#i doubt ill ever start posting here frequently

[dzskarlet]

huh whuh huh #MyFirstPost

[ourladyofomega]

Before writing this final post of 2023, I was undecided of how good of a poker hand I’d end up with. ‘21 and ‘22 left no doubt what I finished with. This year, all the good and bad have scattered all over the place like chips spread across the roulette table - but we don’t usually play that game here, do we? No, we don’t. This year added on both the good and bad on top of the previous years before it - in even wider disparity.

So, where do we start?

The bad hit a little harder than it did last year. The customers were at their nastiest, competitive, and most egotistical. Having a verbally and emotionally abusive sales manager who saw fit to humiliate me in front of co-workers and literally yell at me for anything little reason he could didn’t help any. Fighting through under-staffing, wasted potential, not getting assistance when it really mattered, and making more mistakes and fuck-ups than ever made for a highly controversial final year at physical retail.

I pulled the plug on people I once considered “friends” who kept me on read when I asked for help, ghosted me during conversations, left me hanging all by myself as their comrades pretended I didn’t exist, and didn’t care about specific situations I had involving them. The spicy redheaded devil who played apologist for her closest friends - the same “friends” in the past who took me for everything they could and left a thick irreplaceable poison that’s still flowing in me. Or worse, unexpectedly running into former enablist co-workers, narcissistic managers, and manipulative college chads showing their obvious “oh-my-god!” faces and wanting to catch up with me. I told them to fuck right off forever - and never to speak to me again.

Luckily, I didn’t have as many hard pills to swallow like I used to. But, the sometimes unavoidable news of potentials’ long-suffering loneliness ending with exciting one-night stands, abrupt t.m.i., and their eye-opening bucket list to-do’s (that’d make Sasha Grey look like a straight-A honor student) made it a disappointing no-dice situation. Then, the deeper depressive spells of anxiety and hopelessness. The constant reminder of how rude, childish, and unnecessarily rude other people are around me. The change of plans, the blown calls of missing out on some holidays, or dropping the ball on attending some major shows (Alice Cooper headlining with Rob Zombie, Ministry, and Filter for one). The worst news came unexpectedly in late September when my sis- was dealt the Ace Of Spades and died in her sleep from complications of multiple sclerosis. I lost a major childhood component in her, and that visit to Bay Ridge will resonate with me for a long time.

Yes. This year’s losses were just more frequent and came at a slightly heavier cost. (Thankfully, not coming down to another personal devastation.) But, with every loss came with a win. And, wow, did these wins hit.

A brand new pinball arcade opened up in Patchogue to my total surprise, once again giving me a new portal in revisiting my Atari / Nintendo youth and forget my daily ills. It was there when I placed 3rd at their 4th of July tournament. The retro video arcade at the shopping center near me still offered a substantial modicum of hours-long fun until I was sick of it.

Though I lost my sister, I had some super essential moments with both of my families from Coney- and Staten Island respectively. I just celebrated an amazing Christmas over Italian foods, Secret Santas, gift-trades, and children screaming in eardrum-rattling unison; all ending with $100.00 cash-in-hand from my uncle, and a drive through the Belt Parkway and Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel to the train ride home to Penn Station. Fighting through the sluggish three-hour Friday rush-hour drive made getting to my cousin’s engagement party totally worth it; decorated with loud generic dee-jay standards, catching up under clear starry night skies, and having a near two-hour AM night-drive home over the Verrazzano Bridge and through the Brooklyn / Queens / Long Island Expressway.

I’ve attended some amazing shows in the past, but nothing would ever compare in experiencing Skinny Puppy’s final tours. I took no chances getting tickets and, holy Mother Mary, I made the right call. I would’ve never imagined meeting up with five other mutuals (some following me for years) in my hometown of New York City to witness industrial history. The best? Shaking hands with God Ministry’s Paul Barker himself; The Hero of All Heroes. He signed my copy of The Eternal Present as I almost died before him at the merch- table. I also attended Cold Waves XI and scratched Front Line Assembly off the must-see list, with visions of Hospital Productions’ 20th returning when I witnessed Orphx and Justin Broadrick a second time.

Then, my position. My final two months at my location were the toughest, meanest, and most unforgiving I’d ever put myself through. I endured so much that something had to be done because I knew I deserved better and didn’t want to live like this. So, I did a massive favor to myself. After 10 years with the company, I celebrated by getting an in-home position for virtual sales. I left all the massive amounts of stress behind and still stayed with the company while keeping my 401K, medical, and time-off in the process. Goodbye and good riddance to physical retail and the toxic undesirables that inhabit it…never to visit it again.

As an added bonus, I learned a lot more about myself and became the person I always wanted to be. I was fortunate in having the right people who changed it all and their inexplicable energy made me block those challenging persistent feelings of hollowness and despair. I taught myself to drop my guard, stop fearing the worst that could happen, and start putting my trust in people as nothing was at stake. That paid off in multitudes. I felt things I couldn’t before, because they allowed me to open up without persecuting or vilifying me for it.

I had more moments where I did great things for great people because they gave me nice ideas that were out-of-the-ordinary. Cakeday and Christmas boxes full of CDs, cassettes, and other fun stuff were exchanged which left two people wowed and many others in critical condition. Plenty of night-time phone calls were had about everything and nothing important at all, or the cries of concern that made me go all-in to help the other because there’s no taking chances. Most importantly: reciprocation, saying it right from the heart, a giving what people really want because you feel it and it’s the right thing to do.

**********

Now, what’s in the cards for next year?

I plan to revisit New York City more frequently. To start, I’m coming back to my childhood, and that all in Brooklyn. The Tokeneke, Bath Ave., Shore Road Park, Luna Park, and ultimately Borough Park where it all began. I’m even contemplating a mini-record store victory tour next year - all city. Long Island locales sit out this time as select Brooklyn and Manhattan stops better get ready for me and accept my hard-earned money. This would be Lina Romay-proportions of music porn if this happens.

As for everything else Omega, there’s no signs of slowing down as my radio show started Year 12. Its previous year had almost no bonus broadcasts from start to finish, but the current stockpile of artists and sounds across the board means I’m ready to unload when asked. The months-long process of digitizing my entire personal cassette dub library has finally been completed, which means I’ll have more time to dive into all my records, tapes, and discs that I purchased over the years that I've yet listened to, but now will.

Which reminds me:

Most of you know that I maintained a music -blr here: Ω+. I became an open-book and allowed my visitors, followers, mutuals, and even passers-by a peek into my personal life, listening, and purchasing habits. To this day, I still believe there’s no other extensive music blog like it here. It felt great posting sounds, artists, and releases no one else even thought or considered. I had so much fun with it and became one of the most exciting projects I ever done. Life-changing, even. Now, I no longer have the time or energy to keep up with sizeable, timely write-ups while staying on top of infinite music finds and dealing with Real-Life Syndrome.

I decided that it’s time to end it after 10 years of maintaining it.

However, I didn’t want to stop doing what still fascinates me. I stepped back, and realized that I can do it differently. I’m happy to say that I’m starting all over again and re-building it as Omega Remix (ΩRMX), a simpler, more stripped-down version of the original retaining the personal seasonal mixtapes, Omega WUSB playlists, best-of lists, personal posts, and more. No more numbered headers, no more aesthetic issues. It’ll be quicker and easier to do what keeps me going and in touch with anyone interested with what I’m listening to.

**********

I appreciate and thank (tremendously) everyone who joined up with me at a show, posted music finds, kept in touch, helped out, or did something nice for me this year. You know who you are. For any and all who liked, followed, and supported all things Omega, you’re also appreciated. Each and every one of you. Here's hoping we're still alive and dodge a massive authoritarian bullet by this year's end.

See you all in ‘24.

Winning hand: Aces full house over Deuces.

[brightgnosis]

It's kind of funny, actually, because the other day I rolled my eyes at a post here, on Tumblr, written by someone who was claiming they "couldn't trust" anyone who was Autistic and still trusted Therapists in any capacity, because "the system is traumatizing to Autistic people". And while I don't doubt that's certainly true for some people, the individual doesn't count for the whole; it's generally just such a stupid fucking projection of your own problems and trauma, based in a lack of (and probably refusal to allow yourself) healing.

But in a very similar vein, actually? At this point ... I'm actually kind of starting to feel similarly about my own communities and ingroups (and if I'm being honest, I've already felt this way about some of them for a while) ... Because at every single point in my life that I have been fucked over, abused, gaslit, and traumatized? It has nearly always (except incredibly rarely) specifically been by the very groups of people I'm a member of, who were supposed to be the ones who actually understood, could sympathize with, and were supposed to protect me: Other Queer people, other disabled people, other Pagans, and other Neurodivergents, etc.

But it was never them. It was never the people it was supposed to be. There was always some trial by fire or other bullshit- some hoop I had to jump through to earn my right to be "good enough" among my own people despite all of the empty platitudes many of these communities give about "inherent human worth" ... But that spiel's nothing but empty lipservice and fake two-faced bullshit. When it comes down to it? Absolutely no one actually believes that- or, at least, no one certainly acts like they should if they truly did believe it like they claim to.

Like ... It's actually incredibly fucked up that, for my entire life, it's been the people who are traditionally "the abusers" to most people in my ingroups (Cis people- esp Cis Men; Neurotypicals; Therapists; The Straights; Christians; etc) who've been the ones who've never laid a finger on me; who, in the vast majority of cases, have actually been far more supportive of my Neurodivergency, my disabilities and chronic illnesses, my gender and religion, and all the things they generally shouldn't be- especially not in rural bumfuck nowhere Oklahoma- than my own actual communities and ingroups dedicated to those very things have ever been.

And whenever I say this openly I literally get met with active skepticism, "I'm not saying I don't believe you buuttt" bullshit, and literal requests for fucking trauma dumping ... Like ??? I even have to fucking prove my trauma came from the sources I say it did among my own communities- which is fucked up on a completely different level.

That's not going to make me go running into their arms by any means, don't get me wrong; this isn't a "ra ra the queers are bad" or whatever kind of post, and it never will be; I'm also well aware of the fact that the fact I'm starting to become actively resentful and distrustful of my own communities because of just how much abuse and trauma I've suffered at their hands is a trauma response I do need to work on ... But let's fucking face the reality here without all the bullshit, shall we?

When the people who are supposed to understand you are actually more abusive than the people who are actually supposed to be the abusive ones ... There's a fucking problem. And that problem is made significantly worse by the fact that absolutely none of these communities are ever willing to just buck the fuck up and admit there's some shit that's not right, and take some accountability for the bullshit ways we can actually quite frequently be toxic (and even outright abusive) to our own members- especially when they don't "tow the established line of opinion" (whatever that flavor is this week).

I don't need a trauma response built up over decades of communal abuse to tell me it's not fucking right; that no matter which way you try to parse it, a pile of shit is still a heaping pile of shit. And I'm a country child, baby ... All shit needs to be shoveled eventually.

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

[rpbetter]

Hi! How do you distinguish between a mun who has favorites but still treats their non favorites with respect, and a mun who has favorites but uses this as an excuse to disrespect everyone else? Sometimes it's hard for me to tell, and I'd love to hear what you think.

Hey, Anon! That's actually a great question.

It's also totally reasonable to have a hard time telling. When you feel like you might be a little more into the threads than the other mun is, no matter how much they're being respectful and caring, it can still feel a bit...lame. We all want to be a favorite writing partner, even as we know that's impossible, that we can't manage that ourselves. It's not a thing of logic!

I feel like I should probably preface the detailing I'm about to do - this is only my experience. There are always variables in anything dealing with other people, and any time we're already feeling down, it's really easy to see things in a way that might not be the reality.

Alright, then.

Muns who use this as an excuse or justification for what they're doing tend to be the ones that:

are likely to pair the excuse/justification with aggressively vilifying anyone who takes issue with their treatment of them for being too serious about RP/too emotionally invested in anything from friendships to ships/otherwise "not realizing it's just a hobby" - apparently, "hobby" actually means "you're not making a dollar, so, do whatever you want in whatever way you want, so long as it's making you and only you happy and comfortable," who knew?

will lead muns on, either because they're uncomfortable with telling those who are not the favorites that...well, they're not the favorites and they might wish to just drop the threads or because...

they have a bit of a habit of going through favorites/their favorites take frequent breaks or are slower to reply, and it's good to have other muns around for when either situation happens - it's okay if everyone else is bored and/or left out, but not them

become angry and defensive if you ask them about your thread(s) and/or if everything is alright after a reasonable period of inactivity only on your threads*

if they previously had OOC contact and/or a friendship with you, it's one pole or another of OOC behavior with you now - no contact/as little as they can possibly manage or they'll proceed like you also only want to have conversations about what is going on with the favorite(s), the ships, the threads, the fandom, the mun. Before anyone misconstrues this to mean that "so, no matter what they do it's sus lol," no. There is such a thing as neither insulting someone by having nothing else to talk about except the mun/muse/ship you're ignoring them for nor just stopping/avoiding conversation altogether. It's actually not normal or acceptable to treat people like disposable fixations or expect them to be thrilled or lie about it when you can't shut up about their replacement(s)

in general, if this mun just keeps making it apparent that neither you nor anyone else exists unless they're the favored mun? That's really it. That's the difference between having favorites and still treating other muns with respect - there isn't any respect, none of you exist to respect

*I'm not going to speak to what is reasonable to everyone, it's one of those things I think muns should mention to some degree in their rules, but with people taking it to mean things it doesn't, it's doubtful that's going to happen. (I encourage it, though, please, put in your rules when you'll ask about threads or if you'll assume there is no more interest and they've been dropped. "After one month of no reply and no OOC contact, I will either contact you to ask if you're still interested." No big deal!) For me, it would depend on the mun themselves, even if I've got in my rules that after x time, I will assume y. If this is a mun that has updated OOC that they're extra slow right now, and they're usually pretty slow, I'm going to just see that as them prioritizing preferred partners with what little time they have, that's not coming across as rude favoritism to me at that point. If it's a mun that has continued to reply as normal, posted no updates OOC, and they're specifically just replying to one or two favorites with that regular timing, I'm going to ask if they're still interested after a month or so.

The problem always is that, despite what the RPC likes to say for the same damn reason, we're all afraid to be acting on ridiculous suspicion and paranoia. We get treated a certain way, maybe it is once and it was just extremely bad, maybe it has happened over and over again, and we really do start seeing phantoms of ill-treatment. It becomes difficult to trust your own judgment and listen to your inner voice (one that, furthermore, is already at least a bit embattled by life on and offline).

These are only some points to help you trust yourself or disprove yourself if you already feel like there might be this problem going on.

If you have someone who could be impartial when given evidence, you might want to consider asking if they'd mind helping you identify if this is a problem or not. Don't mention mun names or even muses if you're in the same intersections of the RPC, you're not trying to smear anyone here, just get a different viewpoint that isn't touched by any negative or positive feelings about that mun!

I said "evidence," so, I want to be clear that I did not mean screenshots or direct quotes. Give situations, what the mun is and is not doing, as both are important.

Some questions that might help you identify things to present to a third party for help:

Are they replying to any of your threads, how about asks?

If/when they reply to you IC, how do they reply? Is it shorter than it used to be, unenthusiastic? Or is it the same, just fewer and farther between, or less interesting to you than what they're doing with preferred partners?

Are the plots they're doing with the favorite(s) ones that you previously had with them or that you had plotted out and were working toward? And if that answer is yes, are these common plots that can be applied anywhere or specific ones?

Is this all something that is perhaps temporary overexcitement, or has this just kept going on for months, shows no sign of stopping?

Did you speak/were friends OOC? If so, how has this changed? Frequency of messaging, topics of conversation, enthusiasm, interest in you or your muse?

Are you now left out of games on the dash in which you used to be tagged, or unwelcome in things like "dash crack?" Is it, by contrast, that you might be welcome in the latter, but either it doesn't interest you by inclusion/focus of the favorite or because you lack a base of engagement with what's going on?

Do they send you memes, has that changed at all?

The way you feel is valid, but it might also be influencing the way you're viewing a situation, including in how you relate it to someone else for help. So, try to stick to actions when doing so.

By contrast, muns who have favorites but are not using this to justify being disrespectful to others tend to:

be open and upfront about having favorites and why - they're not trying to hide anything, including what makes their favorite writing partners, threads, and ships favorites to begin with

^they are not "open and upfront" by obnoxiously reminding everyone constantly who those favorites are, they're not shit posting how @munthatisntyou is their bestie/their muse is lusting after their muse/actually my wife. They are upfront about it by stating in their rules they can, will, and do have favorites. They're open about it by not lying or acting like it's the worst accusation ever when someone asks them about it

definitely have priority threads, might have an easier, thus faster, time responding to questions/prompts regarding those threads/ships, but still respond with equal interest to memes from others*

the same is true of interest and turnaround time with thread replies, they might get the preferred ones out faster, but they're still replying to everyone and still keeping other muns updated on what's going on*

will not be hostile when approached by fair, politely put concerns about threads, but rather, will respond with honesty as to their interests - whether they have, indeed, changed or haven't alike

they still express the same interest OOC outside of messages, liking and commenting on posts, sending memes, and being concerned or congratulatory when they see OOC posts dealing with life events

in general, muns who just have favorites like everyone does remain aware of others in the same way they always have, still make efforts to respond to threads, memes, messages, etc. with the same interest they always have - they appreciate everyone they interact with, not only their favorite(s)

*Everyone has a different way that works for them, and that influences their meme answering, thread replying, and OOC response turnaround time. A very social mun might respond to OOC messages more frequently, reliably, and with more zeal than a mun who is less socially active, forgetful, or dealing with different difficulties that might prevent doing so, for example. As another example, a mun who writes lengthy, detailed novella that takes a while to finish is going to take longer with everyone than a mun who writes in a way, or just has more time to write, that allows for replies to get out faster. Please, keep expectations and observances mindful of these factors and differences! What is typical of one mun might be perceived as legitimate favoritism when contrasted with a mun who operates differently than them.

That's really the difference, there is recognition and appreciation of everyone. They might have a visibly different friendship with their favorite(s), but it doesn't come with the cost of treating everyone else either like they don't exist or like total shit. And that comes in many ways, as many ways as there are possible interactions in the RPC. From being casual mutuals who do not write together (still acknowledging posts etc.) to outright writing partners (still giving replies with as much effort and quality).

You can think of muns like this as you would people who have different sorts of friendships as opposed to people who have rather cliquey friendships in which it's often enough a clique of two in which everyone else, even if included or otherwise used by those two, only exists out of necessity. The former is a normal social situation, we get on well with the people we do for a reason, and that's perfectly alright. The latter is some immature and self-interested behavior one should have grown out of in junior high.

As you didn't ask for this, I'm putting it under the cut as additional advice for others!

If you feel like someone is being disrespectful, or worse, and is glossing it over with "it's okay for people to have favorites, calm down" (a thing that's totally true but not meant to be used to excuse shitty behavior), you really do want to just remove yourself from the situation. In a situation like that, you're not going to change their behavior, and even if you did, are you ever going to be able unsee it?

What is more likely to happen is you'll be growing the seed of upset they planted into a big tree of animosity. Every time you are on your dash and see them replying or tagging their favorite(s), you're going to be either hurt or angry. Eventually, it's impossible to separate which of those things you are, and it's increasingly likely you're going to say or do something regrettable. And I mean regrettable in how it is likely to negatively affect you. You don't deserve to be branded a terrible person for an outburst. The situation has been bad enough.

Whether you should soft block to unfollow and force an unfollow, hard block, unfollow with or without communication is all subject to too many variables for me to advise any single course of action.

If it's possible to communicate politely that you're officially dropping threads or unfollowing, I will always advise doing so. If that isn't possible because this mun has been that terrible, or has proven in the past that they will react badly to such communications, then so be it, just quietly remove yourself from their presence.

You owe friends, even former ones if they've not done you awfully, the decency of communicating that you're ending things. You owe mutuals who haven't done anything more than ignoring you (as awful as that is, it's not as bad as being aggressively disrespectful, lying to you, leading you on, etc.) that decency and maturity as well. You do not owe anyone who has behaved like an immature ass that decency, it's okay to just leave in those cases. As it is in situations when you feel confident that speaking to them is going to cause drama for you.

When a mun hasn't ever really interacted with you, you've become mutuals, but it never went anywhere because they were already engaged in ignoring everyone except the favorite(s), it's alright to just leave quietly, too. They clearly don't register that you exist, so...don't exist. Go exist around muns who know you're there. But the caveat to that should be that if they decide to notice your vacant spot on the dash and come to you to ask about this, you should answer them. Be honest, but polite. Tell them that you just didn't see working out with them after all, and since you hadn't interacted, you unfollowed.

You never know (you just shouldn't count on it), in that latter case especially, that mun might honestly not be aware of the effect of their actions. Like everyone else, they're just doing what they enjoy, what makes them happy is what they're concentrated on, and might genuinely just have a narrow field of vision on it until spoken to.

Whatever is right for the unique situation at hand, don't lie to someone if they message you about it. Don't just act like it was an accidental unfollow or a tumblr glitch, grit your teeth, and add them back so that there is no unpleasantness. There is already unpleasantness if you felt the need to distance yourself from them, remember that!

[originalwinnercheesecake]

Chain of Iron theories: Who is the Killer

Its coming up on a week since last made a COI theory post. I said that I was going to try to post all my theories on COI BEFORE it comes out next month, so this posed a problem. So mow I am going to give my input on one of the biggest Mystery’s for COI, Who is the Killer? So in COI Belial will have a new minion who will target the shadowhunters, manages to kill 5 of them (same number Tatiana needed for the ritual) and is difficult for them to apprehend because they are somehow able to disappear. CC has left some hints that the killer is actually another Shadowhunter that Belial has somehow managed taken Possession of, despite protection rituals that should have been placed on this individual at birth ( My theory on that is that since this book is called “Chain of Iron” we will learn that Belial controls all his pawns with “chains of iron”. All hidden on their persons and glamored to look like ordinary accessories.) Our synapse for the book says that James Herondale has been having strange nightmares and fears he may actually be the killer. In COI he will start to tie himself up to sleep at night. We all know its not James right? In mysteries like this you always throw out your first guess/ the obvious guess. I have seen a lot of posts theorizing on who the true identity could be. I have seen some theories do not make much sense to me and some that were really good.

One theory that seems off to me is the idea that the killer is actually multiple killers, more specifically a collection of the survivors of Belial’s illness. If you support this theory I get your reasoning:Belial was able to briefly posses these people before, and the illness may have left biological changes in them. But here’s where I am confused, the killer is implied to be a massive threat wielding enhanced dark magic. At the end of COA there are 30something cured shadowhunters released from Silent City. CC says that the killers body count will be 5. If Belial has 30something new pawns that he can posses, gift his terrible powers to, and send out to prey on shadowhunters, I feel like there should be a lot more than 5 victims. I know Beial is not yet at full strength from battling Cortana, but he should at least be stronger than that. I have also heard theories that it is one of the Blackthorns. This also does not make much sense to me, given that for one thing none of them have training, Tatiana and Grace already have established rolls in Belial’s plans, and while I know Jesse is a part of Belial’s plan I believe his part will be save for COT after he has been resurrected. IF Belial were using Jesse’s empty body to walk the earth, then wouldn’t he also need to stop anyone from trying to resurrect Jesse?

 I have heard many theories on Elias Carstairs being the killer. Many of them just want to make Elias out to be CC’s newest and most horrible monster parent, and absolve Alastair of any responsibility or need to apologize for the cruelty he has shown to our mains. If this is your reasoning for believing Elias is the killer than let me stop you right there. CC has written multiple series and her skills have evolved beyond the need to rely on such easy black and white tricks. But I also saw some people posting about how Elias goes home so late and stopped writing to his family. Some are theorizing that the real Elias Carstairs was intercepted and killed on his way back home and that the being that arrives in COI is actually an eidolon demon pretending to be Elias. This theory is AMAZING. It makes a lot of scenes, would give Belial another spy in a key place, and could potentially explain why Cortana starts acting so weird. I love this theory I do. I am just putting it t the side right now because I need the real Elias alive for other Carstairs family theories, and again have been working with the theory that the killer is a real shadowhunter whom Belial is controlling with another “chain of iron”. My theories are below.

1.) Lucie Herondale is the Killer

 I am working with he theory that all Belial’s pawns have “chains of Iron” on them, which means all three blackthorns have them. In old art CC released of Grace she is seen wearing a pearl necklace that I was convinced had to be her’s. Tatiana’s (who probably consented to wearing hers) could be anything, maybe that stupid, creepy bird, she wears in her hat. Jesse... is mentioned several times to wear a locket.... that we know is connected to Belial.... and was weakened when he took it off to give to Lucie... who is wearing it now. Do you people see where I am going with this? It can also be noted that one of the parts of Lucie’s arc is that she is frequently overlooked in favor of James and how that is a mistake on peoples parts.  Everybody knows that James has powers, he has had 4-5 years of people helping him figure out what they are and how to control them. Nobody but ghosts know that Lucie has powers, she has no training, and is only starting to understand what they mean. James is vulnerable but so is Lucie. I do not want her to be the killer. Lucie is such a fun character, and I was so happy to finally have a female Herondale play a role that was close in size to her male relative’s. I truly feel that Lucie deserves better than to be just a tragic character in the story. I want her to be that plus a hero, but I cannot deny that she is a possibility.

2.) Charles Fairchild is the Killer

I have seen Charles name appear on multiple lists of theory’s on the killer’s identity. People never really give reasons as to why they believe he is the killer. They are just mad at him for choosing to put his career higher on his list of priorities than his relationship with Alastair, or him being the killer would hurt less because he is not written to be a fan favorite. If you are someone who wants the killer to be Charles, but are unsure how likely it is your in luck. Because I can give you a whole list of reasons it is likely

Charles is already acting strange. We know he made some kinda screw up in Paris and had to come home. Apparently Charlotte is sending Tessa and Will to Paris to Start the fix up and Charles will go back afterwards. Well based on what we have gotten on Charles making a mistake like that is unlike him. Casting Long Shadow’s reveals that Charles has been working as a politician since he was 13 and is normally known for being very dependable and reliable. That’s part of the reason he is considered such a shoe-in for Counselor once his mother retires.??? I have theories on Charles mental state (which I will address in a later theory post that will be centered around the Fairchild’s) and do consider the possibility that he was sett off by fear over the outbreak or grief over losing Alastair... But this sudden change could be from other things as well

As of COG2 Charles is engaged to Grace Blackthorn, who controls him like a puppet. Grace herself is the puppet of Tatiana Blackthorn, who is the puppet of Belial. So Charles is now part of a very dangerous carnival. Charles decade of study and knowledge of clave politics at the top could be very useful to Belial in taking them down. Also previous short stories say that Charles spends most of his time in Idris for work and when in London usually stays at home going through law books and records. So I could easily believe he does not completely  know his way around London and (like the killer is hinted to) would need to use a map to get around.

Now on to my biggest reason for theorizing Charles for the killer. Charles and Matthew’s relationship with each other. Charles and Matthew do not get along, like at all. They did once, but that was a real long time ago. A lot of the reasons they don’t get along is dumb sibling stuff: Charles calling Matthew an immature child, kicking him and his friends out of rooms in their house, and lording his increased age over Matthew. Matthew making more noise to annoy Charles, telling everyone Charles embarrassing middle name, and regularly sneaking into Charles room to steal his cologne instead of just buying his own. We are not hear to discuss any of that. All of that has me laughing because it is peak sibling rivalry. Rivalry aside Charles and Matthew model  the old dynasty trope for Ssons with Charles being “the Heir” and Matthew being “the Spare”. The Heir’s life is decided for them as soon as they are born, they will succeed their parent and continue their legacy. The Spare is just that, a back up plan kept around should the heir die, become disabled, never marry, or turn out to be infertile (happens way more than people like to think about). Charles struggles with the weight of his parents expectations. Matthew is more or less the Black sheep of his family, living his life day by day with no grand plan. Because of this he is cut off from them in a way, and goes through a lot of loneliness and isolation in his own house. Neither brother see’s the others hard time; the other has what they themselves want: Charles has attention, Matthew freedom, so they wrongly assume the other must be doing fine. This is a lot like Matthew and James relationship in Dust and Shadows. Matthew and James talked things over with each other and were good after. Matthew and Charles stay apart and ignore each other when they cannot. They will not just talk and be good after. So maybe if put on different sides they will fight out their issues with each other? On the subject of Matthew having to fight Charles, lets say hypothetically Charles is the killer and is possessed. We know from previous books that clave protocol is to place a kill order on possessed members. If that becomes the case do you think Matthew would be able to follow through with those orders? Be able to hunt, fight, and kill his older brother? No. No matter how rough their relationship I doubt Matthew would ever be able to do that. It would be to much for him, to similar to his “sin”. He would want to catch Charles, then try to find a way to free him from possession. Maybe if Mathew could successfully accomplish this then maybe he could forgive himself for his “sin”. If Matthew tries to save him and fails than at least this time other people would know and could potentially get him some help.  

3.) Filomena DI Angelo is the Killer.

Ahh our upcoming new arrival from  Italy. Why are you coming to London girl? Haven’t you heard about all the crazy things that happens there last fall? What possible role could you play in the story that couldn’t be filled by one of our many already existing characters from COG2? (Do you even know your way around?) How suspicious that Filomena should show up around the same time as this killer? Wouldn’t it be great for the story if the killer came from a different country? Wouldn’t that do wonders for showing how powerful a threat Belial is? His dark influence stretching across country lines, maybe even across oceans! We have already been told that TLH characters will need to travel to other countries. How the villain is less one person and more a force. Filomena could start that. She could provide reason to search countries besides London for Belial’s influence. Proof of it being so wide spread would definitely make Belial feel more like a force. Oh but wait, cheesecake wait. Filomena cannot be the killer! That would make her evil, and CC said she was a nice girl! Oh I am sure Filomena is a nice girl, but people tend to change when under demon control. But she is a girl and the killer is hinted to be a male shadow hunter! Are we sure the killer isn’t presented as male because Belial is presented as male? Is it impossible that while on the hunt as the killer Filomena DI Angelo dress in men’s cloths in order to more safely move through the streets? I feel like we have saw that trick once before in TID.

All we really know about Filomena is that she came to London, will interact with some of our established characters, and she will get a crush on someone we know, thus presenting herself as a possible love interest. Matthew was my first guess, hey he was every bodies first guess. CC shut that down, Filomena is not being brought in to fix the love triangle between James, Cordeila, and Matthew. Matthew is one of the only ones to not have at a least semi-confirmed endgame ship. So this means that Filomena will probably not be endgame with her crush. Why?   My next guess was her crush was on Anna. Ariadne is shown to be relentless in her attempts to “win Anna back” and Anna is not having it. Tweets time and time again depict her basically telling Ariadne “Its not going to happen. Give up and leave me alone”, but falling on deaf ears. So maybe Anna will try to get a new girlfriends and keep her around until she is ready to forgive/ go back to Ariadne. Well Anna is more a secondary character, a loving big sister figure to our mains. She gets less page time because of this. We already know she will spend time with Cordelia, Lucie, Ariadne, Eugenia, Thomas... not much page time left for Filomena. After further analyses I have theorized that Filomena must have a crush on Thomas.

A quick google search on the name Filomena shows that it is an Italian name that means “loving friend” “strong friend” and “lover of music” all these sound kinda like Thomas. (Filomena is also the name of a character in the 14th century Italian collection  of short stories called the Decameron, who liked to make stories up about plagues... or so some digging around google told me ). This could fit quite nicely into Thomas’s story. First of all to everybody who has been calling Thomas “gay” please wait a moment to be sure. Thomas does not yet publicly or self identify as gay. He clearly has an attraction to one man, but CC says that he has not yet realized his sexuality and will spend TLH figuring out. He might be gay, but he could just as easily turn out to be bi or pan. For the sake of this theory lets assume Thomas is Bi. Thomstair is definitely endgame. We know Alastair is gay, and CC usually likes to pair gay characters up with bi characters in queer ships, see Malec and Heline. Should Thomas be bi, should he start to become close and develop feelings for Filomena, it will have to go wrong. More wrong than he considers his feelings for Alastair at the end of COG2 (Filomena do not hurt this boy, he has been through enough). We got a tweet that suggests Thomas is interested in the killer, and a hint that he is planing something big. We got a kinda frightening picture that suggests the Killer may be very interested in Thomas.

If Lucie is the killer she will somehow be freed from Belial’s control,. I can 100% guarantee it, Charles I feel will have a 50/50 chance, Filomena will die from it. It would be a herculean task to free her, and she is not important enough to the mains for them to actively try and do anything more than give her a merciful death. Should she and Thomas become close than it will break his heart. But if Alastair is there for him afterwards, able to emphasizes and offer him comfort that will go along way to redeeming Alastair to Thomas. The whole experience could be love is hard, both men and women have the ability to hurt you. but the right person will make it up to you and it is good to forgive them when they do. I personally think that would be a pretty cool direction for Thomas’s arc to take.

[readeity]

Unfinished WIP #1 - Din Djarin

Hi guys! I don’t post much writing on my tumblr but I think I’d like to start. To ease into that kind of thing, here’s a snippet from an unfinished fic I started a month or two ago. I have 70+ pages of unfinished snippets in one google doc (of many) so I might do this again! We’ll see

Fandom: The Mandalorian 

Warning(s): Arguing, mentions of slavery, miscommunication, fear of physical violence due to past trauma? This sounds more intense than I think the fic actually is.  

“I do not CARE about your face! Why is that so hard to understand?!” You shriek at him, your voice reaching the high whistle-tone it gets when you’re struggling to keep from slipping into your natural pitch.

“LIAR!” Mando shouts back, as if he knows your thoughts better than you. “I saw you! I trusted you to guard me while I was ill and you wandered the room without a blindfold!” 

You stare at this stupid, stupid man and wish you could have loved someone whose head was not filled with beskar. “Mando,” You say and you’re so, so tired. 

And maybe a bit hurt, too. 

He cuts you off, a sharp gesture of his hand cutting through the air between you. “I never should have trusted you. It would’ve been better if I left you on Hrytha.” 

Your mouth drops open and you flinch back at that. 

[he’s never seen you flinch like that] 

Your mouth snaps closed abruptly and your face goes to the blank slate you always used to wear. 

[there are tears in your glossy black eyes and he hadn’t realized you’d been showing more emotion around him until now, now that he can see your face crumple and your features twist, the way your hand reflexively twitches toward the wound on your wrist where binders had cut in too deep] 

Hrytha. A jungle planet, plenty of lakes and rivers, hot and humid and seemingly perfect for a semi-aquatic species like yourself. Also dangerous, with plenty of smugglers and slavers and traffickers. And collectors, you’d discovered personally.

He wishes he’d left you on Hrytha, in the hands of a being who would keep you tied to a platform, to a tiny little manmade pool, performing tricks for others’ amusement. A pet. A treasured pet that could be loaned out to other collectors however frequently or infrequently the collector pleases. Kept in chains. 

He would’ve left on Hrytha if he could. 

You don’t bother to explain any further. You keep your mouth shut and your face blank [the way your masters preferred it] and you don’t point out that a blindfold is half-useless on you. That you were made to see in the darkness of the deep oceans of your home, and no darkened room will compare. 

That you move surely in the dark, even when your eyes are closed, because your species can use echo-location, just as a Togruta can use their montrals to sense their surroundings. 

That a blindfold can slip off, and you could hardly open your eyes to find it. Not when you respected Mando and his belief in his Creed so much.

It would make no difference, now. Or maybe it would - for him. But not for you, not now that he has made it very clear just what his opinion of you and your morals is. 

You give a brisk nod [your eyes slip shut and a tear doesn’t slip down your cheek but your expression makes Mando think that maybe there’s a larger chance of tears than he would have thought. guilt seeps in and a bit of doubt and he takes a step forward, his hand moving from his side, maybe he’s wrong, maybe he should apologize -]

Mando takes a step forward, hand rising, and you move back, pressed against the cold metal bulkhead of the Razor Crest. You don’t flinch really but your eyes widen and your head is pressed to the metal behind you and your small freckles begin to glow softly, bioluminescence activating as the feeling of threat registers.

He stops dead, hand hanging in the air between the two of you. The glow from your face throws the angles of his helmet into sharp relief and your eyes, wide and scared, stay locked on the hand you know can kill and hurt [and clean your wounds, brushing bacta, gentle touches to guide you through a market, he’s not like the collectors, he’s different - but maybe he’s not. You’ve been fooled before.]

He stares at you with your wide black eyes and fear on your face and the feeling of threatened and scared obvious with every dot of bioluminescence lighting up your body, and he doesn’t move. 

[you’re afraid of him, you flinched from him, you thought he would hurt you, there is a possibility in your mind that he could ever raise a hand to you, that he could ever press against your skin and want to hurt, as if there is any world where Dyn Djarrin could do that]

[lorata]

important question: you mentioned wand woods, so what Is everyone's? also ideally with some sort of explanation but valid if not

I CLAIM DIPLOMATIC IMMUNITY FOR THIS POST

this is going in no particular order because I'm scouring chatlogs

Under the cut because it's long, I took the descriptions from pottermore since I think they're fairly self-explanatory? but I can talk more about someone specific if anyone has questions

Claudius: Hazel

A sensitive wand, hazel often reflects its owner’s emotional state, and works best for a master who understands and can manage their own feelings. Others should be very careful handling a hazel wand if its owner has recently lost their temper, or suffered a serious disappointment, because the wand will absorb such energy and discharge it unpredictably. The positive aspect of a hazel wand more than makes up for such minor discomforts, however, for it is capable of outstanding magic in the hands of the skillful, and is so devoted to its owner that it often ‘wilts’ (which is to say, it expels all its magic and refuses to perform, often necessitating the extraction of the core and its insertion into another casing, if the wand is still required) at the end of its master’s life (if the core is unicorn hair, however, there is no hope; the wand will almost certainly have ‘died’). Hazel wands also have the unique ability to detect water underground, and will emit silvery, tear-shaped puffs of smoke if passing over concealed springs and wells.

Brutus: Fir Cedar

My august grandfather, Gerbold Octavius Ollivander, always called wands of this wood ‘the survivor’s wand,’ because he had sold it to three wizards who subsequently passed through mortal peril unscathed. There is no doubt that this wood, coming as it does from the most resilient of trees, produces wands that demand staying power and strength of purpose in their true owners, and that they are poor tools in the hands of the changeable and indecisive. Fir wands are particularly suited to Transfiguration, and favour owners of focused, strong-minded and, occasionally, intimidating demeanour.

@amusedmuralist HAS CONVINCED ME that my original “for the lulz” answer of a cedar wand (because he has a cedar allergy) is actually a perfect choice so SORRY BRUTUS YOU GET THE CEDAR WAND

Whenever I meet one who carries a cedar wand, I find strength of character and unusual loyalty. My father, Gervaise Ollivander, used always to say, ‘you will never fool the cedar carrier,’ and I agree: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I would go further than my father, however, in saying that I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them.

Devon: Pear

This golden-toned wood produces wands of splendid magical powers, which give of their best in the hands of the warm-hearted, the generous and the wise. Possessors of pear wands are, in my experience, usually popular and well-respected. I do not know of a single instance where a pear wand has been discovered in the possession of a Dark witch or wizard. Pear wands are among the most resilient, and I have often observed that they may still present a remarkable appearance of newness, even after many years of hard use.

Misha: Sycamore

The sycamore makes a questing wand, eager for new experience and losing brilliance if engaged in mundane activities. It is a quirk of these handsome wands that they may combust if allowed to become ‘bored,’ and many witches and wizards, settling down into middle age, are disconcerted to find their trusty wand bursting into flame in their hand as they ask it, one more time, to fetch their slippers. As may be deduced, the sycamore’s ideal owner is curious, vital and adventurous, and when paired with such an owner, it demonstrates a capacity to learn and adapt that earns it a rightful place among the world's most highly-prized wand woods.

Petra: Red Oak

You will often hear the ignorant say that red oak is an infallible sign of its owner’s hot temper. In fact, the true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect duelling wand. Less common than English oak, I have found that its ideal master is light of touch, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive, trademark spells, and a good man or woman to have beside one in a fight. Red oak wands are, in my opinion, among the most handsome.

Selene: Spruce

Unskilled wandmakers call spruce a difficult wood, but in doing so they reveal their own ineptitude. It is quite true that it requires particular deftness to work with spruce, which produces wands that are ill-matched with cautious or nervous natures, and become positively dangerous in fumbling fingers. The spruce wand requires a firm hand, because it often appears to have its own ideas about what magic it ought to be called upon to produce. However, when a spruce wand meets its match - which, in my experience, is a bold spell-caster with a good sense of humour - it becomes a superb helper, intensely loyal to their owners and capable of producing particularly flamboyant and dramatic effects.

Alec: Rowan

Rowan wood has always been much-favoured for wands, because it is reputed to be more protective than any other, and in my experience renders all manner of defensive charms especially strong and difficult to break. It is commonly stated that no Dark witch or wizard ever owned a rowan wand, and I cannot recall a single instance where one of my own rowan wands has gone on to do evil in the world. Rowan is most happily placed with the clear-headed and the pure-hearted, but this reputation for virtue ought not to fool anyone - these wands are the equal of any, often the better, and frequently out-perform others in duels.

Creed: Cypress

Cypress wands are associated with nobility. The great medieval wandmaker, Geraint Ollivander, wrote that he was always honoured to match a cypress wand, for he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death. Fortunately, in these less blood-thirsty times, the possessors of cypress wands are rarely called upon to lay down their lives, though doubtless many of them would do so if required. Wands of cypress find their soul mates among the brave, the bold and the self-sacrificing: those who are unafraid to confront the shadows in their own and others’ natures.

Dash: Alder

Alder is an unyielding wood, yet I have discovered that its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards.

Paul Valent: Poplar

“If you seek integrity, search first among the poplars,” was a great maxim of my grandfather, Gerbold Ollivander, and my own experience of poplar wands and their owners tallies exactly with his. Here is a wand to rely upon, of consistency, strength and uniform power, always happiest when working with a witch or wizard of clear moral vision. There is a tired old joke among lesser wandmakers that no poplar wand has ever chosen a politician, but here they show their lamentable ignorance: two of the Ministry’s most accomplished Ministers for Magic, Eldritch Diggory and Evangeline Orpington, were the possessors of fine, Ollivander-made poplar wands.

Julia Valent: Hawthorn

The wandmaker Gregorovitch wrote that hawthorn ‘makes a strange, contradictory wand, as full of paradoxes as the tree that gave it birth, whose leaves and blossoms heal, and yet whose cut branches smell of death.’ While I disagree with many of Gregorovitch’s conclusions, we concur about hawthorn wands, which are complex and intriguing in their natures, just like the owners who best suit them. Hawthorn wands may be particularly suited to healing magic, but they are also adept at curses, and I have generally observed that the hawthorn wand seems most at home with a conflicted nature, or with a witch or wizard passing through a period of turmoil. Hawthorn is not easy to master, however, and I would only ever consider placing a hawthorn wand in the hands of a witch or wizard of proven talent, or the consequences might be dangerous. Hawthorn wands have a notable peculiarity: their spells can, when badly handled, backfire.

Kit Valent: Walnut

Highly intelligent witches and wizards ought to be offered a walnut wand for trial first, because in nine cases out of ten, the two will find in each other their ideal mate. Walnut wands are often found in the hands of magical innovators and inventors; this is a handsome wood possessed of unusual versatility and adaptability. A note of caution, however: while some woods are difficult to dominate, and may resist the performance of spells that are foreign to their natures, the walnut wand will, once subjugated, perform any task its owner desires, provided that the user is of sufficient brilliance. This makes for a truly lethal weapon in the hands of a witch or wizard of no conscience, for the wand and the wizard may feed from each other in a particularly unhealthy manner.

Adessa: Elm

The unfounded belief that only pure-bloods can produce magic from elm wands was undoubtedly started by some elm wand owner seeking to prove his own blood credentials, for I have known perfect matches of elm wands who are Muggle-borns. The truth is that elm wands prefer owners with presence, magical dexterity and a certain native dignity. Of all wand woods, elm, in my experience, produces the fewest accidents, the least foolish errors, and the most elegant charms and spells; these are sophisticated wands, capable of highly advanced magic in the right hands (which, again, makes it highly desirable to those who espouse the pure-blood philosophy).

I CANNOT find anywhere that I wrote down what wand Lyme has but I'm 90% certain that she and Julia had the same one? I liked the idea of her having the death/healing wand, since that's basically her life.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hey can I get some headcanons of your relationship with your F/O parents bc y’all are such a cute family dynamic and I wanna hear more about how you all interact🥰💗

and @arianatheangelworld 

asdfghjkl; omgggg~ you’re all gonna kill me asghj 🥺😭😭thank you darlings omggg ~ 🥰🥰🥰💗 I hope that you all enjoy this, it’s always so bittersweet but also so comforting and fun to explore my dynamic with my parental F/Os and, well... isn’t that the point of it all?💖 Thank you thank you thank you for supporting and enabling me omggg ~ 💙😊

Word count: 3, 184 (holy shit I am so sorry... not😂)

It’s a quiet life, but there’s lots of underlying tensions beneath it all.

By quiet, I mean because I spend my days in my bedroom studying (not so far from reality, these relationships😂) but there are underlying tensions because no one in the household knows who Edward Hyde really is - it’s a secret between my parents and I. 

What that means is that it’s tricky for Papa and myself to spend time with one another if other members of the household are awake - as far as they are concerned, Father is my parent and so is Mama, and Papa has no part in that. So as you can imagine, questions would be raised if Papa and I are caught spending too much time together (plus, this is set in the Victorian Era, so you can imagine the scandal of an unmarried twenty-three year old woman spending lots of time alone in a room, unchaperoned, with a man old enough to be her father...)

This is why Papa and I only have our time together late into the night, when said members of the household have gone to bed and it’s only my parents and I who are awake. It’s safer for all of us that way - it protects Father and his name, his reputation and his career, which in turn protects the household members from being turned out onto the streets due to a lack of employment and this in turn protects Father’s family, who always come first.

From the moment I wake up, my parents are there. As you’ve probably gathered from previous posts, I sleep with my parents a lot so it isn’t unusual for me to wake up with one of them. Rare and special occasions mean that I get to wake up with Mama and either Father or Papa. 

Mama’s always up by five in the morning or she’ll fall behind on her chores so if she’s the one I slept with in the night, then I’ll get up when she does. She always insists that I go back to bed and that I go to sleep, but I rarely do. I much prefer to have those early hours with her so that I can help her with her chores and maybe, if I’m very lucky... I’ll get to be the one who takes Father his breakfast tray so that I get to see him early in the morning and so that I can crawl into his bed and get me some extra cuddles before I start my day.

If I sleep in with Father, then the opposite happens and I’m woken up when he gets brought his breakfast tray (7 AM on the dot!), and of course I end up getting up when he does because even though he won’t kick me out of his bed, he also knows that if he leaves me to my own devices in a soft, warm bed, I’ll end up falling asleep until noon and then I’ll beat myself up about it, so he makes sure I am awake and up before he’s done with his breakfast (and if Mama knows I slept in with Father, she’ll bring me some breakfast too!) to save me any emotional distress. 

Father always wakes me up gently... up until a certain point. He will shake me gently while saying my name, which usually gets a sleepy groan from me. Then, it’s onto talking, with his voice going from a whisper and increasing in volume until he’s just above his normal speaking level. He never raises his voice at me and we all know why. If that doesn’t work, then Father will just “accidentally” pull the covers off of me. He isn’t subtle, but he also isn’t mean about it, and if I do genuinely need some more sleep, then he will let me have that. But for the most part, he makes sure that I’m up once he is on the nights I’m in his bed.

I never ever get to wake up with Papa. It just doesn’t happen for various reasons. Firstly, because Papa’s constantly moving around like a lion stuck in a cage and he loves me dearly but not enough to stay in one place for more than a few hours unless he’s already sleeping. Secondly, because he can’t be caught in my bed or vice versa by anyone other than Mama to protect Father’s name etc. Thirdly, I may wake up to Papa crawling into my bed or easing himself in his own if I fell asleep in his bed, but I don’t ever get to start my day with Papa. Our time is night time and that has to be non-negotiable. It does upset me if I wake up in an especially needy mood, but Father and Mama will get me through the day in the meantime.

Mama likes to sneak me items of Papa’s or Father’s clothing to wear when I go to bed. She’s not supposed to but Mama is sleight of hand and I can be quick when I need to be. She and I often have silent conversations in a crowded room and all it takes is for Mama to “accidentally” make a noise, like a quick scuffing of her boot on the floor or for her knuckles to make a noise against the wooden table and I just look at her.  Mama catches my eye and then gives me A Look before she turns back to her ironing. I walk past and at the point where our lower bodies are hidden by the ironing board, she stuffs an unironed shirt in my hand (usually Papa’s) and I walk off, the shirt stowed away under my arm and then placed for safe-keeps under my pillow for the night time. Sometimes it might be one of her night-dresses, but I am comfier in either Papa or Father’s clothes.

There are so many secrets between myself and my parents which are kept from the other members of the household. Between all three of us, we manage it as best as we can, though I have no doubt that the others think we're a little odd. 😊

There are periods which are weeks long where Father is so busy in his laboratory that no one sees him. It's communication .via. letters on the stairs and that's all anyone hears from him. Mama and I worry immensely but Father's always been this way and all we can do is be patient and wait for him. He's a workaholic and he often makes himself sick from all of the working and everyone in the household knows what to do when these times arise, which are getting more frequent as Father gets older.

In especially bad times, even Mama won't be able to get through to Father. I get upset if that's the case, because if he shuts away the one person he loves above all else, it's a serious warning sign. Mama and I have a pact that if she can't get through, then I will. Father is always so protective of me, and now it's my turn to protect him. I take this very seriously, understandably so, and I wait up until two or three in the morning, so late that even Mama's gone to bed and is sleeping. I wait in his study for that time, reading one of his old medical journals, and then I go downstairs, out the back door, and into the laboratory.

It's freezing in there because there's where Father used to carry out dissections and lectures back before his illness (never canonically diagnosed but it's believed to be depression or similar) got worse, so I always take him his old smoking jacket (which doubles as my blanket when I take naps in his study). By this time in the night, Father will be so tired and sleep-deprived that he's more likely to be honest with me, and it's for this reason that I also stayed up so late - Father will assume I'm unable to sleep because I'm so worried about him, and while that's true, it's also because I know him well enough to know what time of night is best for an intervention. Yes, it's slightly manipulative on my end of things, but I am my Papa's daughter and it's with good intentions so I don't linger on this thought for too long. It won't do me any good and my Father's most important. I'd do anything for him.

I find Father where I knew he would be - scribbling in a journal by candlelight, his fingers covered in ink, his hair a mess, yawning every few seconds. A cold plate of mutton is left forgotten by his elbow, only half eaten. I'm just like him when I study so I don't lecture my Father on his bad eating habits -he and I have the same work ethic so I would be a hypocrite to tell him off for something he usually tells me off for. I announce myself by putting his smoking jacket over his shoulders. Father pulls the jacket around himself with a shiver and I smile. You're welcome.

"You should be in bed, Erika." Father frowns in disapproval and I almost want to call him out on his hypocrisy.

"So should you," My tone is sharp with worry and frustration and Father takes a moment to look at me - I never speak to him like this. "Mama's really worried about you. So am I. We haven't seen Papa for weeks, and we - " Just like always, my anger turns to upset and I move away, trying not to cry.

"Erika." I turn back to my Father and I see that he has tears in his eyes, too. He's hurting and even though he's been trying to find a cure for years, he's never been able to find one which really helps him. "I am sorry, I - my work, it is. Well, let's not discuss the details." A pause. Neither of us know what to do, even when there is no one to see or hear us. "Come here." He pats his lap and I make a happy noise, which makes him smile. I love sitting on my Father's lap - it's been something I've done ever since I was a child and it always makes me feel so safe.

I go and I sit on my Father's lap (and have a quiet cry - he knows but he doesn't say anything about it because he doesn't want to embarrass me) and he continues to work, but as the hours drag on and we both get increasingly tired, Father knows that the time for working is over. On these nights when I manage to find my Father in his own mind and pull him back with just my presence (and my very existence is a reminder of what he holds most dear), I also spend the night in his bed.

"Thank you, Erika, for..." Father trails off, but I know what he's saying to me.

I snuggle into his bed, feel my Father kiss my forehead and whisper his love, and then I sleep.

The night is half the battle - getting Father to take a break tomorrow morning will be an even bigger battle, but by then Mama will be awake and we'll work together to save Father from himself.

It's not the first or the last time, but all of us in the family have our Own Moments which require special attentions and solutions, and we love each other even harder during those times.

The reunion with Papa after getting Father to take a break from his weeks of working always makes me cry, too.

Over the years, it's become almost a... tradition, of sorts, for Papa to greet me this way after a long separation.

I could be doing anything - reading in Father's study, writing in my bed, studying at my desk - and all of a sudden, out of nowhere -

"Erika."

Whispered so casually, so quietly, but my entire body freezes. I know that voice anywhere. I drop whatever I'm doing, I tear up, and I turn, slowly...

Papa's smirking at me, a cold and calculative look in his eyes, but I'm not afraid. I'm not even nervous. Anyone else would make me step back with this look, but not Papa. No.

"Oh, my - Papa!" I step forward into his embrace and I melt into the parent I've been missing most of all. I cry, of course I do, and Papa says nothing about it (he and Father aren't so different at all, once you get to know them, though I'd never tell them that. Or Mama. It's a thought I keep entirely to myself.) because he doesn't see why he should need to; he only holds me tighter.

I can almost hear his fond eye roll and it makes me smile.

"It's difficult to understand someone who is entirely incapable of asking for what he most wants, wouldn't you agree? You're the only one he listens to," our daughter.

There is pride in Papa's voice but just like always, I can hear what he doesn't say, just as he hears what I don't say. It's just how it is between us; Papa and I have a level of understanding between us which we don't have with anyone else.

That night, Papa sleeps in my bed with me. I'm never ready to say goodbye to him, or goodnight, either. The following conversation is a nightly ritual because of this:

"Just five more minutes, Papa?"

"I'll be here tomorrow night. you know that. Sleep, child."

"But - "

"Erika."

A warning. No one else receives warnings from the Edward Hyde and lives to tell the tale. So I listen.

"Fine." I know he will be with me tomorrow night. "Stay with me 'til I fall asleep?"

Papa sighs, rolls his eyes, and pointedly lays down, watching me the whole time. I couldn't hide my smile if I tried, so I don't even bother to - Papa taught me to show my emotions and to not hide them.

"Goodnight, Erika."

"'Night, Papa. Love you."

A kiss on the top of my head, and all else fades to black.

My parents and I are very physically affectionate with one another and it's... unusual, especially if you consider the fact that it's in the Victorian Era, but the members of the household find it touching. They get hugs and affection, too! Even if they don't necessarily know how to react to it, they still do get their hugs in the morning and late at night just before they all go to bed (which is between 10 and 11, whereas I go to bed anywhere from midnight to 3 AM).

If I have a nightmare or a bad dream, I am at total liberty to climb into any bed in the house, but of course I make a beeline typically for Mama's bed. She knows nightmares well and she'll simply hold me until I feel safe, and then she'll hold me some more because I get clingy and I don't like letting go. There's been times I've cried because she let me go before I was ready for the cuddle to be over (though those times were when I was much younger) so now she just lets me decide for myself when I've had enough.

With the way I sleep with my hair in two braids, I always get a mass of tangles at the back of my head. Always. I hate it and it always makes me hesitant to brush my hair, which is now midway down my back (so I can’t not brush my hair every day), because I know it’s gonna hurt me. I’ll brush the front parts of my hair and I’ll try to brush the knots out, but it hurts so I stop and I don’t want to brush my hair. 

A part of me is always tempted to just leave it, but at the same time I know from previous experience that hair knots can and will get worse, so during these times I’ll take my brush to Mama. She’s always so gentle, not just with me, but also just in her nature. 

She is such a tender-hearted person and I admire her so deeply for that. She’s incredibly busy so typically I’ll leave brushing my hair until the evening, when she has more time to help me. I don’t always ask her for help with my hair, so when I do, she knows immediately that it’s because I really can’t do it myself.

“Mama, there’s a - I have a knot. Can you help me?”

A small smile and she goes to get her wooden comb. It’s gentler on knots than my own hairbrush, which pulls more than it needs to, and we both know it. Mama is so gentle that it barely hurts me, and within minutes she’s done what I’ve delayed all day.

“How do you want it tonight, Erika? One braid or two?”

I fondly roll my eyes - like she needs to ask. My smile is in my voice as I ask for two, and Mama and I get to spend some time with one another quietly enjoying each other’s company.

Sometimes I return the favour by helping her brush out her hair, but she’s incredibly self-sufficient and she largely prefers to do it herself. Which is fine... I’ll find other ways to help her!😊

“Thank you, Mama.” My words are doubled up with a tight hug, and then I’m ushered off to bed because it’s late and she’s exhausted.

I technically have three parents and each one fulfills a different need for me, so all together, they meet all of my needs and I try, I try to be a daughter that they can be proud of, that they can respect and that they can love unconditionally. I try so hard every day to live in a way to honour their places in my life.

There's nothing I wouldn't do for my parents. I would die for my parents, to give them a happy ending, to give them the time to be together, but in many ways... I am that happy ending, even if things aren't perfect. It's a fight sometimes to keep secrets exactly that, but we make it work. We have to.

I tell them each and every day that I love them, I hug them and cuddle them and help them out where I can, because they deserve the world.

They are my parents and I am very grateful to and for them. They have made me who I am today and they'll be with me forever, no matter where I go or what I do or who I become. I just hope that they'll continue to walk with me for the rest of my life, because I wouldn't be alive without them... in more ways than one.

[nikkoliferous]

"Loki brought it all on himself"

Ok, we need to talk about this frequent claim that Loki deserves all the bad things that have ever happened to him.

Firstly, let's just get this out of the way. The amount of gaslight in the assertion that Loki “broke his family's trust” is unbelievable. As in, I literally cannot believe there are people who genuinely think this. They turn canon completely on its head. Loki's family betrayed his trust—by kidnapping him as an infant, lying to him for his entire life, raising him to despise the Jötnar while knowing that he was actually one of them, and chronically mistreating him—long before he took on any villainous behaviour. Loki’s story is very much one of what can happen when you push even a good person too damn far.

The worst thing Loki can be accused of having done prior to the complete mental collapse he suffers upon learning his life has been a lie, is letting a handful of Frost Giants into Asgard to crash Thor's coronation. He does this partly—in his own words, and he has no reason to lie about this to Laufey of all people—to protect the kingdom from Thor's foolishness and immaturity. And he is not alone in his belief that Thor is not ready to be ruler of Asgard. Odin himself, in a scene that did not make it into the film, expresses doubt about this, and Frigga, interestingly enough, reassures him by reminding him that Loki will be by Thor's side to counsel him and, for lack of better phrasing, keep him from doing too much damage.

So I think we can dismiss that action as a "betrayal" of his family's trust—and even if one does want to consider this a betrayal, it certainly isn't one on a scale that merits spending thousands of years enduring psychological torture (which is what solitary confinement is).

Another assertion frequently made is that Loki manipulates Thor into going to Jötunheim to confront Laufey. Loki most definitely manipulates Thor—but at no point does he suggest doing that. Thor comes up with that harebrained scheme all on his own. The most Loki does is attempt to manipulate the rift between Thor and Odin by playing into Thor's sense of righteous anger and his resentment at being shut down. Not only does Loki not suggest at any point that they should confront Laufey, but he actively takes steps to prevent them from reaching Jötunheim. He tries to talk Thor out of going; he orders a guard to inform Odin of their plans, expecting they'll be intercepted in time; he takes the initiative to speak for them to Heimdall, very likely because he knows Heimdall dislikes/distrusts him. And after all of that fails, he attempts to talk Thor down from starting a war once they're standing in Laufey's court. Interestingly enough, I never see anyone claim that Thor betrays his family's trust by reigniting a war with the Frost Giants, endangering the lives of his family, his friends, and his would-be subjects. It's almost like all the accusations of betrayal that people level at Loki aren't based on any sort of objectivity or moral high ground at all and are merely rationalizations by people working backwards from the conclusion that Loki is “evil”, simply because the narrative has framed him as a villain.

We also need to reckon with the fact that Loki did not "steal" the throne. Thor was stripped of his power and banished to Earth (which was not Loki's doing) when Odin fell into the Odinsleep (also not Loki’s doing). After Thor, Loki is next in line for the throne. That's literally just how the royal line of succession works. With both Odin and Thor incapacitated in one way or another, the responsibility of ruling falls legitimately to Loki. Frigga herself names him regent-king. Loki neither banishes Thor from Asgard nor forces Odin to go napnap, nor indeed does he even attempt to manipulate Frigga to pass the role of regent onto him—if anything, he’s shocked when she does so; therefore, it is completely unreasonable to accuse him of having "usurped" anything.

It’s equally unreasonable to claim that Loki “arranged for” Thor’s banishment, yet I see people say the same time and time again. Let us just recall that 1) Loki attempts to intervene when the fight between Thor and Odin begins to escalate

and 2) This is Loki’s face upon Odin’s inexplicably extreme punishment.

Look, I know Loki is known as being a liar, but if you think his shock here isn’t genuine, I have some oceanfront property in Arizona to sell you.

Now, I could stop right here because the claim is that Loki betrayed his family’s trust first and thus brought everything on himself. And as I’ve clearly demonstrated, any villainous actions Loki takes, be they in the first Thor film or thereafter, come after learning the truth (aka having his trust broken by his family). But because I know how much people love to move the goalpost when it comes to Loki, let’s just go on to address why none of his actions are truly villainous in the classic sense of the word.

Every wrongful action Loki takes in this film, outside of the aforementioned interference with Thor’s coronation (which we’ve already established may have been ill-conceived but certainly was not a “betrayal”) is a reaction to various betrayals against him or a result of paranoia fueled by a complete emotional collapse.

“Trying to kill” Heimdall is not a betrayal because Loki is defending himself from Heimdall who is attempting to commit regicide. (Also, if Loki had wanted Heimdall dead, he would be. The fact that he’s not, is a demonstration of Loki’s benevolence, not his ruthlessness).

Lying to Thor about Odin being dead is cruel, but it’s not borne of a desire to hurt Thor. Both the lie and, later, sending the Destroyer are borne of desperation, because as Tom himself has stated, Loki believed Thor would kill him if he made it back to Asgard and learned the truth. This is a moment that, if there were any justice in the MCU, ought to have haunted Thor for the rest of his life:

That’s one Jötun who definitely fears him.

This goes far beyond the claim that he betrayed his family, but I’ll address it anyway: tricking the Frost Giants by inviting them into the palace under false pretenses is not a betrayal because there is no established relationship of trust between Loki and the Jötnar. You can’t betray a trust that doesn’t exist.

And attempted genocide is definitely not a betrayal of his family’s trust because genocide is literally what this family does. Genocide is their entire legacy. Despite claims to the contrary, this was an established fact well before Ragnarok. (”So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me?” “I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent god, just like you.” “[What of the lives you took on Earth?] A mere handful compared to the number Odin has taken himself”). If anything, trying to destroy Jötunheim was an attempt to live up to the family name. It was misguided and wrong, but it was in no way out of line with what Loki and Thor were raised to do. Asgard is a warrior culture; killing their enemies is not perceived as immoral, but honourable. In fact, one of the reasons Loki’s actions were likely seen as dishonourable is because he used the power of the Bifröst rather than engaging the Jötnar in direct warfare. (Though it is possible, given the state of Svartalfheim, that this was also done in the past to wipe out the Dark Elves). But what was it that Odin said when he was yelling at Thor in the Observatory prior to banishing him?

Odin: “Do you realise what you’ve done? What you’ve started?”

Thor: “I was protecting my home!”

Odin: “You cannot even protect your friends! How can you hope to protect a kingdom?”

At no point does Odin state that killing the Jötnar is wrong. But he does criticize Thor for putting his friends in danger by going to confront Laufey. (This is still not the catalyst for Thor’s banishment. That comes later, when Thor calls Odin “an old man and a fool”). Loki, however, conveniently knows a way to destroy the Jötnar without risking any Asgardian lives. And since a condemnation of killing their enemies is not a part of Odin’s diatribe, he has no reason to believe that Odin disapproved of that part of Thor’s misbehaviour. So now he can say, “Look, Father. I did what Thor couldn’t!”

Thor: “Why have you done this?”

Loki: “To prove to Father that I am a worthy son. When he awakens, I will have saved his life. I will have destroyed that race of monsters and I will be true heir to the throne.”

Only, as we all know, it's in vain.

There’s only one moment in the entirety of the first Thor film that I would class as a genuine betrayal of his family’s trust, and that is that he puts both Frigga and Odin in harm’s way when he invites Laufey into Asgard under the false pretense of allowing him to slay Odin in his sleep. This was very short-sighted of him; what if he’d been too late and his scheme had gotten Frigga killed before he’d arrived to intervene? Betraying his family was not his intent here, but in his highly emotional state of mind, he did endanger them needlessly— much like Thor needlessly endangered his friends and his brother by going to Jötunheim and starting this whole mess to begin with. (However, I never see fans criticise Thor for this. And they should. My point here is not that Loki should not be criticised for endangering his family, but that there needs to be consistency. If you’re going to call out Loki for endangering his loved ones, you need to call out Thor as well. If you’re going to call out Loki for mass slaughter, you need to call out Thor as well).

In short, I think my favourite thing about the vast majority of Loki antis is their blatant disdain and lack of empathy for the mentally ill and the abused. And by ‘favourite thing’, I of course mean that it disgusts me.

(Tagging @magicmastered​ and @just-another-human-2019​ because you both expressed interest in the post 😘)

[kiragecko]

So I’ve been thinking about disabled minimum wage and disability rights for YEARS now, trying to figure out what I think. And I’m still not sure about anything. I know they need to change, and that they’re too restricting, but I doubt that complete repeal is a good idea, and the suggestions I hear on this site seem really simplistic.

(Warning: I’m not a mentally or physically disabled person, and I’m talking both about working through my own ableism and about my perspective on my mentally disabled brother. There could be some offensive stuff in here I’m not aware of. Also, Canada isn’t the rest of the world, so my perspective is limited in that way, as well.)

It was probably the early 2010s when I first read a post about how everyone should make a living wage, and allowing disabled people to earn less than minimum wage was wrong and evil. I learned that people getting disability benefits could lose them if they ever saved more than $2000, even for a moment. And that laws ‘protecting’ disabled people often denied them decision making ability and left them more vulnerable to abuse.

This was shortly after my Very Little Brother, who has Down’s Syndrome and is probably autistic, had started working in an sheltered workshop. He's making something like $8 a day, helping recycle certain items.

He has a full time helper, since he doesn’t really care about work, or understand why it’s important. But he watches movies and listens to music while he works, hangs out with other mentally disabled adults, and seems to benefit from having SOMETHING to do during the day. Doesn’t mind going there, or seem particularly agitated after work. He likes buying chocolate bars every once in a while. When he didn’t go to work because of Covid, I think he slept a lot, became listless and depressed. (I’m not sure, because I couldn’t see him for A YEAR due to quarantine regulations, but that’s what I remember my mama saying.)

I DON’T KNOW what would be best for my brother. Sheltered workshops seem a bit like basketweaving in the Victorian age - make-work given to disabled and mentally ill people to ‘allow them to be contributing members of society.’ And people don’t need to ‘contribute’ to be a valuable part of the community! But I’ve also never been able to shake the message of ‘The Man Who Loved Clowns,’ by June Rae Wood - that there is pride and personal value in doing work. That people often feel more healthy and happy when they have something to do.

And whether it’s right or wrong for my parents to decide that my brother should work, what’s a fair wage for his labour? Someone is being paid quite a bit more than minimum wage to support him, what’s he’s making isn’t actually worth that much, he is doing the minimum asked of him, AND he doesn’t have any expenses or understand what money it worth. But he’s incredibly precious to me, brings joy to those around him, and is a person with intrinsic value doing what he is capable of doing. Should he get minimum wage? Should his wage be adjusted to account for the support he’s getting? Should the disability benefits he’s getting, as well as his room and board with the lady he lives with, be enough payment from the government - they’re basically a Universal Basic Income?

How do we respect my brother as the valuable person he is when all the markers that society values - work ethic, intelligence, wise decision making - are meaningless to him?

And once a decision is made for someone who doesn’t understand or care about any of this, how is that adapted that for someone who does? Someone who WANTS to provide value, and is getting supports that limit the capitalistic value of their work? O someone who can work for full wages, but only sometimes, and would like to be supported when they can’t work, but also reap the benefits of work when it’s reasonable for them to do so? People who can’t do any type of regular work, but would like to earn supplemental income from hobbies?

And how do we make it possible for people to manage their money wisely, while protecting those who can’t? Laws about disabled people’s savings are designed to protect them from people like Britney Spears’ dad - who might use their savings account to store money for tax breaks and other benefits for the non-disabled person, or ‘save’ all the disabled person’s money rather than allowing them to use it. (I acknowledge that they frequently don’t work, and might even make things worse. But they were created for a non-evil reason. (Also, I don’t know anything about conservatorships, only that they seem to have a LOT of room for abuse.)) Not being able to save up for a new wheelchair or dreamed of trip is messed up. Having to rely on family or friends whenever you have a larger expense is an incredibly vulnerable position! These are definitely bad laws, but is there any way to accomplish what they were TRYING to do?

Disabled people don’t all benefit from the same things. Some people DO need all of their needs met, and most of their decisions made for them. My brother enjoys being able to get himself fruit from the fridge when he’s hungry, and being able to choose from multiple clothing options. He chooses what movies he wants to watch, and when he’s done interacting with us and wants to have alone time. That’s what agency is for him.

I think the laws designed to protect him are imprisoning other disabled people. Laws designed to make sheltered workshops feasible make it legal to pay pennies per hour. Laws designed to ensure people don’t steal his money make it impossible for other people to be financially independent. Laws that make sure he isn’t signing things that he doesn’t understand mean that other people aren’t allowed to sign things that they do.

I need to read more articles by physically and mentally disabled people talking about this. Ones that don’t go into the abuse cases and end up triggering me.

[whenwegounnoticed]

My Turn To Talk About VioletVineyard, MVCreates, and the Glaring Problems of Power Imbalances.

Introduction

I have been on the fence about talking about my experiences, on one hand, because one of her mods and I are or maybe were (?) friends, and I valued their friendship but in recent light, I don’t know and because I want my main to be a safe place for other writeblrs and because I am afraid.

I was in VioletVineyard at the beginning of it -- and being in it did not feel good for reasons I could never put my finger on.

Let's talk about me and who I am first without giving myself away:

I have a disorder that makes expressing myself difficult, this is due to childhood trauma and a form of self preservation. My wording will be clunky because only recently, with the help of amazing friends, I'm learning the right verbage.

Now. Some of you will know who I am. Hello. Please keep me anonymous. Some of you might have a guess. Hello. Surprised? Maybe you're wrong. I don't know, I'm not in your head just as you're not in mine.

I have screenshots for some stuff and none for others. These are all personal experiences.

I will not be sharing the screenshots of those who were victims to respect their privacy.

Please bear with me. I know this will be long and rambly, but it’s how I make sense of my thoughts and brain.

VioletVineyard: Questionable Reality

I joined VV at the start of it, although it was already pretty big. I was excited! I admired many writeblrs who were in there and wanted to be friends with many of them. They were all so welcoming. And I felt, for a hot minute, like I belonged.

It was sprint of my freshman semester as a journalism major, and Mina reached out to me in the general chat, saying that if I needed help or wanted an In at some journalism company, to let her know because she knows people.

Great! Cool. A little odd but that was nice of her -- and.

That's how it starts.

A side: my friend has a theory that if people only present how perfect and amazingly nice they are, they likely are rotting on the inside. Nobody is ever perfect and always super nice, do not trust them. I do not subscribe to this but it is a thought in my mind now.

It took a week of me being there for the not right feeling set in.

First:

There was drama.

She would start it. She'd vague in the vent about someone and then outright state who she was talking about. And it would be about someone whose opinions she disagreed with. People would go and send anons or they'd bitch about whoever was the victim in the vent channel.

I don't remember if I participated but if I did, I am truly and genuinely sorry.

I think I got stressed two weeks in. I was already ill from invisible physical problems. The server felt horribly unmoderated.

I remember saying something because Mina was doing it again and being told,

"Then support in here."

Mostly innocent right? You support your friends, right?

It wouldn't have been a problem if:

The victim did something wrong.

Mina and this person weren't in their goddamn 30s or near that. They have a child, by the way.

The person was at least under 20.

From my scattered memory, the issue was OP either slightly vagued abt Mina or she just disgreed with OP.

Lots of red flags, right?

"But OP why did you stay?"

Emotional masochism? Fear? Because she, either knowingly or unknowingly cultivated this sort of atmosphere? I cannot speak for anyone else, but that's the reasoning for me.

There was, also, in the beginning, a hope that maybe things would change. Varying personalities, you know? And a desperate need for validation.

So, so wrong.

MVCreates & OP

So, get to the point OP. What happened to you?

A vague threat.

Mina....had Opinions. And opinions are just that, opinions but for her, they were fact. After all, she has her own reality and own story that helped form hers but some of hers were odd. Maybe not to most people who aren’t paying attention or didn’t notice the red flags ( “through rose colored glasses, all red flags just look like flags”) but they were definitely something.

She, for awhile, talked an awful lot about writeblr positivity. I could never really make sense of it -- she either supported it or was against it, from what I remember. (keep in mind, this was a little over a year ago and visually, I can see the gaudy green - red - yellow colors for pronoun preferences).

And I made a vague post about it and her. A few times. I was in the wrong for vaguing about her instead of just saying something up front.

Her response was, and I will paraphrase,

“Do you ever screenshot people vaguing about you just in case they enter a political career?”

I wish I had taken a screenshot. I’m sorry now that I did not. Maybe someone saw that, maybe they brushed it off. I don’t know.

From then on, I kept quiet about my thoughts and opinions because I did have plans to go into a political career -- but jokes on her, I plan on being a human rights officer for the United Nations lmao

Another incident (we’re almost done, I promise):

I was -- venting about gender dysphoria. I was Peak Suicidal at this point in time, just knowing what I was born with brought me to tears frequently. Mina had jumped into in the conversation and started talking about something vaguely related. She started talking about trans BIPOC experiences, which is great! Their experiences are things that need to be talked about because they are often thrown to the side for trans white people’s experiences and that is not okay.

I forget the middle part, it’s been over a year. It went from BIPOC experiences to something else, a conversation about gender? I don’t know. Maybe there’s someone out there who remembers. I doubt it though.

I remember saying, “I wish I would have been born with testicles and everything else because [I’m in hell?]” and she answered with,

“That would [mean / cause / ???? ] privilege.”

This person who has claimed she is non binary, claimed to be a trans ally and part of the trans community, said that to someone in the height of dysphoria and was suicidal.

You do not say that to someone who is experiencing gender dysphoria. To say that is transphobia. And yes, trans & non binary people can be transphobic. You are not exempt.

Violet Vineyard & Reprehensible Behaviors

Before I start this section, and I promise this is almost done, I just want to thank:

@radley-writes​, @gingerly-writing​, @lilquill​, @sapiencenotes​  @rrrawrf-writes​ & many more who have come forward about their experiences, whether publicly and in private. It’s admirable and brave of you to do something I could not. @nuwuhorizons​ & @time-to-write-and-suffer​ have amazing documentation as well.

There isn’t much to say that hasn’t already been said and documented, but I can corroborate the bullying Mina and the mods engaged in -- the stuff Radley spoke about I did not know about -- and that makes me ill. I’m glad they owned up to what they did, and for that, thank you Radley. It shows you are a much bigger and better person.

I will not lie, however -- I was hurt and felt a bit ill when you talked about what the mods did. And it made me question and second guess a friendship I have (had?) with another mod. But I think that helped put some pieces of the puzzle together.

 An incident that stands out to me (and honestly bothers me, so a few people have heard about this often and I’m sorry), very clearly and I have screenshots for but will not share to protect their privacy, was when they dogpiled someone who had been asking about writing a Jewish character. While they were falling into somewhat harmful stereotypes, VV was handling it.

Not well.

The person was a minor, for one -- teenagers make mistakes, they make them more if they’re not exposed to varying cultures and beliefs. And the person who was on the receiving end of this dogpile looked to be coming more and more unstable and all I could do is just. Grab screenshots of what I could.

And if you’re reading this, you know who you are, I am so sorry I didn’t say anything. That wasn’t right, the entire situation wasn’t okay. You shouldn’t have gone through that. I hope you find healing and peace.

A quick disclaimer: Violet Vineyard, as far as I know, didn’t have a lot of Jewish members. I know a mod was converting (but hadn’t yet) and I think I saw one or two people with the Star of David in their name or icon. That said, my paternal grandmother was Jewish and had been one of the few survivors of her family from the Holocaust. I cannot speak for the entire Jewish population, and I do not consider myself Jewish in religion but trust me when I say this:

YHWH would be disappointed in their (VV’s) behavior -- and if the moderator who is working on converting is genuine about converting, then I need them to think long and hard  about what is happening. This isn’t what Judaism teaches. And if you’re reading this, ask yourself, would G-d condone the actions of your fellow ex mods?

Final Words

Oof, this was long, wasn’t it? Must have been hard to sit through because I ramble! So. What’s left for me to say?

Not a whole lot but still, a lot but the stuff I want to say are not my lived experiences. It is not my place to speak on behalf of anyone else involved in all of this. And that is okay.

But to the people who were involved with the recent drama and dogpiled a trans teenager and to those who helped bully many people in this community on behalf of the oh so great Mina,

my question is  why?

What was a thirty year old woman, WHO HAS A CHILD, bullying a nineteen year old? Why was an almost thirty year old person with a toddler and one on the way involved in this as well?

Most or a decent handful of you were adults, some with children, some expecting. 

And Mina,

You used your age and position to manipulate people and for that, I find you the most reprehensible. Castor did not deserve what happened, neither did the victim mentioned above. Nobody did. 

I hope, in the end, you finally find happiness without having to lie about your talent and without having to manipulate people.

Thank you for listening and sticking around if you made it this far and didn’t bounce in the beginning.

I’ve said my part. If anyone wants to engage in constructive discussion or share their experiences, feel free to do so.

[stormwarnings]

fic writer interview

i was tagged by @lemurious thank you :D

name: im stormwarnings on tumblr/ao3

fandoms: all for the game, tolkien (silm and lotr), and got dragged back into supernatural kicking and screaming

where you post: mostly ao3, but i put stuff thats less polished on tumblr too

most popular one-shot: doubt thou the stars be fire, my aftg fall exchange fic! its not my best, but i guess people like it which makes me happy

most popular multi-chap: black, the night that ends at last which was actually the first fic i ever wrote. i think its alright - i think my writing has definitely improved a lot since i started it in april. im glad people like it though, and its a wip but itll get finished someday :)

favorite story youve written so far: either my silm ‘fix-it’ bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh or my legolas/gimli orpheus and eurydice retelling we raise our cups

fic you were nervous to post: probably black, the night that ends at last because it deals with things pretty close to my heart, and also - first fic ever lmao

how do you choose your titles: music? random phrases that float into my head? a line of poetry thats just chilling? absolutely no clue its random

do you outline: lmao sometimes not frequently tho, id definitely benefit from doing so and maybe id have less wips but then again im bad at finishing stuff so probably not

complete: im not gonna leave any of my stories incomplete - ill finish them eventually. rn 19/23 fics on my ao3 are finished

in progress: ahaha ive got 4 fics according to ao3 that are incomplete - black (aftg longfic), see your face wasn’t quite as i remember (lotr era eldritchyness and sibling vibes), bone of my bone (silm fix it), and people like us (silm modern au with crime families). once i finish bone of my bone, i intend to add more stories to the 'verse (like the dawn) including ones centered around characters, and a chapter fic centered around the line of elu thingol and doriath. plus, ive still got a few more characters to go in my eldritch peredhil series, whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it

coming soon/not started yet: my aftg rbb fic, which im super excited tho slightly stymied by! plus my tss fic, which is almost done, but after that i intend to update some of my wips. im also writing a genderbent spn au bc im gay and love girls and terrifying angels

prompts: sure go wild i enjoy writing short things for other people when i can muster the productivity

upcoming work youre most excited about: the dang supernatural fic how did i get here i swore id never go back - but also seriously hyped to write more of my silm fix it whenever i manage to get around to it

i tag: uhh i dont actually know who hasnt been tagged? @thatfeanorian, @withfantasticgarlands, @xirinofarvada, and anyone else who wants to

[omoi-no-hoka]

Rural Life and Mental Health in Japan as a Gaijin

Heads up: This is a very long, personal post about mental health and the stresses of living in rural Japan as a foreigner. If it’s not what you’re looking for in this blog, please feel free not to read it. If you can’t tell by the gif above, this isn’t going to be a very positive post because I’m not in a very positive mood.

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

It’s been just shy of five and a half years since I moved to Hokkaido, the northernmost island/prefecture in Japan. In many ways, it’s similar to the American Midwest, which is the region I’m originally from. It’s big on agriculture, it’s got lots of nature and rural areas, winters are long and nasty, and the people have a warmth that make up for the cold snow and ice outside. Heck, even a lot of the flora and fauna are the same.

I think of my current city as my “Japanese hometown” because it was where I stayed during my first trip to Japan and it’s where my hostparents from that time are. I love it here like I love my country bumpkin village of 2,800 back in the states.

But after a little over two years of living and working in this city, I think I need out. I am...tired of it in many ways.

特別扱い Tokubetsu Atsukai, “Special Treatment”

Prior to living in this city, I lived in Sapporo, which has a population of 2 million. There, no one batted an eye at a foreigner walking the streets. A lot of them were surprised that i could use Japanese, but a good few people were used to gaijin that could use nihongo and read kanji.

But in my current city, I have experienced all of the following things, some of which on a daily basis.

DISCLAIMER: I have also had a LOT of very positive experiences with the people of this city. Most of my experiences have been positive or neutral, but a good 40% have been as described below.

Everywhere I go, I am openly stared at. Gawked at, at times. (I am your standard-looking, standard-dressed, slightly overweight white girl. No visible tattoos, piercings, vibrant hair color, or otherwise attention-grabbing aspects about me other than the fact that i am clearly not Japanese.)

I am often spoken to like I am mentally disabled, or if I am with a Japanese person, they will refuse to speak to me and instead speak to my Japanese companion.

I have entered restaurants on my own and had waitstaff make a big “X” with their arms and say “No English” immediately upon seeing my non-Japanese face.

I have had waiting taxi drivers drive off instead of allow a troublesome foreigner into their car.

I have sat down alone at a bar and had the Japanese people beside me openly gossip about me with the assumption that I could not understand them.

When searching for apartments when I moved to this city, I was denied 75% of my picks because they have a “no gaijin” rule. Despite the fact that I can speak and read, that I have a good job and valid visa, and that I have already lived here 3 years without a single late rent payment or complaint against me.

I have built up casual relationships with employees at grocery stores, etc. I frequent, and they have asked me for my contact info because, in their own words, “I’ve always wanted a gaijin for a friend!” In Japan, every girl wants a token gaijin friend instead of a token gay friend.

I have gone on dates with Japanese men who clearly just wanted a white girl to hang on their arm like a piece of swag and insist on taking me to a pasta place because “You must prefer western food to Japanese food” or insisting that I dye my hair blonder to look more foreign.

I am just...so very tired of this 特別扱い (special treatment).

I don’t want to call it 差別 (prejudice) because, the majority of the time, Japanese people think they are doing me a kindness by speaking slowly and simply, or by telling me as soon as possible that they cannot help me in English, etc. While a couple of the above experiences are straight up racism (I’m looking at you, asshole taxi drivers and landlords), most of them are a misguided form of “omotenashi,” a.k.a. Japanese hospitality.

So I try very hard not to let it get to me, because I know that they don’t wish ill upon me. But I’ve worked so goddamn hard to learn this language and speak it well, and it is so frustrating for the people around me to assume that I can’t do what has been my freaking life goal. Or having people assume I can’t understand slightly difficult words and dumb down their language (Even colleagues I’ve worked with for two years now!). In the middle of a conversation they’ll say things like, “It’s hard to deal with that level of animosity--oh wait, omoi-no-hoka-san, sorry, ‘animosity’ means ‘dislike.’”

They mean it in a helpful way, but it just comes across as very condescending and I end up thinking, Oh, so they think my Japanese proficiency is so low i can’t understand that word. Which sends me into doubt over whether my language skills are actually that deficient, or whether I am speaking in a way that makes myself look at bad at Japanese.

The Effects of 特別扱い (Special Treatment)

It’s been gradual, but over the past two years, I have found myself withdrawing from the outside world. I got bad at replying to friend’s messages. I started making excuses to avoid meeting up and hanging out. I would buy all the groceries i needed to last me through the weekend on Friday after work and not emerge until Monday morning to go back to work. Even though I really love the outdoors and used to spend entire days just riding my bike along the river trails here.

...But in the past few months I’ve become unable to answer even close friends’ phone calls and messages. And I’ve even had a hard time phoning my parents, which is crazy because ever since I left home for uni I’ve called my mom on a daily basis. When I think about stepping outside of my apartment, no matter the reason or destination, I am gripped by a dread so strong I nearly throw up. I have gone a couple weekends without food because it would require me leaving my apartment to buy some, or paying for very expensive delivery which also means interacting with whoever is bringing me that food.

I’ve had a stressful summer and fall at work, and that undoubtedly has contributed to my current anxiety overload. But things have settled down at work for the past month now, and not only have I been given an award that only 2% of employees get globally, recently I have been in talks to take on what is very nearly a dream position for me within the company that is a BIG step up career-wise. I have great bosses who recognize my efforts, who listen to what I have to say, and do what they can to help when I tell them I’m in over my head.

But I have had several days where I have woken up, gotten ready for work, and just frozen at my apartment door, too sick at the thought of going outside. And yet, I can’t stand the thought of calling in sick because I feel chronic, self-imposed guilt when I take a day off, no matter the reason. So I call in to work and tell them I have a stomachache and will be in once it’s gone, (which isn’t an absolute lie), and then drag myself into work within a couple hours.

And once I enter the office, do the obligatory bow and apology for being late and causing inconveniences, the dread and anxiety vanish and I am fine until it is time for me to go outside to return home.

This makes me think that work is not a main stressor right now. It doesn’t matter if I’m going to the convenience store or the grocery store or work or anywhere. I think the constant being stared at everywhere I go has gradually accumulated to become a nasty form of social anxiety. I used to have panic attacks in middle school and high school due to home life, but since removing myself from that environment they’ve gone away. I’ve always been a socially-reserved person who shies away from the spotlight, and despite telling myself a thousand times, “Let them look at you--you’re just being you and they’re being them and that’s OKAY,” I just can’t brush it off. I have very, very seriously considered dyeing my hair from its natural brown to black in an effort to blend in, if only slightly. Which is laughable, but that’s just how much it bothers me to stand out.

But the event that really sounded the alarm for me was when my best friend of 10 years, a Japanese girl whom I met by chance my freshman year of uni, who was my roommate for 4 years of uni, who let me sleep on her living room floor here in Japan for 3 months until my work visa came through, who has been with me through thick and thin, sent me a message asking when she could drop off a souvenir for me and

I couldn’t bring myself to reply to her text.

That was when I very clearly knew that I was too deep in this funk to get myself out on my own, and I had to figure out how to get help.

Frankly, despite having struggled with panic attacks and anxiety in the past, I have never sought professional help. Until now, I never felt that my symptoms were so bad that they warranted medication. But the fact that i can’t contact my mother or my best friend, that I would rather not eat anything for two days instead of go outside, means that snorting essential oils and rubbing rose quartz against my temples or whatever isn’t going to be enough.

Mental Health Views in Japan

It’s not exactly a secret that the approach to mental health in Japan is “sweep it under the rug.” You do not talk about it. You may go to a doctor and receive medication, but you do not get counseling, because that involves talking about it. You do not tell your friends. You do not tell your family. You DEFINITELY do not tell your coworkers.

I saw my boss, T, fall into a very similar spiral to my own this summer. Stomach aches in the morning, coming in late, making excuses to get out of outings outside of work, not replying to messages, not sleeping well. And then one day he just vanished. Didn’t show up one Monday.

T wouldn’t respond to our messages so we had to contact his mother to get a hold of him. And once she had confirmed that she had spoken to him and scolded him for being “selfish” by skipping work, my coworkers were satisfied because, in their words, “Now that we know he’s still alive, we don’t have to worry.”

Honestly, that was one of the most fucked up reactions to any situation I have ever seen. I was shocked, because these coworkers truly cared for him, but their mutual reaction to this was to just...let him languish.

T announced to a select number of supervisors/colleagues that he had been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and would be stepping down from his position. He said that he had been diagnosed years ago, but had not disclosed it because he knew that he would never be promoted if anyone knew.

And that’s one of the big reasons that no one wants to talk about their mental illness here. In Japan, having a mental illness is a shameful thing. It shows that you’re weak, that you can’t keep up with everyone else, that you are flawed in a way that will adversely affect those around you at one point or another.

But my company really is a great company and the people in charge are progressive. T has a lot of great skills and experience, and they didn’t want to let him go. So they told him that they would find someone to fill his current role, but once he had rested and gotten better, they wanted him to come back and do a position that he used to do, one that he really shined in and enjoyed. And that is where he’s at now, and he’s doing much better for it.

So, having seen all of this unfold mere months ago, I grappled with how much I should tell my employers. The talk of this new and big position in Tokyo was underway, yet I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle it unless I got better.

So I bit the bullet, and on the night that I couldn’t respond to my best friend’s text, I sent my boss a message, explaining my symptoms, how long they’d been going on, what I thought the causes were, and that I wanted to take the morning off to see a doctor about it sometime that week.

And I was really shocked by his reply.

This boss is the guy that filled T’s position, and i didn’t know him that well yet. As it turns out, he used to be a counselor before he joined this company. He told me that I could go to the doctor whenever I wanted, but that he also wanted to talk in person about this the next day.

The next day he called me into the conference room with one other manager, a guy I really trust and like. When T vanished, shit really hit the fan at the office and it was basically this manager and me keeping us afloat for the first couple weeks, so we’ve got a lot of camaraderie going. They asked me to talk more about what was going on, why I was feeling all this anxiety, etc.

And it was during this conversation that I saw the division between the traditional Japanese views of mental health and modern views of mental health.

When I explained to them both why I wanted to see a doctor and try medication, their reactions were mixed. My boss, the former counselor, said that if I thought it was best, trying out medication for a few weeks was a good idea.

The manager looked doubtful and said, “But do you really think that going to a doctor and getting pills from him will fix everything? If you’re diagnosed, what will your colleagues think? I thought you wanted that promotion.”

In that moment i felt intense fear and regret, as well as hurt. T had said that he had withheld his diagnosis for this very reason. A part of me had wanted to think it was paranoia on his part, but now I realized that he had been right to keep it a secret. This manager, whom I knew very well and trusted deeply, clearly was of the opinion that a diagnosis/medication = evidence of weakness.

So I ended up lying and telling them, “I’ll go to the doctor just to get some sleeping pills.” (I’ve been waking up every hour on the hour for a couple months now.) Sleeping pills aren’t frowned upon in Japan and the manager was pleased with this decision.

And after that manager left, I told my boss the truth, that i would be getting anti-anxiety meds as well because I really thought it was necessary, and that I would appreciate him not disclosing it unless he was required to, which he agreed to.

Seeing a Psychiatrist in Japan

So now i had to find a psychiatrist and make an appointment. A Google search provided me horrors. Below is an excerpt of a Google review of a certain mental health clinic in my city, and the record of the exchange between the doctor and reviewer (patient). I’m not going to translate it all because it’s long, but these are some highlights of the doctor’s words directly to the patient.

“You can’t sleep? I can’t sleep either. What, do you want some pills for it?”

“You can’t expect me to believe what a patient says.”

(After he made the patient cry) “You are being so difficult. Could you stop crying?”

He gives her medication, has silent nurses send her out to the waiting room where she continues to cry, and the doctor comes to the waiting room and says, “Could you hurry up and pay and leave?”

Having read this, I was filled with absolute fear. Maybe I was better off trying to fix this on my own after all.

But I kept searching, and I also learned that my city hall has a 心の相談窓口 (Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi), “Mind Consultation.” You can call them to learn information about what sorts of mental health facilities/options are available in your area. A very kind lady there informed me that it takes about 2-3 months to get in to any psychiatrist in this city, most of them do not take new patients, and that counseling is almost non-existent. Unless I was a harm to myself or others, I would have to wait. However, there was one general hospital in the city that had one psychiatrist staffed. This hospital has no reservation system whatsoever (very common in Japan) and takes a set number of patients in the morning and evening. I could try my luck to get in and see her.

So that was what i did, and I was able to see her on the first morning I went! I think the Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi lady made it sound harder to get into so I wouldn’t feel let down if it didn’t work out the first time I went.

Having read the horror story above, I had a lot of trepidation stepping into the exam room with her and two nurse secretaries. I had expected it to be a very clinical, dry exchange of symptoms and a sufficient prescription with a token お大事に。

And, more than anything, I had feared that she would say something like, “Maybe you should just go home to your own country where you wouldn’t stand out.”

But she asked me a wide range of questions, with none of them focusing on the fact that I was a gaijin: what my symptoms were, how long they’d been going on, what I had going on in my life, what work was like, past history of anxiety, etc., and she and the nurses all truly listened to what i had to say. It was clear that she cared about the underlying causes and me as a person.

She told me that it sounded like I was experiencing a buildup of stress and anxiety and that she wanted me to try a low dose of anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills for a week and then come back for another discussion.

That was 3 weeks ago. I’ve since been in the process of working with her to find the right combination of medication. Fun fact: they prescribe you Rohypnol (roofies) for sleeping meds in Japan if they deem your insomnia is serious enough. So. That is interesting.

Where I Am Now

I am keeping my boss informed of my condition and he is still very supportive. He seems to have informed his bosses of my tribulations to some extent, because they have gone out of their way to check in on me and see how I’m doing, which is very kind of them. Of course, they also know that i went above and beyond the call of duty for several months in a row until recently, and they could simply be asking because of that. Either way, I am touched that they would think of me, as I am a lowly translator for a lesser project and they are quite a ways up on the corporate ladder.

I am still in talks about taking on a very exciting position in Tokyo HQ, despite one of those bosses likely being aware of my situation to some extent. I used to dread the thought of Tokyo because I am a country girl who needs to see green, but recently I’ve come to the tough decision that I need to leave my beloved Japanese hometown, just like i left my American one. I love them, but I do not belong in them. I have visited the Tokyo HQ quite a few times, and there are a ton of foreigners in the area so I don’t stand out at all. I think that as long as I can live reasonably close enough to a park, I can satisfy my needs for nature while lessening my social anxiety.

I am having good days and bad days where it is still hard for me to leave the house. But I am having more good days than bad now. And today I was finally able to send a text message back to my best friend. Which really doesn’t seem like a lot, but it is a lot to me. My friend is supportive and understanding, which means the world to me.

I’m getting back to being me. 💗

p.s.: The gif at the top of this is from the anime Mushishi, which I think illustrates various mental illnesses and their effects in a very metaphoric way.

[yonaih]

en route I - [ doc x lion ]

posted on ao3 as aIIegro (capital i’s in username)

word count: ~2.7k

a/n: here we go! this is the fic from that teaser i posted a week (?) ago. i said i’d write a few chapters before posting but. i want. instant validation. 

Things between Gustave and Olivier had always been tense since Operation Chimera, to say the least. It infuriated Gustave to no end every time he thought about the other haughty, arrogant French operator. Sure, they got their work done once both could temporarily get over their unrepressed hostility towards each other (albeit grudgingly), but even the moments of mutual teamwork didn’t suture the festering sore spot between the medic and Lion. Even the most antisocial operators in Rainbow knew the aspects that the two hated about each other. In some ways, it was rather shocking. Olivier was already known to be stubborn and had a knack for annoying everyone in a room, but his ability to dig a strong, seemingly out of place reaction from Gustave was extraordinary. Doc, a man who basically had “putting up with others’ problems” in his job description, was thought to be universally calm and collected, but Lion’s presence was clearly an exception to that notion.

Twitch found herself almost caught in the crosshairs when she brought Olivier to the infirmary after a recruit training session got out of control and left him with a bloodied calf. The trek down the hall was gruelling. Helping support the larger man, Emmanuelle sighed a little as she fumbled with the door handle, trying to push it with her foot.

“If you couldn’t get the door, knocking is an option,” Gustave called, helping Twitch inside, blatantly ignoring Olivier’s groans of protest.

“My bad, Gus,” she quipped, dragging the bristling Lion towards a cot and haphazardly dumping him there. “Next time, I’ll get a nitro.”

“Very funny. Not a claymore?”

Twitch shook off her vest, tucked it into the crook of her arm, and gave the Frenchman a pointed glare, stuck out her tongue, and motioned to Lion. Suddenly stone cold, Gustave asked what had happened.

“Well you see, recruits got a hold of Shuhrat’s cluster charges and didn’t fully understand what they did. Need I say more, mon ami?”

“I suppose not, but what exactly happened to him?” Doc’s voice soured at the mention of Olivier, whose glare was shooting daggers in return. A moment of tense eye contact passed before Emmanuelle responded.

“No one else got hurt. Some property damage of course, but Olivier is the only one who got hit by anything. I think it’s just, er, stuff that flew into his leg? I am not sure.”

Silence.

“Thank you, Emmanuelle, you may go.”

“Wow, I’m Emmanuelle now, huh?” She playfully retorted before getting up to leave, shifting her vest in her arms. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Em…” Gustave warned as she left with her hands raised in surrender. Once again, there was a tense silence, the only noise coming from various machines scattered throughout the room.

“Are you going to help me or not, dipshit?” Lion snarled before twisting around to inspect his bloodied calf. Nursing his tender leg, blood dripping down his boots, Olivier sat in the most defensive way he could.

“Va te faire foutre,” Gustave spat, reaching for tools to remove the shrapnel in the other Frenchman’s leg and kept an iron grip on the tense limb. Wrenching it free from Olivier’s preening, the medic began to inspect it.

“Oh? Va mourir, Kateb,” was the response as Olivier grudgingly started to comply, refusing to wince when bits of drywall and shattered cement were pulled from his blood covered leg.

“I’d watch your mouth, Flament.” Even though his mood was definitely ruined by the sorry excuse for an operator, Gustave tried his best to disinfect the wound nicely and keep his stitches tidy. Surprisingly, Lion was quiet the entire time. The process took place in almost complete silence. Another few minutes of bandaging a little too tightly passed, then Doc let him go.

“I doubt you’re going to reclean and bandage your wound properly. Come back tomorrow afternoon,” he said gruffly, removing his bloodied gloves and threw them away, purposefully ignoring Lion’s gaze. After some inaudible mumbling from the taller, sandy haired man, the door slammed shut and Gustave finally turned around. Cursing the entire way, he stomped back to his desk and shuffled his mounds of paperwork, blood still boiling and teeth still clenched.

That was simply how it was between the two. Gilles, the poor man, couldn’t take a side. Twitch and Rook were wholly sick of the tension, but they had a much harder time trying to be more forgiving of Lion when he was the one who did anything that rubbed them the wrong way. Rook, as positive as he believed himself to be, couldn’t find common ground with the prickly fellow Frenchman. Of course, it was mostly due to his strong, unwavering loyalty for the medic he thought of as a brother. Julien admired Gustave greatly, considering how much time he spent working with him and how much good he had seen Doc do, whether he was on duty or not. Julien saw the way Gustave and Olivier fought, tooth and nail, and couldn’t help side with the person he thought of as selfless and compassionate. The GIGN’s beloved medic was a trustworthy member of Rainbow and a constant in the dangerous lives of everyone who worked with Six’s team. Overworked and always serving overtime, Gustave’s workaholic habits only added to Julien’s concerns but also made Doc an exemplary example of an operator to him. Julien couldn’t help but appreciate the humanitarian efforts of Gustave. The doctor was an idol of his, flaws and all. Lion? To Rook, he was something like a friend, but Olivier’s thorny exterior didn’t do much to help their limited friendship. He had to admit, though, that Olivier was quite a lot of fun to be around whenever a sparring session was needed. He was a worthy opponent and respectable fighter. His persistence and indefatigable nature was something Julien aspired to emulate. However, Lion was the kind of person he would go out and drink with every once in a while but never truly get to know. It was all very surface-level, Rook thought.

Twitch, no matter how much she enjoyed a good gossip, hated the arguments, if one could call Doc and Lion’s fights “arguments.” They were horrible, chock full of smothering insults and shouting laced with enmity and poison. They were bitter and they were hateful. They made her feel defensive and conflicted. Did she have to choose a side? She was incredibly loyal to Doc, considering their close friendship and the amount of times he came to the rescue for her and everyone else in the GIGN. He was a great secret keeper and amazing listener, even if he was only pretending to do so sometimes. Their trust in each other was mutual, and she liked Gustave’s logic-based, straightforward advice. Even though both respected each other immensely, she did have to hear snide comments about Olivier whenever he was brought up in conversation. Despite this, she couldn’t help but feel like Lion deserved a second chance. After all, who had spent the most time with her in the workshop by far, staying late to work with her on her drones? Who had been the quickest to volunteer to help her to the infirmary when she fell severely ill in the middle of a mission? Who gave her the expensive bottle of wine for her birthday when it was only the GIGN operators who bothered to remember? Olivier Flament. Despite her hope for a kinder Olivier and for peace between him and Gustave, he kept brushing her away and constantly took out his anger on her, even if it was really meant for Doc. It was hard to put up with. “Sorry,” she’d tell him wearily before leaving the room. “I don’t want to deal with this.”

For Rook, it really came down to a deep bias. For Twitch, it was her growing tired of Lion’s sour attitude. Simple.

It wasn’t quite like that for Gilles. Montagne found himself as the middleman of this inter-GIGN war. A unit he thought of as family. Even though he was close to both Gustave and Olivier, Gilles couldn’t figure out the root of their problem. As far as he remembered, the two were quite close before. What changed?

“Gus,” he called from the doorway after being brushed off by Lion, who he had caught stomping out of the medic’s office.

“Gilles,” Gustave responded coldly, still facing away from the door, tidying up his cabinet of supplies next to his desk, tossing away some empty boxes.

“What was Olivier doing here?”

“Injury.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay, mon ami?”

“Yes.”

“So...no?”

“He’s just being himself and it...displeases me.”

“Understatement of the year,” Montangne mused, walking over and leaning on the counter, observing Doc. “You know he’s not that bad, right? You must’ve known, considering you’re familiar with him from some time before.”

“Merde, that was a misjudgement on my part. I don’t want anything to do with that prick.”

“You both work together frequently, and you make dinners in the GIGN dorm quite uncomfortable. Don’t you want to make amends and spare everyone else?”

“Gilles—“

“No, really.”

“Let it go.”

“Gustave,” he warned, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m being serious, this is an issue whether you know it or not. It can jeopardize future operations, it’s clear you can’t work together in training simulations—“

“Look,” Doc snarled, slamming a cabinet closed and whirling around to face Gilles. “I have my reasons. We worked together fine in New Mexico. I’m sick of being the one trying to repair whatever relationship we had. I tried, he didn’t reciprocate. I’m done.” Coldly, he brushed past the other man and went back to sifting through paperwork.

“Please. I understand, but there has to be something you both can do.” Gilles was practically begging him at this point, briskly striding towards Gustave’s desk and turning his chair to face him. “Anything. I’ll talk to him, you can figure it out from there.”

After a moment’s pause, Gustave threw down a folder and leaned back, groaning while straightening his crisp white coat. “Talk to him and I’ll try again.”

A pause.

“It means a lot, Gus.” Gilles patted his back and chatted a bit about his day before swiftly exiting, leaving Gustave to think briefly about Olivier before returning his focus to his work.

Unbeknownst to him, Olivier had a similar talk with Gilles. It began as hostile as Gilles’ conversation with Gustave had, but Olivier was the one to pour out the story. The Ebola crisis, the collateral damage, Doc’s vicious retaliation, their previous friendship, everything. All of this information came after a week and a half of partly pressure and partly gained trust. Olivier, while quick to retaliate, was slow to trust. His facade of permanent arrogance and pugnaciousness crumbled in the face of those he believed to have his best interest at heart. Gilles began to get why both were so upset with each other, and it fueled his drive to bring them back together. Satisfied with both men’s responses, Gilles talked to both again, saying that the other agreed to try to make it up to the other.

He thought it was a little selfish of him to try and intervene, but what else could be done? Both Olivier and Gustave were headstrong and opinionated. Eerily enough, Gilles thought they were similar in many ways. Perhaps it was this exact fact that Montagne wanted them to understand. Still, it seemed that their differences were not what drove them apart. Rather, their similarities stood out enough to clash, while unawareness raised a heightened sense of conflict and blinded both to the hypocrisy of their own ideals. Gilles couldn’t have his GIGN team torn apart by the past, no matter how bitter and bloody. He adamantly held blind faith in the power of unity within the group, and it was well known that nothing could stop him from enforcing that mindset. Miscommunication came between Doc and Lion, and Montagne hoped that meeting on neutral ground would catalyze the rebuilding of burned bridges.

Olivier had mixed opinions. On one hand, he didn’t want to let down his guard and risk his pride and beg for forgiveness. On the other, he realized that unless one of them left, there was no escape from working together. He took the issue to church, consulting his pastor and some monks in hope that they could come up with a solid solution to the dilemma that had lasted him a very long time. Returning from his Sunday mass with a strong sense of resolve, he settled on trying to be the bigger person with the advice of his friends at the church. While he did indeed find this difficult, he felt like the brothers of the church were right. No use fighting fire with fire; take the high ground. Cautiously, his battle to repair his bond with Gustave began. It was difficult to adequately explain, but Olivier felt the need to fix things. Something out there compelled him to do so. Whether it was God or an itch to clear a guilt-heavy conscience, that “something” stubbornly wrenched him from his haze of defensive anger towards Gustave and cleared his head for a brief moment, enough to definitively commit him to his revelation.

A week after their skirmish, Lion traversed the base in search of the coffee machine, hoping a peace offering of a fresh cup of espresso would test the waters. After asking a few of the SAS operators, only to be met with brusque answers, he turned to Emmanuel, who he had found lounging in the workshop, wearing a GIGN hoodie and lazily testing her drone. Thoroughly anxious, he felt like a fool for being nervous about anything relating to his quest to make amends with Doc.

“Em.” Rapping the wooden table to get her attention, he leaned against an empty chair next to Jäger, who was too busy to notice.

“Olivier,” she greeted, stretching. “Need something?”

“Er, oui,” he hesitated. “Where’s the coffee machine?”

She thought for a moment, brows wrinkled in concentration. “I know there’s one back at our dorms in the living room, but the one in the base is always moving around. Why? Don’t you drink coffee?”

“Merci. Just wondering. I don’t get coffee from the base.” He quickly exited, giving a curt nod in the direction of some recruits working in a corner who were staring. He continued his trek, finally satisfied when he found a quaint coffee maker in a secluded corner of the communal living and dining room. After a few unsuccessful tries to get it to work properly, he wondered if this was truly worth it.

“A fucking waste,” he grumbled after ten minutes of fumbling around the machine. The coffee looked acceptable, but Lion was beginning to remember the significance of his anger-filled falling out with Doc. Gustave didn’t fucking understand. I bet the bastard never understood death, the damned medic, Olivier thought, gripping the coffee cup tightly as he made his way to the infirmary, purposely walking slower than normal. All about saving lives and shit. The asshole loves preaching about human life but he doesn’t understand death like I do, because I...

No, that’s not right. Olivier felt deflated, the strange bout of petty angst abruptly leaving him.

Maybe neither of us understand what happened in Africa. Determined once more, Lion pressed on, desperate for at least some closure with the past and answers as to why the intertwined parts of him and Gustave were driven away in the midst of the collateral damage and conflict. A mix of almost instinctual anger and resentment fused with a repressed sense of fear became a strange conglomerate that merged with hesitation and dread, all of which came bubbling up as Olivier approached Gustave’s office door. With the inner turmoil of a prisoner on death row, he knocked three times.

“Come in,” Gustave’s professional voice came from inside. Seemingly in slow motion, Lion watched his hand reach for the handle.

This is it, Flament.

[astridflowers]

Pins and Needles (SacklerxReader) (1/?)

This is my first attempt at writing but I felt inspired x I Hope you enjoy.

https://my.w.tt/povTqX0rq9

"Flowers!" mark called from the kitchen in your studio. Mark was the senior artist at the studio, Eye of the Needle. He liked to call you flowers as you had recently dyed your hair purple and he said it made you look like Ramona Flowers from the Scott Pilgrim comics, which you took as a complement overall. "What's wrong ?" You called back putting down your sketchbook and rising from the sofa that was near the entrance at the shop. It was usually reserved for customers as they waited but was a great spot to curl up in and just draw when you had a quiet day like today. "When is anything ever wrong" he replied whilst walking towards you with two steaming cups. " I thought you would just like a coffee you've been sat in your nest for hours" he smirked. You took the mug from him and took a big sip. You all but moaned at the warm comforting taste. "Your too good to me" you sighed. "Yeah,yeah I know your eviction notice is in the post" he winked. You gave him a glare then sat back down on the couch. You worked in a small tattoo studio in New York. It was you mark and two other artists Rebecca and Phil but they weren't in today. You moved to New York a year ago from England so your accent was always a conversation starter and ice breaker to new clients you worked on. Apparently having a british accent in New York made you pretty much an alien and you got a lot of requests to repeat words back to them as "everything sounds soo much better with your accent". So far you loved New York and you had a few regular clients but your social life was all but none existent out side of the shop. You lived in an apartment by yourself with your German Shepard dog Bear and your bearded dragon Eggy who you had recently rescued and besides coming to work,the store and the occasional trip to the gym you didn't really get out much. It had just turned four PM and mark let out a loud sigh as he stretched and walked over to the front desk."You don't have to hand around here flowers, ill probably close up a little early as I doubt they'll be many walk ins today". "It's ok I honestly have nothing else on " you smiled not looking up from your drawing you finished a while ago and we're just procrastinating shading in parts you already had. "Nah not allowed a young thing like you needs to be out,live a little go see your friends" he started to make shooing motions with his hands you looked up and flared at him "yeah that's not me" you replied. "Come on Y/N you seriously have nothing else you'd rather be doing then on this sofa listening to me". "Besides here home and gym I don't do anything and I like my routine" you smiled. He made a disgusted face "can't stand those gym places you'll never get me in there and look at me the picture of fitness" he flexed his heavily tattooed arms making you giggle. Mark wasn't unfit in anyway if anything he was quiet attractive he was a good bit older then you and he had long hair in a low pony tail,usually sporting black T-shirts and jeans with sleeves on both his arms they covered in beautiful artwork he'd acquired over the years and often told you stories about they're meanings and the artists. "You should try it" you laughed back "it's fun". He looked at you with a serious face "you disgust me flowers" his voice was monotone but you could see his mouth smirk slightly. You in no way were the image of a gym bunny with a height of 5ft 3 and your body was quite curvy. You didn't mind though you actually loved your hips and butt, you mainly went to the gym as you liked the excersize it made you feel good. "Well I suppose I could go there for a hour it's been a while since I've done any sort of workout" you thought. "Ok then if you want me gone soo badly, I know where I'm not wanted" you dramatically got up from the couch and marched to your leather jacket on the hook."good your scaring away the customers" he winked as you put on your jacket and grabbed your keys. "See you tomorrow grumpy" you laughed as you started to walk back to your apartment.

You got in the door greeted by an excited bear and grabbed a bag and started to pack a towel your water bottle and your gym clothes. "I know buddy it's good to see you too" you scratched behind the dogs ear "I'll be back in a hour I promise" you said as you made your way back out of the apartment.

You arrived at the gym and you were soo happy to see it was quiet in there too just a few people on the weights and a few more on the treadmills but overall not busy. You didn't mind when it was but you just felt like you could get more into your workouts with a quieter atmosphere. You did some squats, light weights and were now doing a fast walk on the tread mill when you heard a familiar accent "I thought that was you Y/N!" Jessa, a frequent client of yours ran up to you. You slowed down your machine to a stop and then jumped off to talk to her. "Oh my god hey" you smiled Jessa was in a vest and shorts with her long blonde hair in a messy bun, how the hell did she always look so effortlessly pretty you thought. " I didn't know you came here" you smiled. "Oh fuck no,well not usually" she laughed "Adams been trying to get me to excersize saying I'll feel better and he gets a runners high but I dunno I'm not feeling it" she shrugged looking around the room. She was physically tiny and didn't look like she'd sweat at all. "Well I guess it's not for everyone" you laughed. "Yeh but after least I can say I've tried it and he'll get off my back" she laughed. Adam ? Oh now you remember Jessa had mentioned a on and off again partner she had during one of your sessions. "Adam ? That's your boyfriend right" she nodded " yeah , well currently we're kind of off and on for a while now but we're good" she shrugged again you just smiled and nodded. "Wanna get out of here and go for a coffee or something " she asked. You thought about it for a second before marks voice in your head appeared maybe you did need to socialise and have friends. "Erm sure sounds good just need to change" you smiled she nodded and you both walked to the changing room.

Jessa went into a one of the shower stalls saying she wanted to have a quick shower even though she didn't look like she's sweat at all. You started to change in-front of your locker as there was no one else in the changing room. You stripped and changed into your clean underwear you'd packed a loud bang of a door somewhere outside startled you but after standing for a minute with silence you continued and slipped on your new shirt. Another loud bang,a door a bit closer to the changing rooms. You again paused but then grabbed your ripped jeans out of your bag and bent down to slip them on. The changing room door swung open behind you and you heard a "oh ..wow fuck" you spun round quickly pulling up your pants fast to cover your bare ass. You were greeted to a beast of a man easily over 6 foot with long shaggy dark hair and a goatee. If you hadn't just flashed this guy you'd say he was gorgeous. His voice broke you out of your staring "Erm sorry, shit erm " he was rubbing his facial hair as he spoke clearly embarrassed or nervous. "I didn't mean to , I'm not meant to be i here clearly , I was, there was no one out there I was trying to get into the gym" you had to smile at how clustered he was or maybe it was because you were extremely attracted to him. "Hey don't worry you were a few minutes too late for a full show don't worry about it " you laughed and winked pulling your leather jacket over your shoulders trying to make light of it to calm him down. He met your eyes and smiled "well damn" he laughed showing his strong dimples. He was still looking you over, now it was your turn to be nervous. "Erm yeh well the main gym is straight down the hall big doors" you smiled still mentioning the staring competition he was just about to open his mouth to speak again when Jessa's voice broke your stare "Those showers are fucking freezing I'm not kidding" she was walking over with a towel over her head drying her hair when she looked up at the man who was still on the doorway. "Adam!?" Shit. "That's Adam?" You almost choked.You got in the door greeted by an excited bear and grabbed a bag and started to pack a towel your water bottle and your gym clothes. “I know buddy it’s good to see you too” you scratched behind the dogs ear “I’ll be back in a hour I promise” you said as you made your way back out of the apartment.

You arrived at the gym and you were soo happy to see it was quiet in there too just a few people on the weights and a few more on the treadmills but overall not busy. You didn’t mind when it was but you just felt like you could get more into your workouts with a quieter atmosphere. You did some squats, light weights and were now doing a fast walk on the tread mill when you heard a familiar accent “I thought that was you Y/N!” Jessa, a frequent client of yours ran up to you. You slowed down your machine to a stop and then jumped off to talk to her. “Oh my god hey” you smiled Jessa was in a vest and shorts with her long blonde hair in a messy bun, how the hell did she always look so effortlessly pretty you thought. “ I didn’t know you came here” you smiled. “Oh fuck no,well not usually” she laughed “Adams been trying to get me to excersize saying I’ll feel better and he gets a runners high but I dunno I’m not feeling it” she shrugged looking around the room. She was physically tiny and didn’t look like she’d sweat at all. “Well I guess it’s not for everyone” you laughed. “Yeh but after least I can say I’ve tried it and he’ll get off my back” she laughed. Adam ? Oh now you remember Jessa had mentioned a on and off again partner she had during one of your sessions. “Adam ? That’s your boyfriend right” she nodded “ yeah , well currently we’re kind of off and on for a while now but we’re good” she shrugged again you just smiled and nodded. “Wanna get out of here and go for a coffee or something “ she asked. You thought about it for a second before marks voice in your head appeared maybe you did need to socialise and have friends. “Erm sure sounds good just need to change” you smiled she nodded and you both walked to the changing room . Jessa went into a one of the shower stalls saying she wanted to have a quick shower even though she didn’t look like she’s sweat at all. You started to change in-front of your locker as there was no one else in the changing room. You stripped and changed into your clean underwear you’d packed a loud bang of a door somewhere outside startled you but after standing for a minute with silence you continued and slipped on your new shirt. Another loud bang,a door a bit closer to the changing rooms. You again paused but then grabbed your ripped jeans out of your bag and bent down to slip them on. The changing room door swung open behind you and you heard a “oh ..wow fuck” you spun round quickly pulling up your pants fast to cover your bare ass. You were greeted to a beast of a man easily over 6 foot with long shaggy dark hair and a goatee. If you hadn’t just flashed this guy you’d say he was gorgeous. His voice broke you out of your staring “Erm sorry, shit erm “ he was rubbing his facial hair as he spoke clearly embarrassed or nervous. “I didn’t mean to , I’m not meant to be i here clearly , I was, there was no one out there I was trying to get into the gym” you had to smile at how clustered he was or maybe it was because you were extremely attracted to him. “Hey don’t worry you were a few minutes too late for a full show don’t worry about it “ you laughed and winked pulling your leather jacket over your shoulders trying to make light of it to calm him down. He met your eyes and smiled “well damn” he laughed showing his strong dimples. He was still looking you over, now it was your turn to be nervous. “Erm yeh well the main gym is straight down the hall big doors” you smiled still mentioning the staring competition he was just about to open his mouth to speak again when Jessa’s voice broke your stare “Those showers are fucking freezing I’m not kidding” she was walking over with a towel over her head drying her hair when she looked up at the man who was still on the doorway. “Adam!?” Shit. “That’s Adam?” You almost choked.