painful, and sometimes more impossible than a person realizes.

Resource policing. Some people may not be visibly disabled, but may still need resources like a service dog, an accessible parking pass, or use of the accessible bathroom stall. It is not at all uncommon for random people in public to see someone that they don’t think is disabled making use of a public resource for disabled people, and decide to say something about it.

Cross-Disability Considerations

What are your character’s support needs, access needs, and/or accommodations? If they don’t have any, why not?

How is your character perceived? Is their disability apparent to all, some, or none of the people around them? Under what circumstances might it become apparent?

How comfortable is your character with talking about their disability? Is it something that they take pride in, or something they would rather not be defined by? Does it feel very personal to them, or is it not that big of a deal? In what situations do they explain their diagnosis, and in what situations do they decide not to?

In what ways does ableism manifest, or not manifest, in your character’s life? Is there stigma attached to their diagnosis? Why or why not?

How does the medical establishment of your setting view your character’s disability or disabilities? How does that contrast with other disabilities? What is the reasoning behind this?

How does your character feel about medical interventions or cures? How much time/effort/money are they willing to put into medical interventions and cures, and why might that be?

Is your character part of a community or identity group centered around their disability? Do they know anyone with their same disability, or any disabilities at all? How does this community, or the lack of it, feel to them? How does the representation and kinship, or lack thereof, feel to them?

Rethink

This visibly disabled character has it harder than the invisibly disabled character. Or vice versa. Try not to set up hierarchies of suffering or ability. Non-apparent disabilities can be just as disabling, or more so, than visible disabilities. Setting up these two arbitrary categories in conflict is not really necessary, and is ableist no matter what direction it is in.

This character has accommodations/access needs/support needs but doesn’t use them or seem to truly need them. Why would your character have accommodations/access needs/support needs but not use them? Why might it seem “better” to not have these kinds of needs?

This character goes to great lengths to appear non-disabled. Again - why? Not saying you can’t do this, but think about what messages it sends and be intentional in the way you write this.

This character is visibly disabled, but can function exactly like a non-disabled person in every way. Exact same questions as above. Also - how realistic is this? Why might it be important or valuable to adhere to a non-disabled standard? What might be gained or lost?

Resources

As I have mentioned, I don’t like recommending media I haven’t personally read/watched/listened to, because I like to know what I’m recommending. In reviewing my own stuff, I don’t have much for invisible vs. visible resources. I have two books that are pretty general. If anyone else has media that fits with this post, please feel free to add it on!

Demystifying Disability by Emily Landau is a cross-disability primer on disability basics, etiquette, and disability justice. It’s a quick read that I highly recommend.

Disability Visibility, collected by Alice Wong, is a book of essays written by disabled people about their lives, thoughts, and experiences. It’s super engaging and informative, and I also highly recommend, particularly because these people are talking about their own lives in their own words.

[tingerines]

Pairing: Azul x GN!Reader Genre: Fluff A/N: The reader in this is not Yuu. I went way too ham at 2 A.M. and ended up writing 11.6k words, so enjoy my descend into fluffy madness lmao.

Everyday life as a librarian is as mundane as you can get within the walls of Night Raven College. With the exceptions of the occasional ruckus caused by groups of college students — mainly Floyd — or Crowley coming to offer yet another deal that you can’t seem to refuse, the library serves as a quiet haven for those who can’t find it elsewhere; you included.

At first you weren’t sure what you wanted to do here, or what you could do here. You’d spent the last couple of months just cramming as much History of Magic knowledge as you could into your brain, simply trying to make sense of the new world that you were in, without giving much thought to how you could fit in if you weren’t going home anytime soon. So, it comes to no surprise that once that was done and over with, you found yourself with way too much free time on your hands.

It’s when you’re in the midst of a particularly rowdy lunch, that your friend Epel mentions a new job opening at the library on-campus. He’d insisted that you apply, explaining that the library was in desperate need of someone that has competent knowledge of literature and you were perfect for the job.

You were hesitant at first, mostly because you were shy and quiet — especially in public settings — and that’s why you gave up trying to befriend more people here. But Epel reasoned it wouldn’t be too bad, or busy, at all because he would be helping you out. Plus, Vil told him that the practice would help him get used to speaking “properly”. So, you applied for the position.

Now you’ve found yourself working at the library for a little over half a year already, and Epel was right: working at the library wasn’t all that difficult. While he offers to deal with inquiring students all day — just to save you the anxiety of having to do so yourself — you’re left to acquire, classify, and catalog materials away from their prying eyes.

Today’s arrangement is no different.

You’ve just finished cataloging this week’s new batch of books, and after carefully stacking them onto your handy-dandy book cart, you head over to the elevator to the second floor. The doors slide apart with a quiet ding! to announce your arrival before you push the book cart to the first set of bookshelves labeled “Fiction: 001 - 200.09”, all the while nodding your head and mumbling polite greetings to the people you pass by.

Your hands busy themselves by putting the books into their respective spots, first alphabetically then by call numbers. You’re halfway through your stacks when someone gently taps on your shoulder, causing you to jump in surprise before you turn around to see Epel standing there.

“Uh… yes?” you ask, clearing your throat as you straighten up and fiddle with the hem of your sweater.

“Could you work the front today? I’m exhausted,” Epel runs a hand through his hair as he sighs in exasperation.

You squint your eyes at him and try to figure out if he’s simply trying to trick you into socializing, but the way his eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched tells you otherwise. Rather reluctantly, you nod in agreement to his request, “I guess so. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t expect working at a library to be the same experience as working retail. Like, excuse me, we sent you the notification that your books were overdue. Don’t yell at me because you didn’t pay attention and now you have to pay the fees, sir,” Epel slams his hand down the top of a book as he emphasizes the last word, the loud sound making you jump.

Epel begins to shove books into the empty slots of the bookshelf, not truly caring if they belong there or not. You can’t help but wince as you watch him do so, the feeling you’re experiencing is like watching someone try to drink soup broth with a fork: it’s just not right.

“Okay, Epel, I’m heading to the front then.”

At this point, the man doesn’t even hear you anymore; too busy in his own thoughts cursing at the disrespect he’s been shown and taking out his frustrations on the bundle of papers in his hands. You turn on your heels before you can change your mind and tell Epel to get the heck away from your precious books and make your way back down to the checkout counter on the first floor.

It’s quiet for a Friday afternoon. Usually you’d expect a small crowd of students to trudge in, their backpacks heavy with textbooks and eye bags as dark as a cloudy sky. Sometimes you miss the days when you used to be like that too; even though it was difficult you made a lot of fond memories that made it all bearable.

You situate yourself on the worn-out leather office chair Epel usually occupies, the backrest creaking a bit too loudly for your liking when you lean against it.

Maybe you can strike up a deal with Crowley to get a new one later. No, scratch that idea — you never know what that man wants in return.

The computer in front of you is just starting to boot up when the entrance of the library swings open, causing your gaze to shift out of curiosity.

Your eyes land on the figure of an attractive young man dressed in the classic NRC school uniform, the purple ribbon secured to his left arm showcasing that he’s a part of the Octavinelle dorm. You can’t shake the feeling that you know this man from somewhere, but you also can’t quite put your finger on where.

Feeling eyes on him, the man turns his head towards you and gives you a polite smile when you make eye contact. You can feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment from being caught staring, and you avert your eyes almost immediately — opting to stare at the brightly lit computer screen instead.

“Excuse me,” the man calls out, and you think to yourself that his soft-spoken voice matches his angelic appearance very well.

“Yes?” you answer after a few moments of silence, reluctantly glancing up.

As the man approaches the checkout counter, you can’t help but to stare at him with slightly widened eyes and a thin-lipped smile. It must look like you’re in pain to him — in this case, your pain is just downright embarrassment — but you were always one to have your emotions and thoughts written all over your face, so you couldn’t hide it even if you’d wanted to.

“Is Epel out today?” the man asks as he rests his hands on the counter and his eyes scan the space behind you.

“‘Epel’?” you echo your friend’s name, your expression quickly changing into one of confusion. “No, he's here… why?”

“Oh, no reason. He’s just usually the one to be sitting here so I was just wondering,” the man chuckles while shaking his head, a finger pressed to the bridge of his glasses to keep them from moving.

“Okay…” your voice trails off as you weren’t sure what to say next.

Is it usual for Epel to make small talk with everyone? You have to commend him for being able to do that every day with who knows how many people when you can barely think of what to say to this one person. He must have sensed how uncomfortable you feel, because the man takes a step backwards towards the staircase with his thumb pointing over his shoulder.

“I'm guessing he’s upstairs, so I’ll go there,” he announces before giving you another smile, this one more unsettling than the last. “I’ll see you later. Have a great evening.”

You wave goodbye to the man and give him a small, less awkward smile back, watching as he turns and speed walks up the stairs as if someone is chasing him. The smile doesn’t leave your face even after he’s disappeared from your view.

“Of course he would see me later. He has to pass by the checkout counter to leave the library anyways,” you think as you focus your attention back to the computer screen.

On display is a website with the daily list of upcoming school events a.k.a. your number one resource of finding which areas of the school you should avoid like the plague. Your eyes spot a familiar name: Mostro Lounge, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Is there ever a time this place isn’t up to no good?” you wonder aloud to yourself as you click on the direct link provided to learn more about the newest event.

If you’re being completely honest, there’s no real reason you feel so negatively towards the Octavinelle restaurant. You’d merely heard rumors from Ace and Deuce when they practically bet their livelihoods to the housewarden for good exam scores, and you decided to avoid the place on the off chance that you get suckered into another bad deal.

You stare at the screen for a few seconds once the browser finally refreshes before rubbing your eyes with your knuckles.

“No way,” you lean closer to the screen while eyeing it in disbelief.

According to the webpage, the Mostro Lounge is holding a promotion for the next week and a percentage of the profits will be donated to the library. You scroll further down to see if there was any other information provided, stopping when a particular headshot catches your eye.

“No way!” you repeat louder this time, your mouth hanging open from the shock that hits you.

“‘No way’ what? Are you okay?” a familiar voice asks, causing your head to snap up.

You can only shake your head wordlessly as Epel approaches the checkout counter, empty book cart in hand. He pauses, an eyebrow raised as he questions you impatiently, “well, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“T— this… Epel, you—” you manage to stammer out incoherent words as you look back and forth between the screen and your friend, a finger pointed accusingly at him. “Have you made a deal with the Octavinelle housewarden?”

“Who, Azul?” Epel’s face is full of confusion when you mention the man’s name. “Why do you ask?”

You shoot up from your seat and turn the computer screen around, and Epel leans forward to look at whatever it is you keep aggressively tapping at. It’s only then that it crosses his mind that he hadn’t told you about the deal Crowley and Azul had made.

“Oh, right. So, uh… about that,” Epel starts off slowly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck while he tries to keep the guilt from showing on his face. Just like you, Epel has a hard time masking the emotion on his face. “Azul has apparently been complaining that there’s a lack of useful books here during one of the Housewarden Meetings; so the Headmage agreed to allow him to choose our next couple batches as long as he pitches in.”

“What in the Sevens is a ‘useful book’ in his standards?” your eyebrows furrow in frustration, side-eyeing the endless shelves of books you spend every day organizing.

“Books that will help him fulfill his end of his contracts, of course. Probably for potions like the one that he makes for Vil’s skincare,” Epel speaks matter-of-factly before he turns back to the book cart, humming a show tune while strolling away to the storage room behind you.

Leave it to Epel to be so nonchalant about anything and everything.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath to calm your heart that you didn’t realize was racing from adrenaline, your body slowly sinking back down onto the office chair with a short creak.

Meanwhile Azul is on the second floor, leaning against the wooden railing as he observes you curiously. Of course Azul is aware of the reputation he’s built around himself: a man capable of granting any wish, though the price is steep. One should be wary when agreeing to enter a contract with him. With such a reputation, he would have expected you to know who he was as soon as he walked in, but apparently you never knew what he looked like in the first place.

Secretly, he likes that fact: there’s someone who exists who doesn’t merely seek him out for their own needs. Not that you were seeking him out in the first place, which also stings.

Azul, please make up your mind.

Azul smiles to himself as he pushes his body away from the railing, turning to eye the multiple bookshelves around him as an idea comes to mind. Since it didn’t seem that you like to converse with strangers, he’ll have to find another way to befriend you.

And so, half an hour later, he finds himself standing at the checkout counter, a satisfied smile on his face as he glances down at the stack of books in his arms.

“Are you ready to check out?” you ask, a polite tone to your voice, as you look up from the computer.

Your smile falters for just a second when you see Azul standing in front of you, the sight of the Octavinelle symbol filling you with a sense of dread. 

Be nice, y/n, it’s not like it’s his fault you’re going to be working overtime for the next foreseeable future.

You clear your throat before shifting the chair around, your hands stretched out to take the books from Azul. He merely shakes his head and carefully sets the pile down on the counter before leaning side to side to make sure none of the books have shifted.

“Have a good day, y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he lightly taps the top of the book pile with his fingertips, drawing your attention away from him and to the books before he steps out of the library.

You furrow your eyebrows, your lips curved into a frown as you ponder whether or not you’ve told him your name yet. You decide that you must have, it’s just that your memory’s getting worse as you get older. A sigh escapes your lips at the thought, your still outstretched hands pulling the books Azul left behind towards you so you could put them back where they belong.

“He’s definitely not checking these back in; he wasn’t even carrying any books when he came in earlier. But then why would he bring them here if he wasn’t planning on borrowing them?” you think and eye the books curiously, your chin sandwiched between your fingers.

Hello, Sunshine by [redacted] It’s a Beautiful Day by [redacted] Introduction by [redacted] Humans by [redacted] Peach by [redacted] How to Make Friends for Dummies by [redacted]

You furrow your eyebrows while thinking to yourself that Azul has — well, not strange — but definitely an interestingly wide taste in book genres. But the thought quickly goes away when you give the books a second glance, now wondering if the stranger was trying to give you a secret message through… book spines?

“Hey, Epel!” you call out, not moving your gaze away from the books as if they might disappear if you look away.

“What?!” Epel’s muffled voice answers from the storage room.

“Could you come here for a sec?”

You hear the click of a door opening behind you followed by the shuffling of feet as Epel makes his way over to you. You gather the books into your arms before turning in the chair to face Epel.

“Look, look. What’s this?” you nudge the pile towards Epel.

“Uh… books?” Epel crosses his arms before looking down at the items in your arms with an unimpressed look. “Is this some kind of trick question?”

You roll your eyes at his sassy tone and nudge the books even closer, “no, Epel. Someone left these here. Look at the titles.”

“Huh,” Epel huffs, eyes carefully scanning the titles as he's told to. “What about them?”

“I’m not sure. Is this supposed to be a message or what?” you can’t help the impatient tone that creeps into your voice as you drop the books onto your lap.

Epel gently bites his thumb as he ponders it for a bit. Some of the students here did have some unconventional ways of communicating sometimes. That was apparent from the way Rook asked Epel for help with an Alchemy project last month: by sliding a heart-shaped sticky note under his dorm room door at 4 A.M..

“Yeah, it could be,” Epel finally answers you with a shrug. “Why don’t you try giving them a response? The worst-case scenario is you got it wrong.”

And with that suggestion, Epel leaves you alone again; but not before giving you a, what you assume is supposed to be reassuring, pat on the shoulder.

“Maybe I should,” you think as you glance down at the stacks of books once more, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

❥

The next morning, you enter the library with a feeling of anticipation that you haven’t felt in a long time. You spent a good chunk of last night thinking of how to properly respond to Azul’s message: should you use book spines like he did? Or perhaps try a blackout poem?

You decided on the latter but didn’t have the heart to color inside a book or rip out a page. As a compromise, you wrote out a page of Azul’s first book on a separate piece of paper instead. And that paper is currently tucked into the back pocket of your pants, awaiting the right moment for you to pass it along to its intended receiver.

“Good morning, Epel,” you sing-song, almost skipping around the counter to give the man a hug.

“Morn— ah!” Epel yelps when he suddenly finds himself engulfed in your arms and he raises a hand hesitantly to pat your back, “nice to see you too? Someone’s happy this morning.”

“I am, I’m sorry,” you giggle, unwrapping your arms around the man before taking a step back, “can you do me a favor?”

“Depends on what,” Epel hums, his eyes narrowing because he should have known you weren’t being so nice for no reason. He watches as you shove your hands into your back pocket and pull out a piece of light pink paper folded into an origami peach fruit. His eyes cross when you hold it up a bit too close to his face. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Could you please give this to the stranger from last night?” you ask quietly while giving your friend your best puppy dog eyes.

He blinks, his gaze shifting between your face and the paper peach in front of him. He purses his lips before reluctantly nodding and snatching the paper out of your hands, “Okay… but I don’t even know who I’m looking for, so why can’t you do it yourself?”

“You know why,” your lips jut out into a pout while Epel shakes his head into his hands. “I can’t be there to look him in the eyes if I was actually wrong!”

“You’re actually hopeless, y/n. Maybe you should be meeting with Vil to work on your confidence.”

“I’ll hard pass on that one.”

“So, what’s he look like?”

“Fair-skinned. Beauty mark on the left side of his chin. Short, wavy grey hair. Oh, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s in Octavinelle.”

Epel peeks up at you from between his fingers, glad that his hands are hiding the shocked look on his face. Surely there’s no way that you’re actually describing Azul Ashengrotto without realizing it.

Speaking of the devil, the entrance to the library swings open and the aforementioned man comes striding in with a certain loud eel following closely behind.

Your body automatically straightens as you shoot daggers at the tall man, “Floyd, please try not to cause a disturbance today — and please leave Riddle alone.”

“Oh? I’m afraid you have the wrong brother,” the man chuckles, fist coming up to his lips as he shoots you a polite smile. “See the way this part of my hair curves to look like a ‘J’? That’s the easiest way to make out that I’m Jade.”

“Oh, Sevens. I’m so sorry,” your face begins to heat up in embarrassment once you take a closer look at the man. “I see you two so often, I can’t believe I’m still making that mistake.”

“No worries at all, it’s a common mistake. Housewarden Riddle will be safe to study in peace today.”

“Wonderful, then our heads are safe for today,” you place your hand on your chest and breathe a sigh of relief.

You then glance at the familiar man standing next to Jade with his hands nervously clenched together in front of him. You flash him a warm smile and a quick “good morning” before excusing yourself to the storage room.

No one within a five-feet radius could miss the way you waved aggressively at Epel as you walked away.

“Right,” Epel drawls once he hears the sound of a door click. He holds out the peach origami unceremoniously, his face screaming boredom when no one moves. “I believe this is for you.”

“My, my, you have great craftsmanship, Epel,” Jade smiles again, leaning in to study the pink paper in the other’s hand.

“I didn’t make it, y/n did. And it’s not for you,” Epel rolls his eyes, shifting his hands towards Azul’s direction.

Azul’s expression is a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. First, surprise from you understanding the message he had conveyed from the books last night. He admittedly had never done something like that before, and didn’t have enough time to go scavenger hunting for the right books.

Second, embarrassment from having been discovered in front of one of the twins. There’s no way this isn’t going to reach Floyd’s ears and he’ll have to mentally prepare himself for a royal tease storm later.

Azul clears his throat and ignores the way Jade’s eyes follow him curiously when he takes a few steps forward to grab the paper from Epel, “thank you for this.”

“I must have missed a couple chapters here,” Jade comments in amusement. “Would you care to share?”

“Absolutely not, Jade.”

❥

It’s not until Azul is in the safety from prying eyes of the V.I.P. room that Azul finally decides to read what you’ve given him.

He picks up the paper peach delicately like it is his mother’s fine china, turning it over and over between his fingers to study your origami work.

It’s a shame I have to ruin this, Azul thinks to himself as he gingerly unfolds your note. He stares at the long thick lines of black drawn on the page, mentally reading the words that were purposely made legible.

[illegible] It’s nice to meet you, [illegible] You have [illegible] a beautiful smile [illegible] I like [illegible] your [illegible] books.

A few more lines of black.

I’m sorry [illegible] It’s a bit awkward, but [illegible] See you soon.

Azul rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, an amused smile appearing on his face as he re-reads your note.

“They’re certainly creative,” he mutters to himself as he follows the creases of the paper to re-fold your origami peach, ideas already popping into his mind as a feeling of anticipation similar to yours bubbles up inside of him.

Thus, begins your unique form of communication with the housewarden.

On the night the promotion is to begin at Mostro Lounge, Azul drops yet another pile of books for you at the checkout counter. His lips are curved up to a rare timid smile as Epel stares at him from his seat, “I assume these aren’t for yourself.”

“Um… no,” Azul rubs the back of his neck, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

“I’ll make sure y/n gets this,” Epel can’t help but laugh at the expression on Azul’s face as he slides the books closer to himself. “Why do you look like that? I’m not judging you.”

“I know you aren’t!” Azul quickly retorts, his voice rising slightly in defense. “It’s just… I feel a little weird. We’ve never spoken more than a handful of words to each other, but now I'm getting excited to talk to them like this…”

Epel waves his hand in the air dismissively, “trust me: even I’m surprised at how things are unfolding between the two of you.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t told them who I am yet.”

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m just glad y/n’s finally opening up and making new friends,” Epel says plainly before sticking his tongue out at the older man. “No matter how suspicious the new friend could be.”

Before Azul could question him further, Jade appears by his side, whispering into his ear that they will need to return to the lounge soon. Azul reluctantly excuses himself and follows his vice-housewarden back to the Hall of Mirror.

It’s the busiest that you’ve ever seen the library, watching from the safety of the opened door to the storage room as an endless circulation of people come in and out the door. In the crowd, you catch a momentary glimpse of Azul’s warm smile just before he left. The mere sight of it causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach and you tiptoe over to the counter where Epel is situated hoping to catch another glimpse of it.

You immediately hear a soft shuffling sound coming from beneath you and it causes you to look down. There lies yet another stack of books, and you give Epel a questioning glance though his eyes remain glued to the scene in front of him. Did he expect you to put these back? Right now?

When you bend down to grab the books, you almost want to facepalm yourself for being such an idiot. Because there laid yet another message from Azul; this one shorter than the last.

The Sun Says Hello by [redacted] Thank You by [redacted] You Are Beautiful by [redacted] Look Below by [redacted]

Look below? you think before following the instructions and literally looking down, but only seeing your feet. Of course, that’s not it. What about…?

You lift the pile of books off the table, a grin appearing on your face when you see a folded piece of paper where the books once were. You glance over to where you last saw Azul and can’t help but wonder if this is how the characters in romance novels felt; the nervousness of passing each other a new secret message, the anxiety of wondering if they’ve said the right thing, the excitement of awaiting a response, and the exhilaration of the whole process.

You gently pat your warming cheeks with your hands and snap yourself out of your brief thoughts. With a shake of your head, you take the note and make your way back to the storage room before closing the door behind you.

“You need to get out more,” you say aloud to yourself, referring to your ridiculous thoughts of comparing your humdrum life to a romance novel.

You click your tongue in disapproval, your hands busy unfolding Azul’s note to read the contents written inside.

Y/n, I’m sorry if this was too corny. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by approaching you directly. Thank you for your response, I really wasn’t expecting it. You guys have so many books here that it’d take a long time for me to find the ones I need to send another book spine message. I mean, not that that’s a bad thing! I hope you don’t mind a good old fashion letter though. Why don’t we share quotes from our favorite books instead? That way I don't have to trouble you and make you put back the books I took. I’m curious to know what kinds of literature you like to read. I’ll go first. “He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.” Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy - Azul Ashengrotto

You feel like your eyes are going to pop out of their sockets from how suddenly they grew wide, “Wha— you mean, like, the Octavinelle Housewarden Azul?!”

❥

A few weeks pass by with more than a handful of letters being exchanged between you and Azul; though, truthfully, you were tempted to stop your correspondence once you were aware of Azul’s identity.

“Eh, why? Did he say something wrong?” Epel had inquired when you came to him for advice once again.

“Well, no, but he did put Ace and Deuce into a predicament, so…”

“They kind of had that coming for opting to cheat instead of just studying like we did.”

“You sound just like Jack.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. What else?”

“Uh, because of the dang promotion he’s doing, we’re going to be a lot busier than usual.”

“Y/n. We work in a library — located on-campus, might I add. And it’s almost finals season,” Epel looks about ready to throw a book at you so maybe that’ll knock some sense into you.

“Okay… but what if this is just a ploy to get me to sign my livelihood away in some contract?”

“Azul’s a straightforward business man. He definitely wouldn’t be wasting his time like this just for a contract.”

You paused and thought through Epel’s words for a moment. It did make sense: why would Azul be spending his precious free time to entertain you in this way if he could’ve simply approached you with a salesman’s pitch?

You felt guilty for immediately assuming that his intentions were bad. Afterall, your only experience with the man outside of this long exchange was from word of mouth. Not to mention that his restaurant promotion was beneficial to both the library and the students.

“Okay, you may have a good point. Several good points, in fact,” you sigh in defeat.

In the beginning, both you and Azul had to badger Epel to pass along secret letters to the other person; and the requests were almost always followed with a look of utter displeasure.

There was more than one occasion where Epel was tempted to just lock the two of you inside the storage room until you would eventually talk.

Luckily for all three of you, he never had to resort to that.

There eventually came a point when you felt comfortable enough to approach Azul first, and he would always welcome you with a heart-stopping smile; one that would leave your cheeks feeling warm and catch your words in your throat. If the man knew the effect that he had on you, he was certainly gracious enough not to show it.

In his free time, Azul likes to stroll around the library with you. While it’s usually in a comfortable silence, he’ll sometimes ask you to elaborate on things from your last correspondences.

Other times, he’ll ask you to proofread his contracts or ask for your ideas on how he can improve sales at Monstro Lounge — things he usually either did himself or asked for Jade’s assistance. You always tell him that you’re not qualified enough to give him such advice, but he always insists anyway.

Just like that, you learn more about each other and your tastes in literature than you would have with anyone else.

Today Azul arrives at the library just as you’re finishing up your afternoon tasks. You rush over to the checkout counter as soon as you see him come in, the warm, welcoming smile on your face immediately lifting his spirits.

“Hi, Azul! Welcome back,” you call out to the man, waving at him with your free hand while the other is clutching a clipboard full of inventory paperwork.

“Hi, y/n,” Azul’s lips quirk up into his signature sweet smile that doesn’t betray the quick beating of his heart. “How was your day?”

“Tiring… but I kind of like seeing the new faces around here so I don’t mind that trade-off,” you answer, referring to the influx of students scrambling to prepare for finals at every available corner of the building.

“I’m glad that you’re starting to warm up to strangers,” Azul chuckles, his hand reaching out to gently ruffle your hair. You stare up at Azul with widened eyes, and he stares back with his hand slightly trembling; clearly you both are surprised by the affectionate gesture.

Azul suddenly clears his throat, breaking you both out of your momentary trance as he pulls his hand away. Even if he didn’t plan on showing his affection as such, he couldn’t deny that he’s started to develop romantic feelings for you.

That's why he came today, so he could finally ask you something that he’d been delaying for the past week or so.

“So, anyways,” Azul starts, and you can hear the subtle tone of nervousness in his voice.

You watch with furrowed eyebrows as Azul slips a strap of his backpack off his shoulders and unzips the largest pocket. After a few seconds of digging around, Azul finally flourishes a handful of books that he holds out towards you with the spines purposefully facing away.

“What’re these for?” you ask curiously, though you don’t wait for an answer before taking the books from Azul and clutching them to your chest. “Are we going back to book spine messages now?”

“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind,” Azul nods in confirmation before shrugging his backpack strap back on. He presses his lips into a thin line, eyes fixed to the floor beside you and cheeks a rosy tint as he asks, “um… I— I’ll get a reply before I leave today… right?”

“Of course, that’s been our routine for a while now,” you giggle as you find it quite adorable how shy Azul suddenly got, even if you don’t know the reason why yet.

“I’ll be waiting then,” Azul flashes an uncharacteristic half-smile before heading up to his usual writing spot on the second floor.

Although Azul seems to be acting strange today, you think that maybe he’s had a difficult time convincing Floyd to study today and has a headache. You roll your eyes at the thought while shaking your head and mumbling, “I’ll squeeze that eel twice as hard the next time I see him.”

With a loud sigh, you make your way around the checkout counter and plop down onto Epel’s vacant office chair with a familiar loud creak. You wince, bowing your head apologetically at the few people who turned towards the source of the sudden noise that disturbed their peace.

Once their attention is averted back to whatever they were doing before they were so rudely interrupted, you turn your attention back to the books Azul handed you earlier. The last time he gave you something like this was when he asked to start exchanging letters instead; so, you’re curious as to why he suddenly decided to change his method again.

You place the books on the counter in front of you, your clipboard and paperwork long forgotten underneath the stack.

Friday Nights by [redacted] Dinner Recipes by [redacted] Together by [redacted] If You’d Like To by [redacted]

You stare at the books with a dumbfounded expression, not wanting to jump into conclusions about its meaning; but what else could it mean besides Azul Ashengrotto asking you out to dinner this Friday night?

It suddenly makes sense why he was acting kind of shy earlier.

The thought makes you feel warm inside, and you have to hide the wide smile appearing on your face behind your hands.

You don’t want to wait until Azul leaves tonight to give him an answer, and you make up your mind almost right away to tell him your answer verbally — mostly because your brain is not comprehending what’s going on well enough to function properly and think of a creative response to his invitation.

You shake your head while patting your cheeks rather roughly, getting up from your seat carefully to not make any more unwanted noise.

Your feet rush you up the stairs to the second floor before you can talk yourself into chickening out, before you can change your mind, before—

The sight of Azul makes you stop in your tracks, your heart hammering wildly against your chest. Was it from seeing the person that you adore, or was it from the sudden rush of adrenaline? You honestly can’t tell anymore.

Azul is hunched over a short pile of papers — the lack of paper balls around him makes you think that he’s at least got a good start to his studying session — his cheek is resting against his fist as the other hand is busy writing away. His eyebrows are furrowed in utter concentration, so much so that he doesn’t even realize that his glasses are slowly sliding down the bridge of his nose.

You quietly make your way to the chair across the table from the man and settle yourself down onto the wooden material with your eyes still fixed on him. You’re not sure if it’s just the harsh lighting of the library or you weren’t paying attention earlier, but you can see faint dark circles under his eyes.

“Aren’t you sleeping enough?” you mumble, though Azul still doesn’t hear you. Your hand reaches out without you meaning to, your fingertips gently brushing aside the locks of hair that were starting to cover Azul’s eyes.

This finally gathers his attention and the man jolts in surprise, his eyes wide as his head shoots up to see you sitting across from him.

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable Azul looks, pulling your hand back to cover your mouth as you do so, “I’m so sorry. I didn't think you could get so focused in, like, five minutes.”

“Oh— I— yeah, sorry,” the man snaps back to his senses before his hands are spread out to cover whatever he’s written — not that he needed to. You wouldn’t have peeked anyways, and you both know that well enough: you’d never look unless he asked you to. “Did you need something?”

“Huh?” you question before cursing yourself mentally, because just a fleeting look at Azul could make your mind go completely blank. You quickly shake your head before Azul could elaborate, “no, no! I just… I'm saying yes. To your, uh… invitation.”

“My invi— oh,” Azul’s mouth forms a small “o” as he realizes what you’re referring to; and just like the first time you gave him a response, he’s caught by surprise.

To be honest, he was mentally preparing himself for rejection. Lack of self-confidence aside, he wasn’t sure if you felt the same way he did; whereas he ended his letters with quite corny quotes from romance novels, you missed his hints and always ended yours with quotes from novels in any other genre.

“Is that… okay?” you ask hesitantly when Azul doesn’t say anything else. You can feel your entire body starting to feel warm from embarrassment, the thought that you must have misinterpreted his words hitting you like a brick.

“Y—yeah, of course!” Azul answers a bit too quickly, and the more time passes by, the wider his smile gets and the redder his ears turn. “I’m the one who asked, why are you asking if it’s okay to say ‘yes’?”

“I thought I misinterpreted,” you confess after releasing the breath you were anxiously holding in.

Azul chuckles and places his hands on yours before giving them a reassuring squeeze, “I’m sorry, I was caught off guard. But thank you for agreeing to go out with me.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” your cheeks begin to burn as the cliché phrase leaves your lips. “but um… where are we going? Are you actually going to cook dinner?”

You don’t doubt that the man probably has skills in a kitchen. He owns a restaurant after all, but you’ve never visited before so you’re not sure who actually does all the cooking. Azul merely runs his thumb and index finger across his lips in a zipping motion.

“It’s a surprise!”

❥

The next few days follow in a blur of excitement and expectancy. You’ve tried to ask Azul multiple times for even just a hint of what your plans would be for Friday night, but he stays true to his word of keeping everything a surprise.

So, come Friday, you decide to dress comfortably with a pair of straight leg jeans and an oversized, lilac-toned sweater. It’s simplistic, but when Azul comes to pick you up at the library that night, it seems that the two of you had unintentionally matched — though his sweater is slightly darker in color.

When you first see each other, you point at one-another as if you were the infamous Spider-man meme. Small bursts of laughter leave both of your lips as you decide to make the first move and reach out for his hand.

Without his gloves on, you can feel how clammy Azul’s hand is from nervousness. You don’t mind it very much though, his hand is still very soft and warm and comforting to you. 

“Are you ready?” Azul asks, daring to give your hand the tiniest squeeze.

“Uh, as ready as someone can be when they don’t know where they’re going.”

Azul chuckles as he nods, “okay, fair enough. It’s nowhere bad, I promise. I’m not a serial killer.”

“That sounds exactly like what a serial killer would say in a mystery book, but I’ll trust you.”

“You read way too many crime books,” Azul comments, thinking back to the quotes you’ve written to him in your letters.

“I’d like to say I’ve broadened my horizons just a little bit. Though I never would’ve taken you for such a romantic,” you tease back, smiling sheepishly when the man chokes on his own spit at your words.

“I— uh, I’m most definitely not,” Azul says defensively between coughs, his cheeks reddening though you aren’t sure if it’s because he choked or because he’s actually feeling shy. “It’s just research for my, uh… contract work.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say,” you chuckle, rubbing the man’s back with your free hand until he ceases to cough.

The rest of the walk is blanketed in a comfortable silence, your gaze fixed on the fairy lights decorating the exterior of the school buildings. Once the lights have all but disappeared, your initial thought is that the dark hallways really don’t help Azul’s claim of not being a serial killer. If it’s true, then at least your last sight would be of a handsome man.

A few more minutes pass before you finally set foot inside the familiar Hall of Mirrors, Azul slowly guiding you to the mirror that connects to the Octavinelle dorm.

“You’ve never been to the Mostro Lounge before, have you?” Azul asks when he sees you staring apprehensively at the mirror.

“No, I haven’t.”

“It’s my pleasure to accompany you on your first visit then,” Azul smiles with a hand on his chest. “Hopefully, you’ll enjoy your time tonight so you can come visit again in the future.”

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it since I’m with you, but will the tweels be there tonight? I can only imagine the amount of teasing we’re going to be enduring soon. Not that I mind!” you quickly add before Azul can take that as a sign to cancel.

“Hah, I thought about that too,” Azul mutters, two fingers rubbing circles on his temple as if to fight back an oncoming headache. “But…”

“But?” you tilt your head curiously, prying when Azul refuses to make eye contact with you.

Azul takes a deep breath, mentally willing himself to say possibly the cheesiest thing he’s ever said in his life, “but I don’t mind suffering just a little bit if you’ll be by my side.”

Now it’s your turn to start choking on air. Yeah, he definitely reads way too many romance novels.

❥

When you finally set foot inside the Monstro Lounge, it isn’t quite as busy as you had anticipated it to be. There are just a handful of patrons sitting around, mostly chattering amongst themselves and only momentarily stopping when you and Azul pass by.

It’s peaceful, and you have to wonder why Azul prefers to work in the library as opposed to here. And well, to be fair, it’s only this “slow” tonight due to Azul’s own doing. Ah, the sacrifices on profits he has to make for love.

You place your hand in Azul’s outstretched one after you enter the lounge, shy smiles on both of your faces as you allow him to guide you towards the kitchen. You don’t even notice that Azul hasn’t let go of your hand when you bump into Jade and Floyd.

“Oh, my, what a surprise to see you here, Azul,” Jade calmly says as he bows his head, “and y/n is here too. What a pleasant surprise. Good evening, y/n.”

“Ohhhh? Azul, you didn’t tell us you were bringing over a date tonight,” Floyd grins mischievously, only a second away from springing forward to squeeze you if Jade wasn’t holding on to the back of his shirt. “And it’s the dolphin from the library. Hi, dolphin.”

“H—hello,” you quickly greet the two men, your hand grasping Azul’s tighter in fear of an oncoming squeeze, “I hope we’re not intruding.”

“Not at all. I already told Jade beforehand that we were coming, so we’ll have the place to ourselves in a moment,” Azul answers you, his free hand adjusting the bridge of his glasses. “Please spare me that shocked look, Floyd. You know you’re the last person I would inform of a date.”

“Aw, Azul, you’re a meanie! I wouldn’t have teased you that much, I swear!” Floyd huffs and pouts.

“I can hardly believe that.”

“Now, now, Floyd. Let’s leave the lovebirds alone,” Jade coos, patting his brother on the back before slowly pushing him towards the direction you had just come in from. “Have a wonderful time, y/n. Azul.”

“You’ll be hearing from me later,” Floyd grumbles, pout still very apparent on his face while he reluctantly follows his brother out the door.

With their departure, the kitchen falls eerily silent, safe for the quiet hum of the commercial freezer in the corner. Azul silently lets go of your hand and dares to place a hand on the small of your back instead as he guides you deeper inside.

You’re not surprised by how impeccably clean the kitchen seems to be, surely Azul checks in often to ensure that everything is up to his standards and beyond. But what you are surprised by is the sight that greets you when Azul finally opens a door at the very back of the kitchen.

You’re greeted by the afternoon sunlight streaming through a window that doesn’t seem to belong in an underwater dorm. But there’s no way that you could be hallucinating the sight in front of you.

In the middle of the room is a long, wooden farm table with about four mismatched wooden chairs encompassing it; the wide window sill you saw first is showcasing several small pots that are homes to what you assume to be herbs and vegetables.

Azul notices your awe-filled gaze and retracts his hand, allowing you to roam around the room freely while he heads back to the kitchen to check on tonight’s dinner — courtesy of Jade. The acoustic in the room allows for your voice to be heard loud and clear though you’re technically in separate rooms.

“I didn’t know that they have rooms like this in the Coral Sea,” you say aloud, the tone of your voice conveying that your statement is serious.

“We definitely don’t,” you hear distant Azul’s chuckle and you can mentally picture the kind of smile the man has on his face at the moment. “That room is typically used as storage, but I borrowed a magic projector from Vil a while ago to make it look more home-y for you.”

“It certainly does look like home…” you say to yourself as you slowly take in your surroundings more carefully.

You’re not sure how Azul would know it himself as you’ve never talked to him about it before, but the setting before you — brought by a magic projector or not — does remind you of the dining room from back home. It’s been so long since you’d last seen it that you’d almost forgotten what it looked like.

It’s a kind gesture that brings tears of joy and nostalgia to your eyes.

“Thank you, Azul, this is really thoughtful of you. I don’t have anything to give you in return right now, but… what is it that you wish for, Azul?” you’ve made your way towards the kitchen by now, your shoulder leaning against the doorway as you gaze at the man with a look filled with curiosity.

Azul glances over his shoulders to look at you, his lips curving up into a soft smile as he shrugs, “if I tell you my wish, then it won’t come true.”

You fold your arms and hum in response, “okay, fair enough. I thought you were going to say ‘world domination’.”

“That’s such a plain wish, but I bet younger me would’ve wished for something just like that,” Azul laughs aloud at himself before shaking his head, “I think nowadays my wish is to be more confident in myself and my own abilities.”

You nod in understanding as you recall the brief stories he would share of his childhood. It seems that Azul has gone through so much in a short amount of time, but he’s also changed so much since then.

You walk over to the man and place your hand above his own, the steam from your dinner eventually warming your hand and dampening them as well.

“I think you’re doing a wonderful job right now, and I’m very proud of you,” you smile fondly at Azul, causing his eyes to widen in surprise and his chest to tighten as if he may burst into tears at any moment now.

“T—thank you…” it’s the first time someone has said anything like that to him before, and he’s not sure how he should respond. Right now, he’s only focused on making sure his face isn’t turning as red as Riddle’s.

“Of course! I’ll remind you of that as often as you’d like!”

Just as quickly as his expression changed before, Azul’s face brightens up once more at your response. He turns on his heels, his arms balancing a variety of plates packed with food. You reach out to help alleviate the burden on his arms, but he moves his arms away from your reach before leaning down to get to eye level with you.

“Then I have even more of a reason to be grateful, right? We got to meet each other, and my wishful thinking… may not be such after all.”

Your features crease into a look of confusion at the man’s unexpected words, but when you gaze into his dark grey orbs you can see the sincerity in them.

Unknowingly, the space between your faces starts to become smaller and smaller. Azul’s gaze shifts between your eyes, then your lips, then back up again. But before anything can happen, as if the universe is playing a joke on you, a plate in Azul’s arm shifts ever so slightly and causes the two of you to jump apart.

A rather awkward laugh makes its way past your lips and you hurriedly reach out to grab a few plates from Azul’s arms before he can protest. You don’t say a single word as you set the plates down onto the farm table, your mind too busy screaming a million incoherent thoughts, and Azul follows suit.

“I’m so sorry,” Azul is the first to break the silence once you’ve taken a seat diagonal to each other, on either side of a table corner.

“What? Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head while simultaneously waving your hands. Your fingers slowly curve into loose fists that you rest atop your lap, the small smile on your face mirroring Azul’s own.

“Do you… know why I asked you out tonight?” Azul hesitantly asks, a quiet sigh leaving his lips when you shake your head ‘no’. “Well, it’s just that I realized that we’ve spent most of our time together in the library— well, in fact, I have never seen you outside of the library. It finally occurred to me that I might be making you feel like you don’t matter outside of that space. Which you do!”

“I don’t feel that way though…” you try to reassure him, but it seems like your words only enter one ear and exit the other as he continues to speak.

“I’ve truly enjoyed exchanging all those letters with you and being able to connect through our shared love for books. But, if you don’t mind, I’d like to start seeing you outside of that too.”

It doesn’t take you long to process the situation and, to your utmost surprise, your heart isn’t hammering in your chest like you think it should. Instead your entire body feels comfortably warm and you have the overwhelming urge to embrace Azul.

At this point, you’ve garnered enough courage to do just that.

You stand up and quickly make your way over to him, your arms immediately wrapping themselves around Azul’s shoulders while your face hides in the crook of his neck. It takes a moment for him to respond, but Azul’s arms eventually find their place around your waist to press your body firmly against his.

“You’re such an idiot, Azul,” you mutter after what feels like an eternity has passed.

Your words cause the man’s lower lip to jut out into a pout, and he leans back ever so slightly so he can look at your face; you almost whine when the warmth of Azul’s body leaves you.

“Why am I an idiot?” Azul inquires, a hand moving to tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“Because… if I really felt that way then I never would have kept reciprocating for so long. It doesn’t matter if we spent all that time in one place because it never got boring or tiring with you around,” you pause to flash a fond smile at Azul. “And even now, I’m having the time of my life just being here in your presence. Is that too corny to say? It’s the truth though.”

Azul chuckles in amusement while shaking his head, “it’s not corny. I think.”

It’s the first time that you’ve been so straightforward without getting flustered, and he’s not sure where your sudden courage came from.

Not that he’s complaining about it though.

When you two first met, you could barely hold a conversation with him for more than a minute. While he did feel a pang of disappointment every time, he never took it personally — especially not after seeing you interact with other students in a similar manner.

You caught him off guard when you finally approached him first, weeks after your first correspondences, though your cheeks were permanently warm while you tried your best to converse with him.

He found you adorable, like a newborn seal pup being introduced to the world for the first time.

Azul has always enjoyed your company since the beginning, whereas he’d prefer to be left alone to work in the past. But then he found himself going back to the library time and time again, until it became a regular occurrence.

He admittedly never got a lot of studying done when he was at the library — at least, not at the times when he accompanied you on your daily runs to shelve book returns.

Azul’s still not sure when his feelings developed beyond those of curiosity and friendship.

Perhaps it was when you could finally meet his eyes and hold contact, allowing him to gaze deep into your eyes that always seemed to sparkle with light and joy.

Or perhaps it was when he told you a dad joke so bad that it actually made you burst into a fit of giggles that left you breathless — the mere sight of you smiling gleefully tugging at his heartstrings in the best way.

Regardless of the when, where, why, and how’s, Azul is certain of his feelings for you.

“I wonder if this is how Benedick and Beatrice felt when they finally agreed to marry,” you comment, breaking through Azul’s thoughts.

Azul nearly snorts at your remark, “B—Benedick and Beatrice? You mean the ones from “Much Ado About Nothing”?”

“Yeah… why?”

The man laughs after your confirmation, your cheeks being partially squished between his palms as he brings your faces closer together until the tips of your noses are almost touching, “no offense — I adore that beautiful mind of yours — but I don’t think those two exactly exude the idea of ‘wholesome’.”

“But think of the relief they must’ve felt after they didn’t have to pretend they didn’t love each other anymore.”

“So, you love me?” Azul quirks an eyebrow up challengingly.

“Wh— you’re taking that too literally,” you grumble with a fist hitting the man’s chest gently, though the way you avoid his eyes and your cheeks are flushed tells him that he may be somewhere on the right path.

“Then… do you like me?” Azul inquires, and you can see the mischievous glint in his eyes when you finally meet them.

“Do we really have to say that out loud after we already did our monologues?”

“I want to hear it from you. Please.”

You swallow the small lump in your throat, though that’s the only sign of nervousness in your entire body.

You find it fascinating how quickly your body’s reactions change whenever Azul is around. There’s a sense of nerves and shyness when you’re in the midst of new experiences, but it just as quickly changes to feelings of calmness because the man brings you such a sense of comfort you never expected.

Just like how the lump in your throat dissipates and leaves you to gaze at Azul with complete fondness.

There’s not a moment of hesitation before your whispered confession of “I truly like you, Azul Ashengrotto.” hangs in the air.

Just those simple words of affirmation make Azul’s entire face light up, the sight of his bright smile making you feel like you were standing in the middle of a field and soaking in the warm summer sunlight.

“And I like you, y/n.”

Your bodies act as if on muscle memory, Azul’s face tilting ever so slightly while your eyes flutter shut. You’re not sure who closes the distance first. Perhaps it was both of you moving simultaneously, but your lips eventually meet in a fleeting and gentle kiss.

There were no fireworks igniting behind your eyelids like they’d described in the countless books you’ve read, but it still leaves you feeling lightheaded. Like you’re melting into Azul’s arms. Like there’s only the two of you alone in this vast world.

When you pull apart, the two of you giggle like schoolgirls but the action isn’t fueled by feelings of awkwardness or nervousness. You both gaze at each other with eyes full of admiration and budding feelings of love, the feelings that were hidden before from fear of being rejected finally bubbling up to the surface.

You’ve long forgotten about the now-cold plates of food sitting in front of you; opting to spend the rest of the night exchanging even more gentle kisses and whispered sweet nothings.

❥

The dynamics of your relationship with Azul hardly changed after you confirmed your feelings for one-another, and you truly feel grateful that there was no pressure on you to act differently.

Of course, now there were a lot more lingering touches, your fingers almost always intertwined if there was nothing to keep them busy. You’d even sneak brief kisses behind the cover of bookshelves when you thought no one was looking.

Even if neither of you were a fan of P.D.A., you made an exception for each other. 

Nothing was made official between the two of you after that fateful night, as Azul opted to wait another half a year before asking you to be his partner.

You didn’t mind his decision to take things slow. You both wanted to make sure that your feelings for each other weren’t just illusions brought forth by letters on paper — though you knew that wasn’t the case anyways.

When he felt that the time was right, Azul asked the question in the best way that he knew how to: through book spines. Though unlike how he’d asked you on your “first date,” Azul didn’t shy away after dropping the books off.

He’d waited patiently for you to have some time to spare for him, his chin resting atop his folded arms at the checkout counter as he watched you help patron after patron check out books.

“I have something for you,” Azul could hardly contain his excitement when you finally turned to him and let him know you were free.

“What is it?”

You felt a sense of déjà vu watching Azul dig into his backpack and pull out a stack of books. He placed them down on the counter with the book spines facing you, and you’d half-expected him to walk away like before.

But he stayed there; his eyes curved into double rainbows coupled with a sweet smile, and his hands trembling ever so slightly in nervousness.

Will by [redacted] You by [redacted] Bees by [redacted] Mine by [redacted]

You had to hold back the squeal that was threatening to escape your larynx when you finally looked away from Azul long enough to read his message. Your mind already went over the fact that Azul had to substitute the word “be” with “bees” and you nodded so hard Azul thought your head might fly off.

Now it’s been exactly a year since you two made your relationship official. In the year you’ve spent as a couple — and even before then — you’d fallen into a pleasant routine.

During the weekdays, while you’re working at the library, Azul would be studying in his usual spot in the corner of the second story. After some time, he’d suspiciously stopped asking you to proofread his work.

Every Friday night, he would try out new dinner recipes and you would be in charge of baking dessert — and you wonder how his kitchen has managed to stay so spotless after all this time.

Sometimes you would invite Epel, Ace, and Deuce to come over too, and the first time your friends agreed to come, they were appalled by how sweet you and Azul were; but they secretly loved seeing you genuinely happy in this strange new world.

Saturday’s were reserved for the show-and-tell of Azul’s enormous coin collection, with the latter recalling stories of when he found them on solo adventures in the Coral Sea. When you asked why he had so many, Azul explained that they help with his memory and it’s exciting to learn of the history behind especially old coins. You can’t argue with him there.

Sunday’s are for those who may say that your relationship seems too mundane. You both agreed to do something new during this day, may it be something as small as feeding ducks near the pond or as adventure packed as tagging along with Jade on his strolls in the mountains.

Either way, you always ended the day cuddling up next to each other in Azul’s bedroom.

The collections of books in this world are endless, and you’ve made it a habit to take turns reading aloud to each other until you both fell asleep late into the night.

But this Sunday, the exact day of your one-year anniversary with Azul, the man had asked if you could stay at home. Your homebody-self answered “yes” without hesitation.

It’s already nightfall by the time you find yourselves stuffed with dinner and cake and situated under the wooden pergola illuminated by Vil’s borrowed magic projector. Your comfortable silence is accompanied by the soothing chirping of crickets and a night sky sprinkled with the brightest stars.

“Happy anniversary, angel,” Azul says with a warm smile before bringing your hands up to press tender kisses along your knuckles.

“Angel”: it’s a hypocorism that Azul has grown fond of calling you by. When he first started to call you as such, you found it amusing because it’s a name that better suits him.

“Happy anniversary, darling,” your smile mirrors Azul’s own, a quiet giggle escaping your lips when his lips tickle your skin.

It’s a wonder that time has passed so quickly.

It felt like just yesterday you saw Azul entering the library, with not a single clue as to who he was — and now here you are, more than positive that you’re in love with the man sitting in front of you.

“I love you”: it’s a sentence that has remained unspoken between the two of you. Not because you don’t love each other, because even a jellyfish could see that you do, but because neither of you ever felt the need to verbalize those feelings.

Until now.

“Azul,” you call out, waiting until he glances up and hums in response. “I love you.”

A minute of silence follows, then two, then three, and as more time passes on, you can feel a sense of panic growing stronger in the pit of your stomach.

Had you thought wrong? Did you just jump the gun when Azul didn’t feel as strongly for you as you did for him?

“I have something for you,” Azul’s soothing voice cuts through your anxious thoughts.

You try to ignore the pang of disappointment that accompanies your panic.

He didn’t say it back.

“What is it?” you ask, your voice sounding weak.

“Close your eyes.”

You do as you’re told, keeping your eyes closed as Azul lets go of your hands. You can hear him rummaging around for something, and you have to wonder what it could be.

Your eyes only open again when Azul gives you the okay to.

Azul places what appears to be a manuscript atop your lap, and you look at him with a puzzled expression on your face as you pick the bundle of papers up, ”what is this?”

“I didn’t tell you this before because I was too embarrassed, but I decided to try writing a book of my own,” Azul chuckles, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m getting close to done. I just wanted you to see it first, even though I know you hate spoilers.”

“I absolutely do,” you declare as you roll your eyes in a playful manner.

“I know, I know, but…” Azul bites on his lower lip, his voice trailing off as he contemplates how to word his next sentence. “I’m better at writing out my feelings than I am verbally expressing it, and I’ve included it here. I’d love for you to read it first before the rest of the world.”

“I think you’re better at expressing your feelings aloud than you think you are, darling.”

You can’t deny that you feel honored to have Azul regard you highly enough to have you be the first to read his nearly completed work. Sure, you’ve spent hours proofreading essays and the like before, but this felt different.

Azul’s hands are clasped together tightly enough to make his skin appear a few shades lighter, anxiety coursing through his body as he watches you flip to the first page of the manuscript where the dedication page is. He’s not sure why he feels that way when he knows exactly how you feel about him.

Your eyes and mind slowly take in the words written on the page.

Were you suddenly hallucinating sweet words onto paper? A quick glance up at Azul tells you no.

His written feelings bring tears of happiness to the corners of your eyes, and it takes all your willpower to not throw your arms around the man and kiss him right then and there.

To my muse, my angel, my wonderful y/n, You know what people say about meeting your soulmate? It feels like you’re at home the moment you meet them. I think they’re right, because while the sight of your beautiful smile makes my heart race, you also make me feel safe and comfortable. It’s like one look from you lifts the weight of the world off my shoulders, like there’s absolutely nothing for me to worry about. Without you, I would never have experienced things and feelings that I thought were only possible in books. It’s with our fond memories in mind that I write this book. Thank you. Thank you for choosing to spend your days with me. Thank you for being a beacon of support during the times I was clouded with self-doubt and during the times I wasn’t. I love you. “Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.” - E.E. Cummings