#his many reasons for being honest i think stem from his childhood on the streets and not being able to trust virtually anyone so he wantsto

[musingmycelium]

ok also mourning is also an Honest To Fault person i do not think this boy can lie to save his life and i think he would rather gut himself than try. im not sure Why exactly he feels so strongly about it (so many reasons on top of one another) but he really does. mourning values honesty and straighforward to the point talking and will be super blunt when hes not wisecracking. which. another interesting little contradictory this man is seemingly built like a maze

[tsukkisbean]

Congratulations on 500! Can I get A3 with Kuroo, please?

beep beep...a3 detected...thunk!

your item has arrived, thank you for using tsukkibean’s vending machine! we hope to see you again in the future!

pairing: kuroo x gn!reader

genre: angst, rich kid!au

warnings: sad kuroo

word count:1181

prompt: a3. “i don’t need you to succeed” 

a/n: (1) i’m sorry this was an angst please don’t hate me I FELT SO HORRIBLE AFTER YOU SENT AN ASK TELLING ME HOW YOU HOPED KUROO WASN’T ANGST 😭 (2)  there’s a hamilton reference in there so if y’all catch that ily. (3) the hecatoncheires is a creature from greek mythology with 100 hands, don’t ask me how to pronounce it (4) THANK YOU KAT FOR BETA READING <3

kuroo wasn’t afraid of much, yet something about the dark chilled him to the bone. until now he’d been able to convince himself that his fears probably stemmed from some sort of childhood trauma. maybe it was because of that old oak tree outside his window that looked eerily similar to the hecatoncheires. or the fact that he’d watched one too many horror movies past sundown. though plausible options, both were very much incorrect. 

blindly he searches for his phone hidden among the sea of pillows. once in his grasp, the sickeningly bright screen tells him it’s 2:30am. right on time.

today marks the 365th night in which his slumber had become plagued with nightmares. each dream was always different, yet they all ended the exact same way, waking him at the exact same time. it was the cruel way his mind reminded him of his past mistakes.

removing himself from the warmth of his blankets, he makes his way through the empty halls towards his study. it’s become a sort of routine for him, writing down each nightmare just as he remembered them. he hoped that maybe by compartmentalizing his feelings, he’d be able to understand what triggered the onset of nightmares.

but tonight he decides to try something different. once seated at his desk, pen in hand, his hand begins to race across the page.

to my dearest, y/n

did you notice where i placed the comma? i’m sure you would. after all, you were always the one that said the placement of a comma can change the entire meaning of a sentence.

it feels unsettling, writing to you like this. i guess it’s because i haven’t really gotten over the fact that you’re no longer with me. but if i remember correctly (who am i trying to kid, i would never forget this), you were always a sucker for these type of things - sappy love letters that is.

so that’s what this is i guess. my last love letter to you.

where do i begin? “from the beginning” you’d probably say. i miss your sarcasm. 

if i’m being honest, i wasn’t too fond of the idea of meeting you, but i’m sure you felt the same.  after all, who wants to get stuck in a business marriage, especially in this day and age? plus meeting your future partner in the spring, how cliché. 

thank god my friends were at that dinner though, right? youth these days really know how to lighten up the atmosphere. at least them being there gave me the chance to tell you my nifty chemistry joke. do you remember how it went? i’ll tell you again anyways: why did carbon marry hydrogen? they bonded well from the minute they met. don’t think i didn’t see you try not to choke on your water.

i consider our second meeting our first date. i went in with the expectation that it would be purely business talk and it’d be over within the hour. but then you showed up all out of breath in a casual outfit, hair stuck to your sweaty forehead from the summer heat. from a ways away i could see your caretakers, in a panic trying to catch up to you. you pointed into the distance, trying to distract my bodyguard and despite being a trained professional, they fell for it. how thrilling it was to run through the busy streets of tokyo with you, escaping our obligations even if it was only for a few hours.

even to this day i’m not sure if you meant to drag me along because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings or because you wanted me by your side. whatever the reason, i’m glad you did because that was probably the most fun i had in awhile. i missed feeling like i had the freedom to do anything i wanted. it can get tiresome, you know? acting like the perfect child. who am i kidding, you know that better than anyone.

our relationship only spiraled from then on, and soon enough the leaves began to change colour. everyday you showed me a new way to live my life, and so it didn’t take me long to figure out that i’d fallen for you. i can’t tell you how happy i was when you agreed to marry me on your own accord. i’ll admit the way i asked you was kind of cheesy, but can you blame a guy? you were the hydrogen to my carbon. a relationship formed out of obligation, only to become something so much more meaningful. we were made to last.

you know, i’ve been having nightmares since you left. i’ve tried to tell myself it’s just a phase, that eventually things will go back to normal. but after 365 days i think i can finally admit that i hate the night not because i’m afraid of the dark but because it leaves me vulnerable and exposed to my own demons. 

my nightmares start out different but they always end in the same way. all i can see is your figure, walking into the distance. no matter how hard i run, how loud i scream, you never look back. but today was different. i wanted to wake up so bad, i couldn’t live through this scene. not again. 

this time you did turn back, the words you spoke held so much resentment and anger, “i don’t need you to succeed”. your eyes burned with so much hatred, it was probably enough to melt the snow. my heart is still aching as i write this. it was exactly like the day you left me.

i’m sorry i lashed out at you when you said you wanted to be a writer. you were always the more optimistic one between us, and i was always jealous of you for that. when you suggested we pack up and leave - that we start anew and do the things we really wanted to do, i wanted to. i swear. 

you were right to call me a coward. i was scared of leaving the life that was so meticulously planned out for me. i thought i owed it to my parents to inherit their company, to carry on the family legacy. i thought i could provide you with the best life possible if i did everything they told me. i was afraid that if i took that leap of faith only to fall flat on my face, you’d leave me. funny how things work out. truth is, all i needed was you by my side.

you know i attended your book signing yesterday. you looked so happy, chatting with your fans about your newest release. i don’t think you saw me, and even if you did, you probably pretended not to recognize me. after seeing you yesterday, i realized something.

y/n, you were wrong to say you didn’t need me. i like to think that i created that fire within you by calling your dreams childish.

and it’s going to haunt me forever. 

forever yours, kuroo

[fanficshiddles]

As thick as thieves, Chapter 2

Josephine was stunned, she couldn’t get her feet to move as she gazed upon the suited man on front of her.

Loki was just as stunned, but as always he managed to keep his cool and turned on his charm as he stood up.

‘Well, this is a lovely surprise.’ He grinned happily as he walked over to her.

‘I… I had no idea.’ Josephine stuttered out once he reached her.

‘Well, are you going to just stand there or are you going to give me a hug?’ Loki teased and opened his arms wide.

Josephine’s mouth was open in shock still as she stepped forward and embraced him.

The assistant was still hovering at the door, looking more shocked than either of them at Loki’s affection towards the woman. Loki wasn’t known for being an affectionate man, at all. But it seemed that Josephine was the exception.

‘Leave us, Anne.’ Loki barked at the assistant, who jumped and quickly left, shutting the door behind her.

‘So this is your company? That’s… Incredible! Checks you being all bossy and rich!’ Josephine smirked as she looked up at him.

‘Yes.’ Loki chuckled. ‘Built it up from the ground 8 years ago. Moving to London was the best decision I ever made. What brings you to London?’ Loki asked as he motioned for her to sit down on the chair opposite his large oak desk as he sat down on his leather chair.

‘I came here about 3 years ago on a weekend away with my friend, Heather. You remember her?’

‘Ah yes. Totally wild girl, up for anything.’ Loki laughed.

‘Yeah, that’s her! Well, when we were here, I um... I met someone. So a year later I found a job here and moved. Decided I wanted a better job to go further, so that’s why I am here now.’ Josephine said with a smile.

‘Who’d have thought that, what, 9 years later? Old school friends would be re-united in the work place?’ Loki grinned.

‘10 years, actually.’ Josephine corrected him.

‘10 years, yes. You were always amazing with your memory and numbers.’ Loki chuckled. ‘So who’s the lucky man, then?’ He asked, half wanting to know and half not.

‘He’s called Brian. He works at the hospital, mainly in the ambulance.’ Josephine said.

Loki nodded. He was surprised with how jealous he actually felt. He knew it was wrong of him, because he hadn’t had contact with Josephine for 10 years. Of course she would find someone, she was a beautiful woman. But it still felt like a small stab to his heart knowing that his childhood sweetheart was now married to someone else.

‘Any lucky ladies in your life?’ Josephine asked.

‘Unfortunately not. I’ve put most of my time and effort into this damn place. I haven’t had much of a social life actually since leaving school.’ Loki sighed.

‘I guess we did enough socialising back then to make up for a lifetime.’ Josephine laughed, so did Loki as he agreed.

‘Very true. I always remember rather fondly of that time we all went camping by the lake one summer. And you were so drunk that you went skinny dipping. But forgot you couldn’t actually swim, so I had to come and rescue you.’ Loki grinned mischievously.

‘Oh my god.’ Josephine put her face into her hands as she laughed. ‘I forgot about that! That was so embarrassing. You were my hero, again!’

‘Yes, I often seemed to be saving you one way or another.’ Loki chuckled.

‘From the bullies was definitely the best one. My first few weeks of being at a new school had been pure hell till you came along. Then I was suddenly thrust into the cool kids group.’ She smiled as she thought back fondly.

‘Then there was that time we were skiving class and got caught smoking. I took all the blame to save you from getting into too much trouble, you still owe me for that.’ Loki raised an eyebrow at her.

‘To be fair, that was your fault anyway!’ Josephine laughed.

‘Was not. You followed me like a puppy, I didn’t force you to.’ Loki grinned.

‘True. You were like my idol back then. I think everyone looked up to you, to be honest. All the girls were always throwing themselves at you.’

‘Perhaps. But you were the only one I allowed to get close to me. My Josie. I remember our friends always teasing us about that. We were quite the team back then.’ Loki smiled.

‘Yeah we were.’ Josephine smiled too. ‘Do you still have issues with other people touching you or getting too close?’

Ever since she could remember, Loki always hated people touching him. Apart from her. She was the only one that could hug him or touch him in general without him flinching or freaking out. He had been abused as a child by his mother. That’s where it stemmed from, he was sure of it. And also why he hated seeing bullies at school.

But for some reason, he liked Josephine’s touch. She was the only one... And still was judging by the hug at the start.

‘I do, yes. Luckily most of my employees know not to touch me. I think it’s something that I will just never grow out of.’ He shrugged. ‘I have a few friends that I don’t mind now, but it took a few years.’

‘That’s good. And it’s bound to be something that will always have an effect on you in some way.’ Josephine said softly.

‘It is… Anyway, we best get down to business, eh?’ Loki said as he straightened up in his chair.

‘Yep. That is why I’m here.’

Loki put on his business head and interviewed her just like he would anyone else. Even if deep down he wanted to jump over the moon because he was so happy to see her again.

‘Well, Josie. I’m not just saying this because you’re my friend. But you are without doubt the best candidate. And I am going to offer you the job. If you think you can handle me being your boss.’ Loki winked at her.

Josephine couldn’t stop the big grin from forming on her face.

‘I would love to! Thank you so so much.’ She said excitedly as they both stood up and shook hands.

‘Excellent. How are you fixed for tonight, we could have a few drinks to celebrate and catch up?’ Loki suggested.

‘I’m so sorry. I have plans.’ Josephine said sadly.

‘Of course. Silly of me, you are married now after all.’ Loki said with a forced smile.

‘I could do Friday night though?’ Josephine suggested with a smile.

‘That would be wonderful.’ Loki nodded. ‘I will see you tomorrow bright and early for your first day.’

After she left, Loki thought back to when they were young. She was right in saying that he was her rescuer on many occasions, but she also saved him in such a way that he didn’t know what he would have done without her… Josephine was about to go to sleep when she heard tapping on her bedroom window. She rushed over and opened the curtains, seeing Loki there. A saddened and broken 13 year old.

‘She hit you again?’ She asked and Loki only had to give her a small nod, trying not to cry.

She opened the window wider and helped him to climb inside. She knew that he only trusted her and he always went to her when he needed comfort or somewhere safe to go. Where he knew that no one would judge him for not being tough.

They both slept together on her bed. She held him in her arms and they drifted off to sleep together. It was becoming a monthly occurrence because of Loki’s mother.

Josephine continued being Loki’s safe haven, where he knew he was always safe and secure. Until he moved in with his father when he was 15, getting away from the abuse forever.

Josephine was on cloud nine as she walked home. What were the chances of not only getting a fantastic job, but also meeting an old friend again? She was so happy. Every day she thought about Loki and wondered what he was up to. They had shared a lot as children/teenagers and spent a lot of time together. She had been pretty sad about losing contact with him.

But she was super happy that he was now back in her life.

When she got home, Brian was at work. So she decided to cook dinner and she had a glass of wine to celebrate while she cooked.

‘Something smells good.’ Brian said as he walked into the kitchen.

‘I hope you like it.’ She smiled and turned to face him.

‘Wine?’ He questioned as he saw the wine glass next to her. She felt her stomach drop slightly, she wasn’t sure why, but she felt like she was a kid being caught with something she shouldn’t have.

‘Yes... I got the job!’ Josephine smiled.

‘You did? That’s wonderful.’ Brian said half-heartedly as he kissed her on the lips.

‘Dinner will be another ten minutes. Do you want some wine?’ Josephine offered.

‘No thanks. Are you having another?’ He asked as he looked at her, she could see the disapproval in his eyes and it made her feel funny.

‘I was going to, yes.’ Josephine nodded.

‘Right.’ Brian said as he walked out of the kitchen to go get changed.

Josephine wasn’t sure what that was about. But she decided to put the wine away instead.

‘Shh, we don’t want to get caught.’ Loki whispered to Josephine as they hid behind the wall in the churchyard.

They had bottles of vodka and whiskey and were avoiding being seen. The police were doing the rounds in their village so they were hiding from them. As they were underage after all and shouldn’t be drinking, especially on the street.

Loki took off his jacket and put it on the ground for her to sit on. He was a gentleman, even as a teen.

‘What if they catch us?’ Josephine whispered as they got comfortable.

‘They won’t. I won’t let them get you. Here, have some of this.’ Loki assured her and draped his arm around her shoulder as he handed her the bottle of vodka.

She giggled before taking a swig, pulling a face afterwards.

‘Not like it?’ Loki chuckled.

‘It burns a bit.’ She laughed.

‘Don’t drink it if you don’t want to.’ Loki said, about to take the bottle back.

‘No, no. I want to.’ She smiled and held tight to the bottle, making Loki laugh.

Josephine always felt safe with Loki, no matter what mischief they got up to. And part of her couldn’t stop thinking about the fact she felt safe and weirdly like she was ‘home’ when they hugged in his office… It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in ten years.

She was still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

[imagine-loki]

As thick as thieves, Chapter 2

TITLE: As thick as thieves CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 2 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you were in the same school as Loki and you met when he saved you from bullies. You became the best of friends throughout secondary school, always getting up to mischief and into trouble. You both had a crush on one another when you were in your mid teens, but it never went further than an innocent kiss…

RATING: M

Josephine was stunned, she couldn’t get her feet to move as she gazed upon the suited man on front of her.

Loki was just as stunned, but as always he managed to keep his cool and turned on his charm as he stood up.

‘Well, this is a lovely surprise.’ He grinned happily as he walked over to her.

‘I… I had no idea.’ Josephine stuttered out once he reached her.

‘Well, are you going to just stand there or are you going to give me a hug?’ Loki teased and opened his arms wide.

Josephine’s mouth was open in shock still as she stepped forward and embraced him.

The assistant was still hovering at the door, looking more shocked than either of them at Loki’s affection towards the woman. Loki wasn’t known for being an affectionate man, at all. But it seemed that Josephine was the exception.

‘Leave us, Anne.’ Loki barked at the assistant, who jumped and quickly left, shutting the door behind her.

‘So this is your company? That’s… Incredible! Checks you being all bossy and rich!’ Josephine smirked as she looked up at him.

‘Yes.’ Loki chuckled. ‘Built it up from the ground 8 years ago. Moving to London was the best decision I ever made. What brings you to London?’ Loki asked as he motioned for her to sit down on the chair opposite his large oak desk as he sat down on his leather chair.

‘I came here about 3 years ago on a weekend away with my friend, Heather. You remember her?’

‘Ah yes. Totally wild girl, up for anything.’ Loki laughed.

‘Yeah, that’s her! Well, when we were here, I um… I met someone. So a year later I found a job here and moved. Decided I wanted a better job to go further, so that’s why I am here now.’ Josephine said with a smile.

‘Who’d have thought that, what, 9 years later? Old school friends would be re-united in the work place?’ Loki grinned.

‘10 years, actually.’ Josephine corrected him.

‘10 years, yes. You were always amazing with your memory and numbers.’ Loki chuckled. ‘So who’s the lucky man, then?’ He asked, half wanting to know and half not.

‘He’s called Brian. He works at the hospital, mainly in the ambulance.’ Josephine said.

Loki nodded. He was surprised with how jealous he actually felt. He knew it was wrong of him, because he hadn’t had contact with Josephine for 10 years. Of course she would find someone, she was a beautiful woman. But it still felt like a small stab to his heart knowing that his childhood sweetheart was now married to someone else.

‘Any lucky ladies in your life?’ Josephine asked.

‘Unfortunately not. I’ve put most of my time and effort into this damn place. I haven’t had much of a social life actually since leaving school.’ Loki sighed.

‘I guess we did enough socialising back then to make up for a lifetime.’ Josephine laughed, so did Loki as he agreed.

‘Very true. I always remember rather fondly of that time we all went camping by the lake one summer. And you were so drunk that you went skinny dipping. But forgot you couldn’t actually swim, so I had to come and rescue you.’ Loki grinned mischievously.

‘Oh my god.’ Josephine put her face into her hands as she laughed. ‘I forgot about that! That was so embarrassing. You were my hero, again!’

‘Yes, I often seemed to be saving you one way or another.’ Loki chuckled.

‘From the bullies was definitely the best one. My first few weeks of being at a new school had been pure hell till you came along. Then I was suddenly thrust into the cool kids group.’ She smiled as she thought back fondly.

‘Then there was that time we were skiving class and got caught smoking. I took all the blame to save you from getting into too much trouble, you still owe me for that.’ Loki raised an eyebrow at her.

‘To be fair, that was yourfault anyway!’ Josephine laughed.

‘Was not. You followed me like a puppy, I didn’t force you to.’ Loki grinned.

‘True. You were like my idol back then. I think everyone looked up to you, to be honest. All the girls were always throwing themselves at you.’

‘Perhaps. But you were the only one I allowed to get close to me. My Josie. I remember our friends always teasing us about that. We were quite the team back then.’ Loki smiled.

‘Yeah we were.’ Josephine smiled too. ‘Do you still have issues with other people touching you or getting too close?’

Ever since she could remember, Loki always hated people touching him. Apart from her. She was the only one that could hug him or touch him in general without him flinching or freaking out. He had been abused as a child by his mother. That’s where it stemmed from, he was sure of it. And also why he hated seeing bullies at school.

But for some reason, he liked Josephine’s touch. She was the only one… And still was judging by the hug at the start.

‘I do, yes. Luckily most of my employees know not to touch me. I think it’s something that I will just never grow out of.’ He shrugged. ‘I have a few friends that I don’t mind now, but it took a few years.’

‘That’s good. And it’s bound to be something that will always have an effect on you in some way.’ Josephine said softly.

‘It is… Anyway, we best get down to business, eh?’ Loki said as he straightened up in his chair.

‘Yep. That is why I’m here.’

Loki put on his business head and interviewed her just like he would anyone else. Even if deep down he wanted to jump over the moon because he was so happy to see her again.

‘Well, Josie. I’m not just saying this because you’re my friend. But you are without doubt the best candidate. And I am going to offer you the job. If you think you can handle me being your boss.’ Loki winked at her.

Josephine couldn’t stop the big grin from forming on her face.

‘I would love to! Thank you so so much.’ She said excitedly as they both stood up and shook hands.

‘Excellent. How are you fixed for tonight, we could have a few drinks to celebrate and catch up?’ Loki suggested.

‘I’m so sorry. I have plans.’ Josephine said sadly.

���Of course. Silly of me, you are married now after all.’ Loki said with a forced smile.

‘I could do Friday night though?’ Josephine suggested with a smile.

‘That would be wonderful.’ Loki nodded. ‘I will see you tomorrow bright and early for your first day.’

After she left, Loki thought back to when they were young. She was right in saying that he was her rescuer on many occasions, but she also saved him in such a way that he didn’t know what he would have done without her… Josephine was about to go to sleep when she heard tapping on her bedroom window. She rushed over and opened the curtains, seeing Loki there. A saddened and broken 13 year old.

‘She hit you again?’ She asked and Loki only had to give her a small nod, trying not to cry.

She opened the window wider and helped him to climb inside. She knew that he only trusted her and he always went to her when he needed comfort or somewhere safe to go. Where he knew that no one would judge him for not being tough.

They both slept together on her bed. She held him in her arms and they drifted off to sleep together. It was becoming a monthly occurrence because of Loki’s mother.

Josephine continued being Loki’s safe haven, where he knew he was always safe and secure. Until he moved in with his father when he was 15, getting away from the abuse forever.

Josephine was on cloud nine as she walked home. What were the chances of not only getting a fantastic job, but also meeting an old friend again? She was so happy. Every day she thought about Loki and wondered what he was up to. They had shared a lot as children/teenagers and spent a lot of time together. She had been pretty sad about losing contact with him.

But she was super happy that he was now back in her life.

When she got home, Brian was at work. So she decided to cook dinner and she had a glass of wine to celebrate while she cooked.

‘Something smells good.’ Brian said as he walked into the kitchen.

‘I hope you like it.’ She smiled and turned to face him.

‘Wine?’ He questioned as he saw the wine glass next to her. She felt her stomach drop slightly, she wasn’t sure why, but she felt like she was a kid being caught with something she shouldn’t have.

‘Yes… I got the job!’ Josephine smiled.

‘You did? That’s wonderful.’ Brian said half-heartedly as he kissed her on the lips.

‘Dinner will be another ten minutes. Do you want some wine?’ Josephine offered.

‘No thanks. Are you having another?’ He asked as he looked at her, she could see the disapproval in his eyes and it made her feel funny.

‘I was going to, yes.’ Josephine nodded.

‘Right.’ Brian said as he walked out of the kitchen to go get changed.

Josephine wasn’t sure what that was about. But she decided to put the wine away instead.

‘Shh, we don’t want to get caught.’ Loki whispered to Josephine as they hid behind the wall in the churchyard.

They had bottles of vodka and whiskey and were avoiding being seen. The police were doing the rounds in their village so they were hiding from them. As they were underage after all and shouldn’t be drinking, especially on the street.

Loki took off his jacket and put it on the ground for her to sit on. He was a gentleman, even as a teen.

‘What if they catch us?’ Josephine whispered as they got comfortable.

‘They won’t. I won’t let them get you. Here, have some of this.’ Loki assured her and draped his arm around her shoulder as he handed her the bottle of vodka.

She giggled before taking a swig, pulling a face afterwards.

‘Not like it?’ Loki chuckled.

‘It burns a bit.’ She laughed.

‘Don’t drink it if you don’t want to.’ Loki said, about to take the bottle back.

‘No, no. I want to.’ She smiled and held tight to the bottle, making Loki laugh.

Josephine always felt safe with Loki, no matter what mischief they got up to. And part of her couldn’t stop thinking about the fact she felt safe and weirdly like she was ‘home’ when they hugged in his office… It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in ten years.

She was still trying to figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

[jewish-privilege]

September 25, 2017 -- Later this week, the March for Racial Justice will—I hope—choke the streets of our nation’s capital. If the current momentum against President Trump can be channeled to full potency, I believe it could be the most significant display of public fury on issues of race and inequality since Martin Luther King’s march on Washington in 1963.

Sadly, I won’t be there. I can’t be there.

I’ve attended a handful of rallies since Trump ascended in January. The largest was the Women’s’ March in D.C. the day after inauguration. As empowered as I felt that weekend, I knew I was there as a supporting actor: That day belonged to women. I had my own existential fears about the incoming administration, but I was there to support others—and did so consciously, so as not to coopt their stage.

The Racial Justice March, however, would be unreservedly a day for me to express my experience—mine and the millions of people of color like me. The time to wear out my shoes and lose my voice, to stand with the like-minded on a national and world stage and tell the current administration exactly why and how its values—to the extent that it even has any—are anathema to me.

It wouldn’t have been my first foray into demonstration. My Jewish progressive mother and my Black working-class father had me attending events before I could walk. My childhood was filled with Civil Rights-era hymns and folk songs, learned both at my Brooklyn daycare center and my Yiddish leftist summer camp. I spent many weekends on buses down to Washington attending peace and human rights rallies that I mostly didn’t understand.

As I was growing up, the names Amadou Diallou, Abner Louima and Sean Bell rang in my ears. The only time I remember seeing my father scared was when he spoke about the murder of Patrick Dorismond and how easily it could have happened to him. My father had a set number of emotions he would display regularly: Fear—until that moment—had not been one of them.

And then it happened to me. I and others in my generation witnessed the murders of Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, and Eric Garner. I felt the same fear, the same terror—and the same need to make my voice heard.

But in a cruel twist of intersectional fate, the march has been scheduled to coincide with Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish Calendar—which means I and many of my racially conscious Jewish Comrades will be unable to take part.

***

In the summer of 2016, Trump was running for president—but at that point it seemed unlikely that he’d win. I was walking home after taking part in an anti-police brutality protest when I stumbled into my own terrifying interaction with the NYPD. As I neared my home, I saw three officers outside my door. I asked them if anything was wrong. One of the officers moved for his holster. I remember how his hand lingered there, neither removing his service weapon nor dropping to his side. I remember how unapologetic he was. Turns out they were standing there for no reason at all. But I remember fumbling with my keys as I struggled to get inside, and the feeling of relief when I was safely in my own apartment.

At that point, I was already pretty scared of Trump; his racist rhetoric a harbinger of dark times for Black Americans, but the incident flipped a switch. This was less than a month after the snuff videos of Philando Castile and Alton Sterling shocked the country. My fear and anger were refined by the terror of my own encounter. So the election felt like more than a mere quadrennial civic exercise. To me, it seemed like a referendum on the validity of the African-American existence. I was not only angry at Trump voters, but third-party voters, non-voters—anybody who didn’t utilize the full force of their electoral might to thwart him.

...The post-election protests enabled me to realign with my leftist roots. My mother’s father was a member of the Communist party. Through the various other leftist organizations, I became more committed to progressive causes. So when a racial justice group organizer sent me an invitation for the march in September, I clicked “attending” without even looking at the date: Whenever it was, I thought, I will be there.

Then I saw the date—maybe the one and only day of the year I COULDN’T be there.

The nature of the commemoration added a subtle irony in the otherwise divisive incident is that it stems from a point of cultural similarity. Jews have a long tradition of observing occasions of sadness well as occasions of joy. Half the dates on the Jewish Calendar are in some part anniversaries of sorrow. We commemorate the dead not on the day they were born, but on the day that they left us. The fast of Yom Kippur, one of pure spirituality, is equaled by only one other day, The Ninth of Av, when a litany of tragedies and massacres befell the Jewish people.

In response to the furor, March organizers released a moving and compassionate explanation and apology. In the statement, organizers noted that they chose to use the event to commemorate an atrocity that often eludes the collective American memory: September 30th is the anniversary of the Elaine Massacre, when as many as 237 blacks were killed. It makes sense that the march be should against the most conspicuous expressions of racism. They also noted “[that] mistake highlights the need for our communities to form stronger relationships.”

...It’s a trying moment for me. Confrontations on race, language and politics have often put me at odds with the Orthodox Jewish community. That lack of ideological solidarity was eventually filled by social justice organizing. So, being sidelined on the left at such a defining moment is gutting. The unfortunate scheduling of the Racial Justice March only exacerbated some of the anxiety I felt as a Jew on the Left. The oversight was not as aggressive as some harsh language BDS resolution or the confrontations that pro-Israel Jews have experienced at various pride marches, but it was another point in a growing constellation of Jewish discomfort in the progressive spectrum. Yes, many of us will be marching the next day, but separately and with diminished sense of solidarity with the movement at large.

Every black Jew will tell you that maintaining both identities is a constant battle; internally and externally. The Jewish community has an innate thread of solidarity built in it’s always there even when philosophical differences lead to animosity, the bonds of a commonality exist; sometimes adding fuel to the fire. The Jewish calendar is sprinkled with festivals and holidays that are observed collectively. To not adhere is to be excised from the people; one of the worst consequences in Jewish Law, even worse than death.

On the other hand solidarity is crucial to civil rights. If MLK had walked alone on the Edmund Pettis bridge, where would we be? Would his speech at the March on Washington have resonated if it was given to the empty reflecting pool? For the disenfranchised to challenge the powerful, they must access their own power. This power lies not in arms or in capital, but in numbers. To stand apart from comrades at such a moment is to withhold my individual power from the collective.

So, which does one choose?

Thankfully in the end, there’s a compromise; and perhaps, in a way, this is as it should be. Even though it wasn’t the organizer’s first choice, I’ve come to think that their choice of day is ultimately the correct one—a feeling I was able to realize because, their own expressions of hope for solidarity with and engagement with Jews and the Jewish experience felt real and forthcoming and honest, and devoid of the noxious if subtle dogwhistling and worse going on inside some pockets of the left these days. The white-knuckled indignation I had felt at the organizers exclusion intersectional oversight has been replaced by begrudging acceptance that there’s something beneficial to the FOMO I and other Jews will feel. So we’ll take to the streets the next day; not in Washington, at the seat of Trump’s empire, but in New York, on our shared home turf, doing what Jews have always been commanded to do and speaking truth to power.

Read Ben Faulding’s full piece at Tablet.

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Book Review: The Lies of Locke Lamora

by Wardog

Wednesday, 14 November 2007

Wardog actually likes something - possibly because she didn't have to pay for it.~

Father Chains sat on the roof of the House of Perelandro, staring down at the astonishingly arrogant fourteen-year-old that he little orphan he'd purchased so many years before from the Thiefmaker of Shades' Hill had become. "Some day, Locke Lamora," he said, "some day, you're going to fuck up so magnificently, so ambitiously, so overwhelmingly that the sky will light up and the moons will spin and the gods themselves will shit comets with glee. And I just hope I'm still around to see it." "Oh, please," said Locke. "It'll never happen."

The Lies of Locke Lamora is basically a fantasy-heist novel, but it's also a pleasant breeze through a stale genre (yes, I'm bitter), shorter than the typical eighty million pages and a surprisingly assured and competent debut. I picked it up in Hay on Wye for a sum so ludicrously trifling (a mere one of my English pounds) that it almost felt as if Scott Lynch had come up to me in the street and asked me nicely to read his novel, the consequence of which is that my critical objectivity is shot to buggery but I think I'd still be recommending this if I'd forked out the

requisite 7.99.

Locke Lamora - otherwise known as the Thorn of Camorr - is the leader of a tightly knit group of conmen-thieves known as the Gentleman Bastards. As the novel kicks off, they are in the process of scamming a couple of aristocrats out of a portion of their fortune, coincidentally violating the long-standing Secret Peace that has been negotiated between the criminal underworld and the upper echelons of society. Meanwhile a mysterious personage known as the Grey King is preying upon the thieves of Camorr and forces Locke to participate in his personal vendetta against the city's crimelord Capa Barsavi. Needless to say, events soon spiral massively out of Locke's control and he finds himself caught up in something that threatens not only the people he cares for but the entire stability of the city. The first third of the book is a rompish heist, complete with all the usual twists and turns, but then it twists on its axis becoming a much darker and more serious story, although it never loses the edge of gallows-humour that makes it such a pleasure to read.

The Lies of Locke Lamora is a truly a rootless, bastard child of the genre: there's a fair mixing of Feist, Gavriel Kay, Brust, Miville, Pratchett and Dickens to be found within, to say nothing of the more than passing nods to movies like The Godfather, The Sting, Oceans 11, Scar Face and Goodfellas. It's not flawless, but it's still damn good: a fast-paced, page-turning adventure story set in a complex and intriguing world that doesn't drown you in detail (although I expect the author will soon forget this and commence the deluge). Camorr provides an excellent backdrop for Lamora's exploits: an island city built of Elderglass by a race nobody remembers, it seems to be inspired by 16th century Venice, with all the attendant squalor and decadence. There's definitely world-building going on but its of the subtle kind that successfully creates the impression of a living and very real city without racking up a page count hefty enough to kill a walrus (*cough* Miville *cough*). Lynch's imagination encompasses both beauty and brutality, dancing easily from the banal to the opulent, from frivolity to genuine threat. One of my favourite chapters introduces the fencing master, Don Maranzella in his House of Glass Roses:

"Here was an entire rose garden, wall after all, of perfect petals and stems and thorns, silent and scentless and alive with reflected fire, for it was all carved from Elderglass, a hundred thousand blossoms, perfect down to the tiniest thorn ... ... each wall of roses was actually transparent .... Yet there were patches of genuine colour here and there in the hearts of the sculptures, swirled masses of reddish-brown transulence like clouds of rust-coloured smoke frozen in ice. These clouds were human blood.

I can forgive Lynch for lingering in his fairytale garden of blood-thirsty roses and his farmer-turned-fencing master is a wonderful antidote to all those artistic gentlemanly types with their flourishing rapiers. This chapter seems to illustrate Lynch at his very best - the strange, sculpted roses and the introduction of the fencing master, the shift from pretension to pragmatism, from description to dialogue, from fantastical lyricism to dark humour and the sudden stripped-down truth about what Jean Tannen has really come to learn:

"Jean, you misunderstand." Maranzella kicked idly at the toy rapier and it clattered across the tiles of the roof top. "Those prancing little pants-wetters come here to learn the colourful and gentlemanly art of fencing, with its many sporting limitations and its proscriptions against dishonourable engagements. You, on the other hand," he said, as he turned to give Jean a firm but friendly poke in the centre of his forehead, "you are going to learn how to kill men with a sword."

The book itself is interestingly structured - it reminds me rather of Heroes, in fact. It consists of a succession of short chapters building to a mini-climax, followed by a brief interlude, either a tale of the City and its Gods, or a flashback to the early years and training of Locke and his gang. This actually works really well. The interludes are generally absorbing enough that, even though I was eager to find out what was going to happen next, I didn't skip them or resent reading them ... at least not very much. Furthermore, most of the interludes, although not precisely relevant, often offer an illumination on future events, thus rewarding the alert reader. And it does solve the perennial fantasy book problem of how to introduce the hero to the reader and show his gradual development from child to adult without spending the first five hundred pages of the novel narrating every little moment of the hero's childhood in agonisingly tedious detail. Part of me, however, couldn't quite shake the conviction that it was a cheap trick. It's a very obvious way to build tension and create anxiety and uncertainty in the reader and occasionally interferes with the pacing at critical moments.

Lynch's is a self-consciously "dark" world; there's an awful lot of swearing and torture, and the central characters are, of course, thieves and murderers. But since we only ever see them stealing from the rich and murdering those who thoroughly deserve it and their loyalty to each other is unswerving, there's never really any question of their being admirable characters deep down. This is not a problem per se; but the book is about as morally ambiguous as my Grandmother:

"I only steal because my dear old family needs the money to live!" Locke Lamora made this proclamation with his wine glass held high ... ... the others began to jeer. "Liar!" they chorused "I only steal because this wicked world won't let me work an honest trade!" Calo cried, hoisting his own glass. "LIAR!" "I only steal," said Jean, "because I've temporarily fallen in with bad company." "LIAR!" At last the ritual came to Bug; the boy raised his glass a bit shakily and yelled, "I only steal because it's heaps of fucking fun!" "BASTARD!"

Stealing may be wrong but it's also big and clever and all the cool kids are doing it. The exuberance and loyalty of the Gentleman Bastards is charming and it's impossible not to root for them. On the other hand, I am conscious of a vague dissatisfaction with Locke. The book is careful to assert that he is skinny and unremarkable and a poor fighter but he is also a consummate conman with incredible reserves of tenacity and courage, he is cunning, daring and quick-thinking, and there is no sacrifice he will not consider to preserve the safety of his friends and loved ones. He can be ruthless when necessary, he has the survival instincts of a rat, he's reckless occasionally but only in a way we're meant to think is cool and, on top of all this, he has a conscience and listens to it. Needless to say his origins are shrouded in mystery (I'm sure this will be Very Important later) and his creator is head over heels in love with him. I came dangerously close to finding the character annoying and if Lynch isn't careful he's going to be unbearable a couple of books down the line.

Speaking of the dreaded "couple of books down the line" The Lies of Locke Lamora does a reasonable job of offering a coherent and contained plot arc, but there are several dangling threads (the most irritating of which is Locke's love interest, a woman occasionally mentioned but never introduced) presumably left there to wet the appetite for future books. The mighty internet tells me there will be seven of these, which triggers all my cringe mechanisms. This cannot end well. Has nobody learned anything from JK Rowling?

The second book of the septad, Red Seas Under Red Skies, has recently been released - having enjoyed the first book has much as I did, I'm now terrified to read the second in case it sucks. I guess I'll have to wait until it's available for 1 again. But, in the meantime, you could do worse than taking a look at The Lies of Locke Lamora. It's not perfect - Mary Sue-ish main character, a plot necessitated, damn near omnipotent bondsmage - and I understand it has received some criticism for its modern-sounding speech but, quite frankly, I found that contributed to the lively, irreverent tone of the book. But it is a fun, fast-paced read in a ponderous genre and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

PS - This is really childish (and has nothing to do with the review at all) but I think I also need to point out that Scott Lynch looks like this --->: 

Arthur B

at 17:09 on 2007-11-14I was toying with doing a Reading Canary for this one, and might still do if I get around to picking up

Red Seas

, but you seem to have covered most of the bases. I agree that criticising the book for modern-sounding speech is reaching a little - if an author's simply more comfortable writing dialogue in a modern style then I'd rather they did that than attempt to try Ye Olde Speeche and fail horribly. I also agree that Lynch is a little too in love with Lamora, and indeed most of the book's fans are a little too much in love with Lamora; the fun of the book comes when Locke screws up horribly, and if you look at it objectively he isn't actually as nice a guy as Lynch thinks he is. That's why the book works, of course: the big central conflict is about accepting a rotten compromise which causes suffering for a few but provides peace and security for many, or rejecting that compromise knowing full well that rejection means no peace or security for anyone, and it's good that the representatives of both sides have their good and bad points.

The big criticism I'd have is that all the flashback bits to their childhood simply weren't as interesting to me as the main story: I'd much rather have a book half the length without the flashbacks. It doesn't matter whether Jean was taught swordplay by a farmer-turned-toff in a blood garden or by a toff-turned-farmer in a turnip patch: I can't think of any instance in the main storyline where it becomes at all relevant. There is one flashback which nicely foreshadows the final conflict, but it does so by basically explaining what Locke's tactic is going to be, so the ending is a bit obvious. Also, yes, big smirking long-haired Scott Lynch wants to kiss big smirking long-haired Locke, a meeting of shit-eating grins which thankfully cannot actually occur in real life.

Thing is, I'm not sure whether I'll ever actually get around to picking up

Red Seas

. I picked up

Lies

second-hand too, and while it's a fun and consistently not-crap read it isn't quite good enough to force me to go buy the new one. I'm not convinced that the character merits more than one book about him.

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empink

at 00:01 on 2007-11-15@ Arthur

For now, I'd say not to bother with Red Seas. It's also a fairly consitently not-crap read, but imho the author's love for his character really burns strong in the sequel. I don't know why I couldn't put my finger on it when I read it, but Kyra hits the nail on the head here. He really, really loves this character of his, and it means he gets to do all kinds of improbably cool stuff.

Now, while that was fun in the first book, it starts to wear on you in the second one. The dialogue needs to be beaten with the boring stick (I swear, everything everyone says is so witty that you WISH someone would say something dumb at some point. Which they don't. ARGH), and the plot is just...stretchy, in terms of suspension of disbelief.

All I know to say is that, having read Red Seas, I'm not going to jones for the rest of the series anywhere as near as I am jonesing for one or two others, because it probably won't be worth it.

PS, Kyra, the mysterious woman never actually shows up in Red Seas. But she does get mentioned. A LOT. *facepalm*

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Wardog

at 09:22 on 2007-11-15ACtually my copy of Lies was brand, spanking new and still one pound - that's why I'm so smug about it. I LOVE you Hay on Wye!

Ahem, anyway. I actually found Locke irritatingly virtuous. Even when he's trying to get a suit of clothes, and he drops an innocent waiter into the shit, he still takes time extract said waiter *and* give him a purse containing more money he's ever held in his life. Until that point I was actually impressed that he'd completely fucked up the waiter's life - it made him less sympathetic but I think, perhaps, more interesting?

I genuinely didn't mind the flashbacks and interludes; they weren't *quite* as interesting as the main plot but I didn't find them sufficiently tedious that they detracted from it too badly. And I was oddly into Jean Tannen (even though he's basically just a side-kick protector for Locke)so I really loved the stuff in the House of Glass Roses; also it is relevant because it "explains" why Jean can take out the two shark-baiting sisters without getting completely mullered.

And thanks for the warnings, Empink, I very very nearly bought a full-price copy of Red Seas the other day and I'm now *so glad* I didn't. I'm not sure I can stand another book of love-interest build-up because you just *know* she won't live up to it. And I don't wish to see Lynch consummating his relationship with Locke in an orgy of cool stunts.

I did find Lies genuinely witty but mainly because the characters tended to say something deeply pragmatic or macabre or just plain inappropriate at what would otherwise be very serious moments. It helped me get through the nasty bits (becuase I'm a wimp) and it also tended to have a nice edge of desperation to it - whereas I don't think I *want* a dazzling virtuoso wit-fest from the Book II.

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Arthur B

at 12:19 on 2007-11-15Empink:

I'd been wondering what I'd found weird about the dialogue in

Lies

, but you've put your finger on it: everybody's a smartarse. I can remember a couple of times where I was having trouble following conversations, because everyone's dialogue is so similar in tone and delivery that there's little differentiating them. It feels less like a bunch of different people are having a conversation and more like Lynch has a bunch of sockpuppets that he's using to tell a story - you never forget that it's Lynch behind all of them. (Still, at least it is monotonous in a clever and witty and entertaining way as opposed to monotonous in a consistently dumb and boring way.)

Kyra:

You're right about the overvirtuousness. I was remembering the bit where he wrecks the waiter's life, but not the part where he makes it all better. I think the worst thing he does in the entire book is play a practical joke on the secret police (you know, the one with the boats full of shit).

I like Jean too, but I worry that I only like him because he's a floating bit of driftwood in an ocean of Locke; he's the only other interesting character we spend an extended amount of time with (though I also liked the Capa's daughter and the Grey King and the head of the secret police), so he's a welcome relief from an unending shower of Lamora-love. As far as the Glass Roses stuff explaining the shark sisters fight, I consider "Jean is a rock-hard son of a bitch" to be a more than adequate explanation for why he beat them. Jean being a rock-hard son of a bitch is neatly demonstrated in the main story by, well, Jean beating the shark sisters...

Both of ye:

I think it's fairly obvious at this point that the Mysterious Love Interest is, in fact, Scott Lynch in a dress.

Either that, or she'll be the big bad at the end of the series.

Possibly the big bad will be Scott Lynch in a dress.

The intersection of Lynchsmirk and Lamoracock providing the cure to the world's ills.

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Wardog

at 14:18 on 2007-11-15I actually thought the dialogue in Lies was just about cope-able with - it's true that everyone sounds nearly the same but that genuinely didn't bother me except occasionally when Locke was conversing with arisocrats and then it grated somewhat. Dona Sofia, for example, is clearly meant to have a distinct and feisty personality with her alchemy and everything - but I never really got much from her. I think I was just glad to have snappy, modern-sounding dialogue for a change, instead of ponderous faux-medieval stuff.

But Jean was a fat, weepy merchant's son - he had to go from that to RHSOFAB somehow; sure, you didn't need to really know how but since these two sisters were meant to be *all that* it wouldn't have made sense for some thiefly-brawler to be able to take them out.

I still feel positive about Lies, despite its flaws. You were obviously considerably more irritated by the Locke-Lovin' than I was. And Lynch isn't the most talented ventriloquist but I didn't feel him in the background as much as you did either. I shouldn't have put up the picture, I think I've just generated undue hostility by drawing attention to the fact he looks like the sort of person we know.

But I genuinely think Lies stands as a good fantasy read; future books, well, we'll see...

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Wardog

at 14:21 on 2007-11-15Also, I think Arthur is just being discriminating because Lynch isn't a hottie like

Gene Wolfe

;)

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Arthur B

at 14:57 on 2007-11-15

But Jean was a fat, weepy merchant's son - he had to go from that to RHSOFAB somehow; sure, you didn't need to really know how but since these two sisters were meant to be *all that* it wouldn't have made sense for some thiefly-brawler to be able to take them out.

Yeah, but we only know that because of the flashbacks, so Lynch ends up setting up a problem which he then feels that he needs to solve with more flashbacks. It'd be more interesting, to me, if he'd established the sonofabitchness of Jean early on, and then dropped hints through the main action that Jean actually comes from a softer, more pudding-like background. I honestly don't think it matters at all, to

Lies

, how Jean got hard - I think most readers can happily accept that a life on the streets as a criminal will tend to make people either sneaky or fighty, regardless of their background.

My worry is that Lynch felt the need to dump all the backstory with Chains and the farmer-turned-toff and the farmer-who-ended-up-a-farmer-again because he's got this big backstory he wants to hint at which is suddenly going to becoming very relevant in the later novels, in a kind of "James Potter was mean to Snape at school" kind of way. And who's willing to bet that this is going to tie in with Long Lost Bint somehow?

Don't worry about the photo, I'd probably be saying the same sort of things about the novel even if Lynch looked like my beloved Wolfe - although it's a lot funnier knowing that Lynch looks like that. I do think it's a fun, likeable novel and worth reading for entertainment; most of my problems stem from my impression that Lynch wants us to think it's something more than that. Then again, maybe I've been spoiled by

Vlad Taltos

, who pushes similar buttons and whose writer looks like

the bastard son of Terry Pratchett and Frank Zappa

.

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Wardog

at 15:12 on 2007-11-15Jesus CHRIST! *faints*

Yeah, I think you might be right about Jean; I guess it depends how much we care that this stuff is going to become Meaningful later. JKR has soured me on that sort of thing forever.

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Arthur B

at 15:38 on 2007-11-15Is that you swooning before the dreamy gaze of Brust?

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Alice

at 22:21 on 2013-08-28Necro-ing this post, since I've finally gotten round to reading the book after finding the post via the random button.

I mostly more or less enjoyed it, in an "oh, must you really, Scott Lynch?" sort of way - I actually enjoyed the backstory parts more than the main plot, perhaps because while Lynch SUPER-UNSUBTLY wrote out Locke's love interest right from the beginning, at least he didn't have her murdered and delivered to her father in a barrel of horse urine in order to kick off the main plot.

(That was the bit that really made me roll my eyes and give up on enjoying the book in anything other than a superficial way. Lynch slightly redeems himself by having the head of the secret police be a badass old lady with a cane, but I really liked Nazca, I thought she was cool, so I was extra annoyed when she got fridged.)

I really like Jean Tannen, though, so part of me is tempted to at least give book 2 a go.

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Robinson L

at 15:30 on 2016-10-05Listened to this one on audiobook several months back, and enjoyed it as a fantasy heist/adventure yarn; it was quite fun. I hope it wasn't Lynch's intention for me to read any deeper meaning into it, because I really doubt it would hold up to that kind of scrutiny, and it would raise a bunch of awkward questions I don't think he's prepared to answer.

I was a bit disappointed by the ending, because the best bits of the book are generally when somebody is executing a masterful con: whereas Locke spends the last few chapters of

Lies

alternately pleading, cajoling, and punching his way to victory.

I guess I didn't mind too much Locke being both an authorial darling and a hyper-competent master criminal, because, as Arthur pointed out in his original comment, he regularly screws up, finds himself outsmarted or outmaneuvered, and generally gets the everloving shit kicked out of him and/or reduced to a blubbering wreck. For me, this was enough to make the balance tip over into “enjoyable” protagonist rather than “insufferable,” though I realize folks' mileage will vary.

I also really liked the character of Father Chains. The samey-ness of all the characters' dialogue has been brought up already, and I just kind of shrugged it off—however, even with that, I feel like Chains got in an inordinate amount of memorable lines. Also, for some reason, the character of a hard-cussin' scoundrel priest really appeals to me. (Technically, Locke is one, too, but his priestliness is kept mostly to the background.)

I was also disappointed they didn't wind up causing the death of the Bonds Mage (perhaps by accident). As arc plots go, “high class thieves on the run from an immensely powerful and vindictive wizards' guild” sounds pretty solid, and could justify the seven book length to show how our heroes go from fleecing the city's upper class to taking on said wizards' guild and winning.

Like Alice, I disliked that the book fridges Nazca in such an ignominious fashion to kick off the main plot, although I was somewhat mollified that the villain then proceeded to wipe out the rest of the Clan Barsavi in similarly brutal fashion, meaning she wasn't the One Big Death, she was just the first major casualty (plus, three quarters of Locke's chums, also all male, go down shortly thereafter). Again, though, I recognize not everyone is going to be satisfied with this, nor am I arguing they should be.

For whatever it means, in the third book, Nazca is the only member of the Barsavi family who Jean deems worthy of mentioning among the list of people they've lost when he's reeling it off to Locke.

Speaking of deaths, I was extremely relieved that Jean Tannen survived the Grey King's betrayal: Locke really needed a sidekick for the story to work, and Jean was easily the best of the lot. His friendship with Locke is great, and one of my favorite parts of the book was actually the flashback to when he first joined the crew, after Locke's initial attack of sibling rivalry, where Jean asks Locke to help him steal stuff he can use as a death offering for his deceased parents, and Locke asks Jean to help him learn how to use an abacus*. So cute.

*This after Father Chains uses Jean's superiority with an abacus to humiliate Locke and demonstrate why Jean is a useful addition to the crew.

So that part was good, and I didn't mind the other flashbacks so much, though I might have if I'd read through the book instead of listening to it on audio. What I did mind was Lynch dropping a chapter about the Spider tumbling to Locke's latest scheme and setting a trap for him right after the cliffhanger chapter where he's been thrown into the river in a barrel of horse urine and left for dead. First and most obviously because it's a transparently artificial way to hold off resolving said cliffhanger (unlike the flashbacks, which happen in every chapter); but second and also perniciously, because it sucked so much of the tension out of later scenes with Locke trying to reestablish his Lucas Fehrwight scam—the main source of tension was now “will Locke fall into the Spider's trap, and if so, how will he escape it?” so all the stuff with him stealing an appropriate set of clothes felt like so much wasted time before we got back to the next big story question. And that's also unfortunate because I think the clothing scam was actually one of the strongest parts of the book.

Speaking of which, I see what you mean about Locke being “irritatingly virtuous,” though I didn't mind it much, either. The only part which really got me was the way he immediately opted for saving all the high-bread toffs of Camorr at the risk of missing his chance for revenge against the Grey King. I get that he's supposed to be a noble rogue character, but that part struck me as too altruistic to fit his personality. I would expect him at least to be seriously tempted to leave the aristocrats to their fate while he goes and settles the score with the guy who murdered all but one of his best friends. But no, in his mind, it isn't even a choice, and I don't understand why.

I think it should be noted, though, that Locke also does some really screwed up shit which he's never really called on (a major reason I resist taking the books at all seriously). This is a case in point:

he drops an innocent waiter into the shit, he still takes time extract said waiter *and* give him a purse containing more money he's ever held in his life.

Well, yeah, but he *also* gets the poor sod permanently exiled from the only home he's ever had, presumably cut off from friends, family, everyone and everything he knows. Now, for some people, I suppose this could be the best opportunity of their lives—for others, it would be a kind of hell. For all we know, that waiter might well have committed suicide a couple years later, unable to cope with his life's circumstances.

Other crimes of Master Lamora which go unaddressed: murdering the Grey King's assassin after getting information out of him by shutting him up in a cellar and setting fire to it. True, the man had just killed one of his and Jean's best friends and was complicit the conspiracy to kill them all, but that's an incredibly cruel way to dispatch him.

And biggest of all, he manipulates the Camorri top brass into demolishing the Grey King's escape ship and consigning the ~15 person crew to what I also recall being described as a particularly horrible death. True, they were all the Grey King's lackeys, but they were just there to help him get away with the loot (and not to infect half the city with awful plague, as Locke claims), which hardly seems to make them deserving of such a grisly execution.

I let all this pass because I take the books in a “fun adventure” mindset; if I took them seriously, I'd be forced to conclude that Locke Lamora is a terrible person in ways the books themselves aren't prepared to explore.

A final note on the audiobook version: Michael Page is a great narrator, his voice nicely capturing the story's narrative style, and bringing the characters vividly to life. He also does a wonderful job with the various accents which come into play (mostly as one or another of Locke's characters for a heist), making them very distinct and memorable. Perhaps too memorable, for I'm sure I've caught him recycling a number of secondary voices and accents—he's no Jim Dale—but still an impressive accomplishment which I think utterly nails the tone of the series.

[childrenofathoria-rp-blog]

◆ Out Of Character Information ◆

Name/Age: Carly, 21 Preferred Pronouns: She/Her Timezone: EST Desired Character: Donnie

◆Character Information◆

(1) What pronouns will your character be using? Would you like to list their sexuality at this time?: Donnie will use he/him pronouns. While his sexuality is not something he thinks about often, he would probably identify as bisexual/pansexual; I am not sure which one fits better. He sleeps with customers of all ages and genders, but sex is different than attraction or romantic feelings, which he doesn’t have the time or capacity for at this point in his life.  

(2) Any changes or comments? I think it would be hard to attract customers when wearing all baggy clothing, so when Donnie is out trying to do that he might wear something a little more revealing. To stick with the baggy clothes though (because Donnie does like to keep covered and inconspicuous to avoid unwanted attention) he could wear a cloak that he could open to try and seduce clients. He mostly stays covered on his top half, meaning his head/neck/shoulders area as that as the most important part to keep hidden as it is the general location of his collar, and also his face which if recognized could mean terrible trouble for him.

(3) Why this character?:

I like all the potential connections Donnie could have with others and the fact that he has obvious desires which I think will make him an easy character to plot with. He wants so badly to be freed of the collar that he wears because of all the bad times in his past that it remind him of. Wanting to be rid of that collar will be something that he will be working at every day and plotting with others will help bring him closer to that goal. He wants to know if the rumors of the powerful witch who can reverse the curse on the collar are true and he longs to find whoever they are. He also has plenty of room for flashbacks (selfies and paras with others). There is his horrible past with his family and the things he witnessed them do, when he was sold to the warlock, his time with the warlock, the stabbing in Hallowed Oak and Aaliyah and the other mages saving him… All these things leave him so open for growth.

As well I can relate to Donnie in ways which I think makes him a good character for me. I also have trouble connecting with people and finding meaningful relationships with others (because of my past and issues trusting others, much like Donnie). He wishes for acceptance and love that he never had so he tries to pretend that he has that sometimes with his customers, and while I am not a sex worker, that feeling is something that I understand. I think that writing a character that is similar to me in ways will be cool because I understand some of his motives and would love to see him grow, and maybe allow me to grow and explore some of myself as well.

(4) Interpret this character:

One the biggest things about Donnie is the collar around his neck. Everything about the way his is currently stems from that collar. It reminds him of his past and makes him sad for his future. It reminds him that his family shunned him and sold him basically into slavery for ten years. It reminds him that for a better chunk of his life he was a prisoner to an evil warlock, who not only made Donnie obey him, but gave him a range of mental issues due to the magic contained within the collar. It also reminds him that no matter how much he keeps running, until the collar is removed he will still be bound by it, which makes for a bleak future. The collar keeps him from truly being himself, though I feel as if Donnie doesn’t really have much of a sense of self. That collar has been a part of him for over a decade and it’s as much a part of him as his hands or feet are. It has kept him from doing so many things, like settling down in one area, like making friends and like rebuilding himself from the awful past he endured. Donnie wants the collar removed more than anything because once the collar is gone from his body that would mean true freedom, but once freed, I am not sure Donnie would know what to do with himself. If Donnie ever got that far along in his timeline, I think it would be an interesting thing to work out.

Currently he is constantly on the run, so making connections with people is hard. It is also hard to make connections because of his past. He is quick to judge and trusts very few with even the littlest bits of himself. Why would he when there are literally people out to get him? He is pretty paranoid, most of the time for good reason, so it is hard for him to have genuine interactions. I would like to see him interact with others to see exactly how he reacts to them with his reservations. In regards to his impulsive side, Donnie will do and say things that are sometimes rash. This can bring trouble his way, but it also leaves less room for confusion. He isn’t honest when it comes to details about himself, but when it comes to what he wants to get out of a situation he can be very straight forward. These qualities are great when it comes to his choice of profession. It makes it easy for him to attract clientele and then to not get attached. It is an (almost) perfect match. Sometimes he can feel slightly drawn to the men and women he sleeps with. When they treat him well he connects with them on a private level, meaning he doesn’t outwardly show his feelings or fantasies about them but inside he has feelings and fantasies that he quietly plays out in his head. Even though prostitution is a job for Donnie it is something that, for the most part, he actually enjoys on some level because he gets the chance to pretend that there is actually something real between himself and his client. This especially happens on the occasions when customers let Donnie spent the night, or sometimes several nights in a row, in their house. It is always hard to leave those customers, but he knows he must.

Donnie’s past is something he carries with him every day. He literally has the collar around his neck, as I’ve talked about, and he also has so many mental issues that come up in his day to day life (some of which I’ve touched on.) He has severe paranoia, anxiety, panic attacks, and probably depression. He powers through them though and continues to do what it takes for him to live another day. He is still wary of gifted humans and can sometimes still be triggered into a panic attack not because of the collar having a bad reaction to another mage, but because Donnie is so used to having them occur and his fear is so deeply rooted. His parents and siblings were magic who tortured animals (including the occasional human) and he knows the horrors that gifted humans can create. The time spent with the warlock he was sold to can also attest to his hatred for gifted humans and his mental health issues. Donnie most of the time, appears to be normal and healthy but sometimes he can fall into a state where he is panicky and distraught. He has been so used to pain and suffering that it is a normal part of his daily life, but sometimes it gets to be too much and he breaks down.

One of the best days of Donnie’s life thus far was the day he was mugged within Hallowed Oak. He was stabbed multiple times and he thought he was going to die. He almost wished for it. Death would have probably been better than living the way that he had been at the time. He lay on the forest floor and was almost thankful that someone had chosen him to stab to death. He didn’t die but he wasn’t rescued by his evil owner either. He was saved by some witches who nursed him back to health. He was shocked that gifted humans could do such amazing and honorable things. He owes those mages his life, and while he had hoped his wounds would kill him, he was happy to be alive. He was even happier to be alive when the witches told him that he would no longer be able to be tracked the same way and would be free to travel as he pleased (for the most part.) It was after he was healed that Donnie decided to go on his way and found himself in an eternal nomadic state. It was better than being curse bound to a horrid warlock though. He is forever on the move, forever on the lookout for suspicious faces and fears it will be this way forever.

Some headcannons I have for Donnie are about his fighting background, that for a short time he stayed in Dragos and learned to fight from a boy who was training to be in the royal army. He fought for a short while after that in street fights to make money but eventually transitioned somehow into sex work, which he found less grueling and more lucrative. These skills come in handy when customers get too rowdy or handsy or if a dreaded encounter occurs with someone who is out to return him to his warlock “owner.”

He also has some favorite or “regular” customers in certain towns. These are people that took a liking to Donnie and did extra special things for him like give him gifts, let him stay in their homes, clothe him, feed him, throw him some extra coins… things of that nature. These are the people Donnie likes to pretend with during their time together. These are also people Donnie sometimes seeks out when he is back in their territory or when he needs a little money if he gets desperate.

Something else I have been thinking about but haven’t really come to a conclusion on is whether or not Donnie is religious or not. Part of me thinks that Donnie is, and that when he was prisoner to the warlock he prayed to be freed, but another part of me feels that Donnie thinks that religion is silly and wouldn’t want to have anything to do with it. I think it is something that I feel would be interesting to think about more and figure out in game. He could have picked up religion from his family. If they were spiritual it could go one of two ways: he stayed religious because it was something that he held onto from happier times of his childhood or he hates it because it was something his parents taught to him. Or he could have picked it up later in life or used it as a coping mechanism during his imprisonment with the warlock and now in the present. I’m not sure about this and would like to explore this part of Donnie more.

I also imagine that at one point in Donnie’s life there were happy memories of his family. Before he was aged 9-12 were probably good times with his family before they realized that he was not magic himself. This can either go one of two ways as well. He either cherishes these happy memories and wishes to have something like that again or he resents them for his family showing him affection just to cast him aside when they realized he wasn’t going to develop magical powers. I would also like to explore this part of Donnie’s life and see how he feels about his early childhood.

◆ Interview Questions ◆

(1) Question One: Which cities do you shy away from? Or do you find it easier to keep rotating between all of them to keep safe?

“I am always on the move, but avoid Miervaldis at all costs and stay away from Chile Village if I can… The people there don’t like passerbys like me.”

(2) Question Two: What sort of things have you traded for when your clients don’t have those flashy new coins from the East?

“Just about everything one could think of: food, clothes, a bed to sleep in for a night. Depends on what I need and what they’re offering.”

◆Writing Sample:◆

There was something in the air. Leeds was bustling with people, which it often was, but the evening felt different somehow to Donnie. The air was chill, but he was always prepared for the cold. His scarf was wound tightly around his head and neck, the excess fabric hanging down his back. He stood off to the side of the street just watching the people go by. Tonight he was in the midst of the French Quarter. He had been working here for several weeks, shacking up in a brothel and making as much money as he could. He couldn’t stand it inside any more though. Sitting in a room waiting for someone to show up to fuck him… Cabin fever was setting in; he was tired of waiting.

Donnie didn’t prefer brothels. Rather he liked finding customers on his own. That opened the door for more opportunities than working at a brothel could. For one, he received more money with not having to give any coin to the owner of the establishment and sometimes the people he slept with let him stay for a while or gave him food or clothing. He liked being invited into others’ homes. He could then pretend there was something semi-normal about his life. It never lasted long but all Donnie needed were those fleeting moments to keep himself sated.

Coming out of the shadows of a building and opening up his large cloak, Donnie revealed his bare chest to the people walking through the streets. This earned a few long glances from those passing by. He liked to keep up with his physique. There was a standard he liked to maintain because it often impressed those who bed him. His toned stomach and rounded biceps were a commodity he was proud to possess. It was a small distraction from the collar that was around his neck.

Trying to make eye contact with someone Donnie let the fabric of the cloak slide off his shoulder and catch in the crook of his arm. A man slowed as he walked past and appeared to be sizing up his body.

“You lookin’ for some company?” Donnie asked loud enough to be heard over the noise of the evening crowd. “I’d be happy to make your night.” He took some steps closer so the man could get a better look and hopefully agree to Donnie. He had a sinister look in his eye, and immediately Donnie’s stomach turned. He had seen looks with ill intent before. Sometimes looking down on him for his choice of profession. Sometimes people would give him a look that told Donnie they were imagining all the nasty things they could do to him in a bedroom. This look though was one he feared seeing every day. This man was one a henchmen most likely working with his family or the warlock Donnie was prisoner to.

“Fuck.” He pulled his cloak up and turned quickly, praying with all his might that he could outrun the man. He was older and Donnie was used to being on the run… not always quite so literally though. He pushed through the people in the crowd interjecting an occasional “excuse me” or “watch out” as he ran, his knapsack bumping into those he passed. He was thankful the streets were full this night. It would make it a bit easier to lose the man.

Approaching an alleyway that Donnie knew led to a maze of more alleys and corridors behind buildings, he quickly made the turn looking back for just a second to see if his pursuer was close behind. He fortunately couldn’t pick him out of the crowd, but he honestly didn’t get that great of a look at his face before he took off running. Slipping in the dirt as he turned forward to keep moving, Donnie steadied himself quickly and hurried to make a choice on where to go now. Not really thinking of where he was headed, he ran and made as many quick turns as he could hoping to confuse whoever it was that was chasing after him. His heart was pounding. Donnie could feel it over his whole body but he didn’t let it get to him… not now at least.

After what felt like a thousand turns, the blonde finally came out on a less busy street on what appeared to be the outskirts of Leeds. It was now that he finally stopped to try and catch his breath. Breathe in … breathe out, he repeated to himself trying to slow his heart and push the impending feeling of doom out of his head. The air was still chilly but it felt good on Donnie’s hot skin. He slowly walked along the street, avoiding eye contact with the sparse amount of people here. He heard some shouts from a tavern a few doors behind him and cautiously turned because he just had to know if someone was still following him. When the sounds of a fight broke out and no one suspicious was in view, Donnie let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He would lay low for the evening, afraid to get out on the open road so soon, and leave at the crack of dawn. His time here was spent.

[vigilante-rpg]

Here’s the first of our admin auditions which can be used as references and examples of auditions we will be accepting. Jessica will be playing the role of Thalia Winsor, taking the origin “The Sidekick”.

{{ PLAYER INFORMATION }}

NAME: Jessica

AGE: 27

PROUNOUNS: She/Her

TIMEZONE: GMT

ACTIVITY LEVEL: 7/10. I work full-time so roleplaying is very much a hobby I can fit in between work and looking after the house etc. I can say for certain that most weekdays my time online will be limited to anywhere between 19:00 – 22:00 GMT time. I have weekends off so my activity can pick up more then.

RP EXPERIENCE: A lot of my roleplays are just simply no longer available otherwise I would happily share a link. I think I have sample skeleton bios etc. for roleplays I’ve created but have no character blogs saved. I’ve been roleplaying for 14-15 years now, on multiple different platforms and in many different styles. I’ve done literate, semi, skeleton, original, canon and fandom roleplays. For a while I was an RPH and I’ve even done a newer style of cosplay-roleplaying which can be found on the blog I’m replying from. I’ve been an admin of many different literate roleplays on tumblr for almost 6 years, so I have plenty of experience with this platform and the way roleplaying works here. Literate roleplaying with a focus on character development is my favourite form.

PERSONAL TUMBLR CONTACT: Removed for Privacy

TRIGGERS: Rape, Abortion / Miscarriage, Domestic Abuse are all really big no’s for me. Those subjects bring up memories and feelings I don’t want to be thrown into. Write it if you want, please have it tagged and under a read more so I can be aware of the content. Not so much triggers but things I’d rather be under a read more or clearly tagged; Sexual Scenes, Excessive Gore, Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Harm.

{{ CHARACTER INFORMATION }}

CHARACTER NAME: Thalia Winsor

PRONOUNS: She / Her

AGE: 29

ORIGIN: The Sidekick

FACE CLAIM: Sarah Gadon

QUOTE: “Be the reason someone believes in the goodness of people”

OCCUPATION: Nurse at Sacred Heart Hospital

PERSONALITY:

Compassionate: Thalia is a gentle soul and greatly cares for people. She is greatly sympathetic and tries her best to help those who need it most. Whether it’s in her day to day work as a nurse or just trying to assist those she’s encountered whilst taking to the streets as Nightingale. She is kind and well-meaning in most aspects of her life, the thought of putting herself first when there are those who need it more is one often overlooked. Her compassionate nature will be extended to those who do not deserve it, and will often be taken advantage of – she’s more than likely to give criminals who appear remorseful a second chance, or turn her back in a moment of misplaced trust.

Sincere: She’s honest, sometimes to a fault. If she gives a compliment or opinion it stems from genuine beliefs she holds, equally if she’s critical her words aren’t often softened by sugar coating it. She greatly dislikes those who lie without a guilty conscious and struggles herself to be deceitful. This honest nature has tripped her up on more than one occasion in her efforts to keep her secret identity safe. If she makes a promise she keeps it and often will hold others to the same high standard.

Well Mannered: Soft spoken and polite, she uses dulcet tones and polite compliments to diffuse an otherwise awkward situation. She was brought up with a silver spoon in her mouth and as such was forced to adhere to a strict set of rules surrounding etiquette. This was only enhanced during her training as a nurse and now her bedside manner is impeccable. This will often interfere with her attempts to sound threatening or tough in a sticky situation and only leads to people underestimating her.

Insecure: Thalia would deem her childhood, riddled with moments where she was told she wasn’t good enough, as the main factor in her insecurities. Though in truth Thalia has never helped herself out of the spiral either. She is very self-conscious of both her appearance and achievements in life. The way others perceive her is very important because the way she perceives herself is often very negatively. Whilst her insecurity fuels her worse habits, it is also a one of the main reasons she tries her best to be a good person. This insecurity and need to overcome it will often lead her into more difficult situations, becoming overly defensive or worse. Whilst Nightingale is at least more seemingly confident and in control, deep down the same worries plague the Vigilante.

Passive: Thalia is non-confrontational to an extreme fault. When flight or fight kicks in she will almost always run away from a situation. This carries over into less extreme moments of her life too; failing to stick up for herself, people pleasing, resenting those more assertive and bottling up feelings in favour of ensuring others aren’t hurt. When Nightingale’s mask is on she finds a different strength within herself, one not hindered by the concern of what others may think. Whilst she will not be the first to run into the fray, and will always try to seek a more peaceful resolution, Nightingale isn’t afraid to defend herself. Her main focus is always keeping others safe and helping them, finding an offensive partner to work with only further benefits her fighting style.

Envious: Thalia is often resentful of those who have what she does not. Whether it’s a happy family unit, the attention of someone she is attracted to or the ability to be assertive or fight when the moment calls for it without the need to hide behind a mask... Whilst she often admires the good traits in others she also finds herself dwelling on them too, wishing she herself could hold them. Her insecurities are fed by her envious nature and the vicious cycle continues to battle on behind her pretty smile.

BIOGRAPHY: Thalia was born and raised in Newhaven’s more affluent district, attending only the finest schools in the area and leading a life that many would deem a dream. However paying for schools and keeping a roof over her head was where the generosity ended as neither her mother nor her father were the affectionate type. Between her overly critical, cold mother and harsh, calculating father her relationship with them is strained at best. Her parents were wealthy and successful enough to indulge in a number of different business ventures, leading to a network of connections across the city. Everyone who was anyone attended the Winsor Manor on more than one occasion, and Thalia couldn’t wait for the moment she was able to leave.

Her studio apartment, luxurious by most standards, is a far cry away from the white panelled manor back in Downtown Newhaven that she called home for most of her life. In truth she had never felt more right than the moment she took a job at BuzzNews and the keys to the tiny apartment, much to her parents disapproval. Working at the media company enabled her to pay for her studies without relying on her parents funding and the independence she’d earned made it all the more satisfying upon graduation. It was during her time as a student nurse that Thalia first tapped into her powers.

Whilst the patients she visited and helped tend to were recovering, she had no reason to suspect it was anything other than the medicine the doctors had prescribed. One morning she was carrying out the morning rounds, her first stop of the day was with an elderly gentlemen known well by the nurses and doctors alike in the ward. He was a terminal case, or so they thought. One gentle pat on the shoulder from Thalia as she moved to fluff his pillows and ask about his night’s sleep and his eyes lit up. He removed the breathing apparatus, much to her horror, and looked around the room as shocked and bewildered as she did. Despite the blaring alarms alerting the staff to the worst, the man was completely fine and healthy. The tests over the next 3 days confirmed the impossible. He was cured and on the mend.

Her studying was not hindered by the incident with many chalking it up to nothing short of a miracle she had the unfortunate luck to be witness to, and Thalia continued her work placement at Sacred Heart Hospital which eventually led to her job prospect following graduation. Thalia wasn’t satisfied by the explanation of others however, and began to experiment whenever possible. Her studies only enabled her to understand and use her powers more effectively, growing in confidence with every patient she helped.

Thalia’s first night as a Vigilante had been an unexpected one. She’d never meant to get caught up in a robbery at the local corner store and she’d certainly never set out to have her evening tainted by the robber opening fire on the innocent store clerk. The fact she ran towards the injured man surprised her greatly, but at least it was intentional. Thalia had been too busy consumed with thoughts of saving him to notice Spectrum’s arrival until after the blinding assortment of colours that announced it. Between him catching the robber turned gunman and her healing the store clerk, everything worked out fine. Instead of turning her in to the police and making her abilities known, Spectrum sent Thalia on her way home and out of trouble. From there their companionship started.

At first it was short visits from Spectrum requesting healing after a particularly bad fight, and then it was him asking if she’d mind tagging along just in case – with the promise he’d keep her protected – within a year she’d found a mask of her own to wear when going out alongside Spectrum. Never often enough to be called a hero, but enough times to be cited his sidekick. Thalia didn’t think she was worthy of being called even that, but Nightingale longed for recognition of her own. When Spectrum left she had a choice before her; to hang up the mask or to go at it alone. Thalia’s still uncertain as to whether or not she’s making the right one.

{{ VIGILANTE INFORMATION }}

VIGILANTE NAME: Nightingale

PRONOUNS: She / Her

APPEARANCE: Nightingales true identity is hidden beneath a slim and simple light blue Venetian mask, covering her eyes and nose but keeping the rest of her face on show. Her short blonde hair is usually swept backwards by the mask but almost always down. Her outfit consists of a light blue bodysuit deep v-neck top, with cold shoulder and waist cutouts, that finishes at the elbows. With a mid-thigh length, blue and white skirt to match. The white bird sigil rests over the left side of the chest and her hands are kept free so she can use her power without hindrance. Her white ankle boots are low heeled to make running around much easier for the vigilante. Exposed skin is a must for her, as her powers only work with direct contact. 

SIGIL: A white bird symbol with open wings with blue shadowing over top. Sketchy lines and blocky, clearly hand drawn.

COLOUR SCHEME: White, Grey, Light Blue, Blue. Hex Codes; #8890c0 #e3e5f5 #f8f8f8

FIGHTING STYLE: Nightingale works best when part of a team, focusing mainly on supporting the offensive partner and keeping them in top shape. When fighting alone she does so best up close and personal as her powers relying on her close proximity and ability to touch.

CLASS TYPE: Support

POWER: Healing Touch & Illness Inducement.

Thalia can heal most superficial wounds, both fresh and old, on others with a simple touch as well as illnesses & diseases over a prolonged time. Through touch the diagnosis of any damage or illness can be detected in others. Thalia also has the ability to absorb another’s pain and endure it so they do not have to.

She is able to heal broken bones, cure symptoms of poison or life threatening injuries if she is given enough time to do so. Her knowledge of healthcare and the human body greatly aids her abilities. She cannot selfheal in any capacity, any injury she sustains or illnesses she encounters are things she cannot cure for herself like she can for others.

Her illness inducement is much less controlled and also heavily relies on skin-to-skin contact like her healing ability. Whilst she can control when to harm instead of heal, and she can will the general status of the illness, she has varied control on how damaging this is. Thalia could mean to simply make someone feel nauseous and instead given them a stomach bug. This illness inducement can range from giving headaches or numbness to making someone impotent, violently ill or otherwise.

{{ STATS }}

Please delegate 9 points between the following three stats for your character. If the origin you’re applying for has a bonus or debuff on any of the below, adjust the total as required.

OBSCURITY: 4/5

CONTROL: 3/5

LUCK:  3/5

Please delegate 28 points between the following eight stats for your character. If the origin you’re applying for has a bonus or debuff on any of the below, adjust the total as required.

STRENGTH: 2/5

SPEED: 3/5

CHARISMA: 3/5

INTUITION: 4/5

AGILITY: 5/5

STAMINA: 3/5

INTELLIGENCE: 4/5

DURABILITY: 3/5

{{ EXTRAS }}

HEADCANONS:

Dancing Queen - Thalia has always been an avid fan of dancing, whether it be basic ballroom, jazz or something more contemporary. Since moving out from her parents estate she’s had the opportunity to sign up to various classes in her free time to expand her passion instead of sticking to the instructors they’ve approved. On the rare nights she goes out, it’s usually with the intention to find a fun place to go dancing and have fun, like Fuze.  

Sleeping Beauty - Working at a hospital & a life of crime fighting often leads to a wonky sleep schedule and Thalia always had a tendency to sleep until noon on her days off long before her time in scrubs. She’s a heavy sleeper naturally and often unhappy to be woken up for anything short of an emergency. If she’s not at work or at the dance studio, one can assume she’s either in a mask or sound asleep in bed.

Alcohol Intolerance – Thalia dislikes the smell of scotch and whiskey as it reminds her of her father and she’s just simply never enjoyed the taste of alcohol when partaking herself. Her aversion to drinking has only been bolstered by the fact she’s often drunk one glass in, and no one enjoys embarrassing themselves at the start of an evening. Nightingale has a history of reacting harsher to any criminal with alcohol on their breath, those are the ones she’ll target in a fight and leave worse off.

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: N/A

[thepragmaticeclectic]

Many of my mental health issues stem from my childhood. As all psychologists will tell you, what you learn as a child will carry you through life and those things are the hardest to break. I have always felt like a burden. I come pre-programmed to believe that I come last;  that I am on the bottom of my own totem pole. I must hold everything else up, regardless of the weight I am carrying.

While there are some shining members of my biological family who have been there for me my entire life, the majority of them are the type who deny any wrong doing by those who they perceive as saintly... While telling you their own horror stories of those people. They will go on and on about how the poor are just looking for handouts while they look away from their poor, hard working family members that can barely make ends meet. They loudly support their own children and grand children with special needs while telling other family members with special needs children that they are going through a phase or misbehaving and don't need assistance. They will ensure, as business owners, that certain members of the family who agree with them have second jobs under the table to supplement their income while denying work to those who need it because they don't fit the aesthetic. They will lavish their own with homes, cars, gifts and other luxuries but refuse to help when another family member genuinely needs financial help. It all feels like the cliques in high school when you weren't pretty enough, rich enough, smart enough or popular enough to be a part of it, all the while cheering on about community spirit and support. The rampant hypocrisy and two-faced idealism is apparent to anyone who is not a part of their inner circle.

I was sent to live with my grandparents as a child after a lengthy custody battle that essentially pitted both sides of my family against one another. There were a number of people trying to keep me near my family, but the other side would argue until eventually it was denied and I ended up moving thousands of miles away under false pretenses and realized later that all of the promises made for me to visit, to be able to join programs and schools were squandered as the money that I had for school was spent without my knowledge. I did not know my grandparents when I moved. I didn't remember them from when I was an infant, yet suddenly here I was living with an alcoholic and a woman with, at the time in diagnosed, schizophrenia.

Within a year of moving there, my grandmother suffered a psychotic break and was placed in a mental health ward. This happened roughly every two to three years. I was accused of being the cause. I was told that because I misbehaved, she was overly stressed and could not cope. My family made countless excuses, including accusing my grandfather of infidelity with a 90 year old woman, the neighbor, his best friend's wife... And me. They refused to listen to my accounts of this woman hovering behind doorways with baseball bats, or of walking up and down the streets at night after stopping her medication, with a butcher knife in one hand and a rock in the other, screaming to the neighbors that someone was in her house... When it was only me. I would barricade myself in my room by pushing a dresser up against the door until the police came. And with in a few weeks, someone in the family would come down, collect her, and bring her back up north where she invariably would end up back in psychiatric care. Still they ignored the fact that she stole from them because she swore their family heirlooms belonged to her or the times that she would go to yard sales and buy baby clothes when no one was expecting and then tamper with her daughter in laws birth control. They would ignore the threatening phone calls she would make in the dead of night accusing my grandfather of sleeping with me while she was away.

And then they would let her come home.

As a result of all of this, I spent much of my time at friends houses and moved out at the age of 16. I only stayed in their house when she was on her trips here. I built my own extended family of friends and have kept them throughout my life;  brothers and sisters and their parents who accepted me as their own. I have been blessed with the most amazing people.

However, my home life, my relationships, were just as dysfunctional as it had been in my childhood. I desperately sought validation, love, acceptance. What I found instead were men who were selfish and ego driven that wanted to be served and blindly worshiped. Where I thought that I had met those who were like me in being the outcast and not quite fitting in, I found myself with the rebellious children seeking attention from their parents that used me as shock factor and constantly put me down because my background was lower than theirs when the relationship became too serious. I was always less. I was always beneath them. And because I had grown up to believe such, I stayed.

I will say that I am grateful in spite of it all that I am able to see things differently than most. I don't look at relationships as one-sided. I don't expect to be given anything without giving in return. I believe that what you give comes back to you... Or at least should. Mostly because I myself have not received such know kindness and don't want anyone else to feel that way. I learn from the mistakes of others and pay close attention to the actions of my other family members to see who is sincere and who is not. I don't blindly accept anyone at face value. I am honest with my children, to the point of transparency. There are no secrets in my home. They have heard my horror stories and know what has transpired in my life. Some think that this is wrong because they don't look up to certain family members as they should. I simply don't want my children to idolize people for no other reason than their age or space on the family tree. They are respectful. They are obedient. But they are not oblivious and I won't allow them to be so.