#stories are written to teach lessons no matter how subconscious

[2-faded-memory-2]

I honestly hate the 'm well im a writer so obviously i torture all ym characters' or something to that extent because like. no. I 'torture' my characters by giving them moments to navigate to change shitty character traits they have. Any competent narrative driven work ive ever so much as gotten a vague outline for has had reasoning for any bad thing that happened. Maybe i write a one off pure whump thing, but even then its usually just a section of a bigger thing that ill clean up later. Im not senselessly throwing some character itno the worst thing ever and im sick of hearing stupid hyperbolic jokes about it.

[defenders-core]

I've been thinking about that Ms. Marvel trailer a lot since it dropped, and how disappointing it is that they changed her powers, especially in the way that they changed them. I've seen a lot of folks saying that the change doesn't matter as long as they get the character's personality right, and while I certainly don't begrudge anyone this completely fine opinion, or rain on anyone's parade, I do...feel this need to talk about what we lose through this change, thematically.

Ms. Marvel's origin story is a lot more low-key than...say...a Spider-Man origin. She goes to a party she wasn't supposed to, gets rejected by her white peers, gets exposed to terrigen mist, and gets powers. The moment from that story that matters, really, is the vision she gets while in the cocoon. She's spent the whole comic up until this point feeling at conflict with her family's values and customs. She loves the smell of bacon but can't eat it, she willing to put up with the barbs of the crappy cool kids because it makes her feel more "normal," she writes fanfics about superheroes and Nakia and her family don't understand why she cares about them. But then, while Kamala develops her powers, she sees a vision of Captain Marvel reciting a poem in Urdu. The superheroes in her vision discuss her reasons and repercussions for going to the party. She wanted to be accepted by her peers, even at the cost of denying her family, her culture, and her history. In the end, even that wasn't enough for her to be accepted. When Kamala breaks out of the cocoon, with her shapeshifting powers, she is wearing Carol Danvers's old costume and, tellingly, she has blonde hair.

Here, G Willow Wilson states outright the central theme of her run on her character: Kamala thinks who she is and who she wants to be are fundamentally opposed. Kamala wants to be a superhero and she wants to be accepted by the people around her, but she doesn't believe she can be a superhero as herself. The second she gets powers, she subconsciously uses those powers to imitate whiteness, because that's how she pictures superheroes. The story points out directly that this is the problem Kamala Khan's existence as a character might help redress; we fight for better representation in fiction because otherwise readers internalize who can and cannot be the protagonists of certain stories. Media as it exists is limiting. We can see, directly, how it has limited this protagonist. Now this protagonist will learn to overcome those limits and in doing so teach us the same lesson. We can't get this moment without this power. But it goes further than that.

I know MCU Kamala can't be an inhuman because reasons, but her being an inhuman sure does do a lot for this theme. Kamala's powers are core to her - written in her DNA and literally inherited from the family she feels are so limiting. She didn't have the powers bestowed on her through a wishing machine or a spider-bite. She's always been special; she's always had the ability to become a superhero. Her powers are internal to her, and, necessarily, they are LITERALLY her. She fights entirely by using her body. She cannot separate herself from her powers, which are the thing she has always wanted. A lot of folks have talked about how the stretchy powers are representative of puberty and like yeah, for sure that's part of it. But we know those powers don't go away when she grows up. Everything Kamala felt conscious about before gaining powers has become a literal source of strength. She wouldn't be able to fight for Jersey if she had different parents.

In the show trailer, I think it's....a grave oversight that her powers work in exactly the opposite way. MCU Kamala gets her powers from what I assume are the quantum bands. These powers are EXTERNAL to her. Maybe it'll be different in the show, but in the comics, if someone else wears the quantum bands, they get all the same powers. This isn't something she inherited, it's something she found. And she fights, again, externally. She shoots energy from the bands outward, not relying on herself, the part of her that the trailer suggests she is still very self-conscious about.

I think the show can still be good, obviously, but that they changed her powers - and the WAY they chose to change her powers - implies to me that much of what is core to the essence of Ms. Marvel has been misread or ignored, here. So while I'll withhold judgement until I've seen the show, I think it's fair - and maybe even necessary - that we ask why they made these changes, and how the character might need to change to accommodate them.

[horde-princess]

A Meta on Catra’s Relationships with DT, Scorpia, and Adora

I’m so excited to write this finally ljsdflkj okay so. I’ve been thinking about why the creators would choose to center a whole season around this new character Double Trouble. They drove the plot and played a major role in a really important part of the story, Catra’s redemption. So I wanna think more about the purpose of this character and go deeper into a couple of their scenes with Catra.

tbh Catra and DT’s very first interaction says it all: DT literally takes the form of Scorpia and tells Catra “I’m about to become your new best friend.” As the season goes on, Double Trouble replaces Scorpia as a sort of artificial confidant for Catra. But it blows up in her face and the purpose of the whole thing is to shed light on Catra’s main internal conflict: her desire for love vs. her fear of heartbreak/vulnerability.

In other words, I believe Double Trouble was introduced as a foil to Scorpia. But if we think about how Scorpia is also a foil to Adora,��then that means DT is like... a foil to a foil. So they’re not directly associated with Adora but a lot of what they do relates back to her. Yeah there are a lot of layers here lmao but basically what I’m gonna analyze is how Catra’s relationships with these three characters intertwine and build off each other in season 4 to set the stage for Catra’s redemption (and catradora endgame hollaaa)

So in the beginning, Catra and DT both understand their relationship to be a business arrangement. When does that start to change for Catra, and why?

Catra’s History With Betrayal

Just think about Catra’s relationships at the start of s4.. After the portal, Adora had basically severed whatever was left of their relationship, and that was shown to be weighing on Catra all season. Scorpia and Entrapta were the only other people she cared about, but Entrapta betrayed her (first by monopolizing Hordak’s attention then by refusing to open the portal), then Scorpia dared to question her decision to send their friend to die and her presence became a constant reminder of Catra’s guilt. In fact, the mere mention of Entrapta’s name in 4x03 causes Catra to snap and yell at Scorpia “we are not friends!” ... which of course isn’t true. Catra may think Scorpia’s annoying but she confided in her, her loyalty made Catra feel like she could trust her.. and that’s exactly why Catra always tried so hard to push her away. All the betrayals in her life scarred her so deeply that she wanted to avoid emotional intimacy at all costs. I’m about to get Jungian up in this shit bc we see a deep disconnect between Catra’s outward actions (her conscious) and her inner desires (subconscious) this season and it’s this i believe that leads to her breakdown in 4x10. It’s an unsustainable way to live.

Why Catra Trusted Double Trouble

So by 4x04, Catra had sabotaged her only two relationships. She was utterly alone, and vulnerable, and Double Trouble was in the right place at the right time offering their loyalty to her.. so Catra did what any emotionally stable person would do and subconsciously used a hired mercenary to try and fill the growing void in her heart. I don’t think Catra actually cared about DT much at all, like sure they got along and that matters on some level, but I think it’s more that Catra was in a vulnerable place and DT was the only one around.

So why does Catra trust Double Trouble when she won’t let herself trust anyone else? I’ve seen some posts saying it’s because Catra is self-destructive--i.e. she only seeks love from people who won’t give it to her because she doesn’t believe she deserves love--which is super true.. but I think her motivations can be better explained by saying that Catra knew from the start that Double Trouble didn’t really care about her, and that’s why the partnership was attractive to her (at first). She thought it would be safe--no vulnerability, no risk of heartbreak. But the truth is Catra’s just not as disaffected as she wishes she was.

The moment Catra really let her guard down was when Double Trouble saved her from the collapsing building in 4x04. 

can we just!! talk about this scene!!!! the way her voice shakes when she says “saving me” just, oh my god... like what a touchy subject for her, right? Shes spent her whole life resenting how Adora was always trying to “save” her from everything. I’m not sure but I think White Out (2x05) was the only other time Catra thanked someone for saving her life, and she just says “thanks for getting us out of there.” So her use of the word “save” here is special and it illustrates how deeply vulnerable Catra feels this season, and more importantly it’s a sign of character development! It’s no coincidence that the theme of saving is connected between DT, Scorpia, and Adora. It’s leading up to Catra learning to replace her resentment towards Adora with something closer to gratitude. 

But while the scene connects these relationships, it also highlights their differences. After Catra displays an astounding amount of vulnerability with DT, they coolly reply “well, I live to serve... for a price, of course.”

This right here is the first step of Catra’s breakdown. Suppressed desires making themselves known, one half of her heart rebelling against the other. She was pushing away her real friends and finding hollow companionship with someone she thought she wouldn’t get attached to, but it happened anyway.

The difference between Double Trouble and Scorpia must have become glaringly obvious to Catra in that moment. Whereas Scorpia was loyal to Catra out of love, DT was mostly interested in getting paid. And she was surprised by how much that hurt. She fucking hated how much it hurt, you can see it written all over her face. It’s why she fails Scorpia’s little test in 4x06. Because of Double Trouble, Catra’s true desires were threatening to break free, so outwardly she fights against it and acts more resistant than ever to being friends with Scorpia. She castigates her, calls her annoying and incompetent, harsher than we’ve ever seen... but she didn’t expect Scorpia to hit back (we did, tho. Scorpia’s an icon).

In four words Scorpia teaches Catra a hard lesson about what it means to earn someone’s loyalty. She knew she must’ve really fucked up if she somehow managed to push away the most loyal person in all of Etheria. And again the fake nature of Catra’s relationship with Double Trouble provides a reference for her to see why Scorpia’s loyalty, based in love, was so valuable, and why she shouldn’t have taken it for granted. It also relates to Adora because, similar to Scorpia, Adora had been trying so hard these past 3 seasons to connect with Catra, but she refused to forgive her and her behavior eventually forced Adora to cut ties. So Scorpia calling her out pushes Catra towards accepting some personal responsibility for everything that happened with Adora, too. Man there are just.. a ton of implications here.

Then Catra gives Hordak a fun pep talk but really it’s just her self-projecting all over him:

At this point her hateful actions and her goal to conquer Etheria are extremely out of line with her true desires and we can see it’s really affecting her mental state. It wasn’t just one thing or person that caused her breakdown, it was a combination of Adora severing their relationship, and Scorpia’s disappointment in her, and Double Trouble’s indifference towards her. All three of these situations were playing off each other and chipping away at Catra’s carefully crafted armor, revealing a desire to be loved hidden underneath... which she continued to fight against for as long as she could. Adora and Scorpia were playing their roles in helping Catra learn to take responsibility for her life, but those relationships wouldn’t have been so effective had it not been for how they were contrasted with Double Trouble’s indifference. Anyway have I mentioned how amazing and complex this show is????

Catra Loses DT and Scorpia Around the Same Time

4x07 is the last time Catra talks to Double Trouble before they get captured by the rebels. Coincidentally, Catra realizes that Scorpia left her just one episode later, which once again points to a connection between these two characters. From 4x08 to 4x11 Catra is completely alone, feeling like she has lost everyone in her life. It sets the stage for her meltdown in 4x10. But my fave part about Scorpia leaving is how it changes the way Catra thinks about betrayal. 

Even if Scorpia didn’t tell Catra where she was going in the note she left, Catra had to have assumed she was leaving to join the Rebellion because where else would she have gone right? So the two people Catra loves most have now BOTH abandoned her to join the rebellion. I don’t even wanna think about how triggering that betrayal must have been for Catra.. I don’t wanna think about how the next time Catra sees Scorpia she’s going to be a full blown princess with powers and everything, just like what happened with Adora. 

But there’s a key difference between Adora and Scorpia. Catra knows at this point that Adora didn’t want to leave her behind, but she did anyway to pursue some destiny that Catra wasn’t a part of, which left her feeling betrayed. Scorpia, on the other hand--the very definition of ‘loyalty’--left her specifically because Catra pushed her away. Her fear of vulnerability manifested as anger towards someone she refused to admit that she cared about, and it pushed her away.

Once again I think Scorpia is teaching Catra a lesson about taking responsibility for some of the shit in her life. It’s a privilege that Adora lost after being careless with Catra’s trust, and thus Scorpia was the only one in a position to reach Catra and help her. But I think that the things Catra learned from Scorpia are going to play back into her relationship with Adora and allow them to reconcile (when Adora deals with her own issues too).

We can also say a little about how Double Trouble’s betrayal contrasts with Scorpia’s and Adora’s. I think their complete emotional detachment is the perfect frame of reference for Catra to be able to acknowledge that even though Scorpia and Adora left her, they DID love her, and they never stopped trying to reach out to her--at least, not until Catra crossed a line with both of them. At some point, Catra went from being justified in her feelings of betrayal to overdoing it, placing too much blame where it didn’t belong and closing the door to forgiveness. So I think that’s the role that Double Trouble played there, helping Catra see that difference. Like even if someone leaves you, hurts you, it doesn’t always mean they don’t love you. Relationships take work and understanding and forgiveness and you have to learn how to handle that or you’ll always be alone. Scorpia’s the pure embodiment of that lesson, and she’s lighting the way for Catra to navigate the much more nebulous waters of her grudge against Adora.

Double Trouble’s Betrayal

So now Catra is feeling abandoned by Scorpia and Double Trouble (her only friends) and we see the disconnect between what’s in her heart and the front she’s been putting on come to a head in 4x10 when she has that meltdown. She’s kind of losing it because her fear and heartbreak are driving her down a path that she doesn’t actually want. It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. In 4x12 she continues to hold on desperately to the idea that beating Adora will make her happy, because at this point she doesn’t see any way to turn the car around.

There’s an absolutely fantastic scene early in 4x12 that sets up Double Trouble’s betrayal beautifully, like really it’s a masterpiece. Catra’s childhood friends walk in on her in the locker room and they’re laughing and joking around and for a second it’s like... Catra longs to be a part of that again.. To have friends, to be happy. But then Kyle accidentally kicks one of Scorpia’s old doodles (a painful reminder that she’s gone) and Catra freaks out and attacks them. Kyle’s like “we used to be friends, why are you treating us like this?” So she lets them leave, feeling alone and miserable, and THAT’S when Double Trouble waltzes in... having had just made a deal with Glimmer to double cross Catra.

God it hurts so much. The contrast between her pushing away Scorpia and her real friends, and then her childlike relief upon seeing the person who just sold her out.

This scene gives me fucking chills with the nightmare-ish music and everything.. It’s like, at this point DT is just fucking with her, they’ve already got Catra figured out. This face touch is so cruel and fits with the show’s motif of manipulative affection, too. For me it felt very disconcerting to see Catra like this... unaware that she’s been defeated yet she’s so emotionally vulnerable here, she’s like putty in Double Trouble’s hands. Scorpia leaving cracked her open and, as they’re the last person left standing with Catra’s trust, Double Trouble’s in the perfect position to come in and break her.

So the next episode 4x13 has that crazy scene where Double Trouble totally obliterates Catra and I’m not even gonna talk about it lmao because yall have already done a great job analyzing it. But I do wanna draw attention to the fact that this is the only thing she says in this whole scene:

Can you believe that’s what mattered the most to her in that moment? Not that literally everything she had been working for for the past 4 seasons had just turned to dust before her eyes, but the fact that this random mercenary she hired betrayed her. And there was no anger at all, just... heartbreak.

And then look at what she says to Glimmer afterwards (setting aside the fact that Catra is basically giving up on life...) she says nothing about the war, nothing about winning or revenge. The only thing she’s thinking about is how lonely she feels.

So by the end of Season 4, I think Catra did finally figure out what she truly wanted in life. She didn’t want to be on top just for power’s sake, she wanted people to respect her, to love her, so that no one could hurt her anymore. But she was so obsessed with winning that she ended up losing everyone’s respect. Wow haha if only she could get a second chance to earn it back the right way.... like say if, idk, she was trapped in space jail and forced to team up with her sworn enemy to survive and they came out best friends or something <:)

To sum up, Double Trouble’s role in Season 4 was to break Catra’s mask and force her to consider what she truly wants. I think their betrayal taught Catra to really appreciate what a terrible mistake she made in pushing Scorpia and Adora away. It taught her the difference between someone leaving her because they don’t care about her, and someone cutting ties with her even though they do care for her very deeply, they just couldn’t take Catra treating them like crap anymore. It showed her that what Adora did was nothing like what DT did. That’s what a betrayal feels like when the person doesn’t care about you. Someone who doesn’t care about you isn’t going to beg for your forgiveness for 3 seasons and risk being obliterated from existence just to get you back.

But the real beauty of season 4 was how Catra hitting rock bottom had almost nothing to do with Adora. With the help of other friends Catra has begun to find her own reasons to change, she’s acknowledging her guilt and heartbreak and discovering the person she wants to become. She’s learning to take responsibility instead of just blaming other people. And this character development had nothing to do with romance, just like how Adora breaking free of her destiny and learning to let go of control had little to do with Catra. I love the different perspectives on love that they give us with Catra, Adora, and Scorpia. I love how this show takes the “love conquers all” trope and subverts it, saying that sometimes.. love breaks you. Sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes it’s used as a weapon. Sometimes you have to let go of people you love, but it opens up space for you to figure out who you are and what you want and to conquer your own demons. You’ll come out the other side with a better understanding of what real, healthy love is supposed to look like. And maybe in the end, the love you always sought will find you again, in its own time, in its own way. 💘

[blue-lions-baby]

Operation Confession (Dimitri x F!Reader) [Ch. 2]

ah! i felt like i should specify that this is a f!reader. sorry about that. all of my stories have been f!reader and i (waking up in a cold sweat) realized it would prob be better for me to specify that from now on. i’m so sorry for not putting it earlier! from now on, i will specify if it is f!reader or not.

this has got to be one of the longest fics i have ever written (this chapter alone pushing slightly past 5000 words). i am *so* glad i split it up into different chapters. imagine if this was just one big oneshot oh my g

also, i found some loose inspiration for dimitri’s wardrobe change from be my princess 2′s ivan chernenkov!

okay, that’s about it. sorry for the long intro! now, please enjoy chapter 2!

~*~

“Sylvain...”

“Yeah?”

“Was it truly necessary to tell everyone about my... predicament?”

“I-If I may, Your Highness,” Ashe piped up, “we were already aware of your feelings towards (F/N). You’re not exactly... subtle.”

Everyone-- including Byleth who was grading papers at their desk-- all nodded their head in agreement.

“See?! C’mon, even the Professor noticed the sparks between you two!”

“That’s because they’re Professor Byleth, Sylvain.” Ingrid informed with a sigh.

“Oh yeah. Fair point.”

“Where is (F/N)?” Dimitri queried, not seeing your radiant face among the crowd.

“Well, Mercie and I...” Annette began, her cheeks spreading into a grin. “We pulled a little... prank, on our dear (F/N).”

“A-A prank?”

“Nothing too serious. We just did something that will slow her down.” Mercedes assured sweetly. Sylvain clicked his tongue loudly.

“Don’t worry about her! Remember why we’re all gathered here.”

Murmurs bounced around the attendees; before Dimitri could ask what kind of scheme the redhead roped them into, his loyal retainer announced,

“Your Highness, do you require assistance in confessing to (F/N)?”

Dimitri’s alabaster cheeks were hosed into an assortment of rubies and reds; dismay and horror and dread were all that filled his pretty azure eyes. The veins outlined in his neck and forehead grew sharper and sharper with each uncomfortable squeak that left the prince’s throat.

“Ridiculous. The boar actually has feelings?” Felix spat.

“Yeah. He needs help.” Sylvain answered, ignoring his scowling classmate.

“I-- You-- Sylvain, was this--?”

“My plan? Yeah.”

Dimitri would have killed Sylvain right then and there if it weren’t for the presence of several witnesses.

That didn’t mean he didn’t entertain the idea, though. Sylvain’s cool facade was pierced by the murderously sharp glow in the prince’s eyes.

“Not to worry, Your Highness!” Ashe cheerily interrupted Dimitri’s elaborate scheme of how to grind Sylvain’s kneecaps into a fine powder. “While on our way here, several of us have come up with ideas on how to get you two together!”

“Instead of us all working as one big group, we thought it would be wiser if we split up into smaller groups.” Ingrid mentioned.

“Mercie and I are together of course!” Annette’s eyes glowed excitedly. “After class, we’re gonna stop by the florist to buy (F/N)’s favorite flowers!”

“Why flowers, may I ask?”

“So you can give them to her later tonight!”

“T-Tonight?”

“This is where Ashe and I will lend you our aid.” Dedue stepped forward. “We will help you cook the perfect meal for (F/N).”

“Me? Cook?”

“(F/N) will surely be pleased that you put in the effort to cook her something! No matter the outcome, at least...” Ashe rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“And I suppose this is where we come in.” Ingrid said, motioning to herself, Sylvain, and Felix. “We will be making sure that everything goes smoothly, and will assist each group however way we can.”

“I’ll teach you everything I know when it comes to wooing the ladies.” Sylvain winked.

“I suppose I can serve as the ‘distraction.’ After class, I’ll ask (F/N) to spar with me so that should give you all some time to prepare.” Felix huffed.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind taste-testing the dishes that you prepare... J-Just to make sure (F/N) will like it! We do have similar tastes, so...” Ingrid blushed.

“I myself have devised a way to get you two together,” Byleth stated flatly, “and that starts with a brand new seating chart. I have separated you all into your different squadrons.”

Everyone crowded around the parcel of paper that Byleth spread on the table.

“Dimitri, you sit by (F/N) in the back of the room there. Mercedes and Annette, you sit together towards the front. Ashe, Dedue, in the row beside them. Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix will be sitting in this row, behind Mercedes and Annette. Understood?”

“N-No--”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Good. In your seats, everyone. If my calculations are correct, (F/N) should be coming in any minute now.”

Dimitri watched in plain confusion as everyone scrambled to their new seats. He automatically looked to Dedue for help, but only saw Ashe taking Dimitri’s usual spot beside the Duscur man. The sounds of curses haphazardly strewn about the vicinity along with an unsettling squelching sound echoed closer and closer to the classroom.

“Quickly now. Dimitri, in your seat.”

BANG!!!

The doors of the classroom smashed the stone wall with a thundering clap, rattling the slabs of wood on their hinges. You stumbled in, holding a dripping wet boot with one hand and your collection of study materials hastily bundled together in the other. The tousled blob of tangled tresses on the left side of your head starkly contrasted the sorry attempt of brushing on your right. Little leaves stuck out of the collar of your shirt and brown, crackly twigs pinned themselves onto your skirt.

“Good morning, Ms. (L/N). Turned rather... experimental this morning, have we?”

“P-Professor Byleth!” You bowed deeply, jumping when your books tumbled out of your grasp. “I am so, so sorry for being late! I’ve had the most horrendous morning...”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, when I woke up, i found my boots filled to the brim with water.” You chucked the boot you were holding towards the door and yanked off the one you were wearing; about a quarter bootful of water came cascading out of the shoe.

“Then my uniform-- which was folded neatly and placed on my desk the night before-- was thrown! Outside! Into some shrubs by my window!” You picked and plucked at the bits of foliage that accessorized your uniform with exasperation.

“And to top it all off, my hairbrush was missing! So I’ve been trying to comb my hair with my fingers, but that’s really hard to do when you’re holding a soggy boot in one hand and books in the other!”

You keeled over, wheezing, while the rest of the Blue Lions slowly turned their gaze to the two smiling girls in the front.

“That is... quite a tale.”

“Professor, I can not make this up. I feel like somebody is targeting me. But why? What could I have possibly done to deserve this?!”

“Nothing, (F/N). You’re right. What you went through was severe.” Byleth glanced down at two specific students sharply. “I will excuse your tardiness for today. Dimitri, please go help your new desk mate. I must start class immediately if we are to stay on schedule.”

“Of course, Professor...”

Oh no... Of all the... Since when did your class get a new seating chart? And why, of all people, were you placed beside Dreamy Dimi Dimitri?! Why was the Goddess punishing you? And for what?! You didn’t do anything! And now he has to see you looking like this for the rest of class? Why was life acting so cruel towards you?

“(F/N)?”

“Ah! D-Dimitri! Yes, hello!”

“Allow me to take your books to our desk.” He muttered politely, refusing to meet your gaze. Unable to say anything else without babbling like an idiot, you bowed gratefully to the prince as he scooped up your notes and books in his arms. Great! You were so disgusting, he couldn’t even look at you! Today was gonna be a long, long day...

Dimitri smoothed out the crinkled notes on your side of the row and his pupils happened upon a little scribble faintly scratched into the corner of the paper. The tips of his gloved fingers grazed the marking subconsciously, his brain not quite registering the ‘D’ drawn in the middle of a heart.

Color flooded your cheeks as you nabbed the paper away from Dimitri’s ‘prying’ eyes.

“Excuse me! I need that!”

“A-Ah. Of course. Forgive me.” Dimitri’s cognitive abilities had completely shut down, his entire being running solely on the etiquette lessons that were drilled into his head as a child.

Minutes ticked by, and Professor Byleth’s voice slowly joined the symphony of background noise. Neither you nor Dimitri processed a single word in class that day-- you huddling yourself into the closest semblance of a ball while Dimitri busied himself counting the specks on the floor in a vain, vain attempt to distract himself from the delightfully crisp apple notes that came from your hair (despite its... frazzled appearance).

The words that did process, however, was Byleth’s resounding ‘Class dismissed’ and you had never been happier to leave a lecture. Without casting a glance at anyone, you shoveled your studies into your arms and sped-walked out the classroom and towards the safe confines of your room to cry yourself to sleep.

But in your rush, a certain paper that was half-wedged between two books spiraled down, down, and further down. Dimitri’s watchful eye and skillful hand caught the piece of paper before it touched the ground and recognized the small, minimalist script as your handwriting. He looked up, eager to hand you your belonging, but...

“Er, Felix, have you seen (F/N)?”

“What? Did you not see her leave the classroom? I didn’t even get a chance to ask her to spar with me...”

“Well, she--” Dimitri choked on his own spit. “F-Felix--”

“What?”

Short, blubbering stammers made up a majority of Dimitri’s vernacular; Felix, growing impatient at the royal’s inability to form coherent thoughts, snapped the paper from Dimitri’s hand and read the contents.

“These are just notes on that battle formation we learned the other day.”

“No, there’s something on the corner up there...”

Felix’s sharp gaze followed Dimitri’s quivering finger.

“... Oh.”

“Fel, what’s up? You’re supposed to be training with (F/N) right now.”

“Sylvain. You take care of this.” Felix slapped the note into the redhead’s chest. “I’ll be by her quarters. When she finally decides to come out, I’ll ask her then.”

Then he was gone.

Sylvain, brows furrowed, unraveled the piece of paper that was so roughly shoved into him; his nose crinkled slightly.

“These are just notes.”

“The top...”

“Huh? What--... Ohhh. I see.” Sylvain’s light, angelic chortle didn’t mesh with the devilish smirk on his lips. “Your Highness, by any chance... Have you got an extra suit on you?”

“Hm? Well, yes, but it’s reserved for very special occasions.”

“Does a date with the girl of your dreams not fit that category?”

“... Allow me to show you where I keep it.”

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

Like a sailor heaving up a heavy sail battered by the ocean’s rageful tempest, you slowly hoisted your eyelids open with unimaginable difficulty. It felt like a bag of lead was tied to your eyelashes, keeping your eyes at a constant state of half-opened. You padded the soft, swollen flesh around your eyes and already knew the puffiness was there to stay-- at least for the rest of the day.

Two short knocks peppered your door and you very nearly chucked the closest item in your vicinity at it. You caught yourself, however, and face-planted into your damp pillow.

Two short knocks peppered your door as you sunk your face further into your cushion.

Two short knocks peppered your door as your anguish turned to ire.

Two short knocks--

“WHAT?!”

You had no memory of the actual journey from your bed to your door, but that didn’t matter much to you as you swung it open to face your grievance personified.

You caught Felix mid-knock and would have snapped his wrist if his knuckles dared to make contact with your door.

“What is it.” You croaked disdainfully.

“Wow. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Shut up. Just leave me alone.”

Your door was caught by your visitor’s firm yet gentle hold.

“Hang on. I... I’m sorry.” Felix swallowed thickly. “Today has been a pretty tough day for you.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Goodbye.”

“So,” Felix interjected, “spar with me.”

“What?”

“Let all your anger out on me. It’s not good to keep it inside.”

“That sounds strange, coming from you.”

“Trust me, it feels stranger saying it.” Felix grimaced. “Just... Please. Spar with me. Don’t let this fester inside you.”

He sounded almost pleadingly. A tiny portion of your heart swelled in gratitude towards the male; you stiffly wedged the door open.

“... Fine.”

The corners of Felix’s lips twitched upwards as you both headed for the training grounds.

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

“We got the flowers!” Annette burst into the dining hall, waving the bouquet with glee. Mercedes shortly followed.

“I saw Felix and (F/N) head for the training grounds. He’ll keep her occupied for at least an hour or two.”

“Just enough time to roast a Faerhgus fowl.” Dedue commented, smiling slightly.

“Great! Well, I guess I’ll keep watch, so if you need me...” Sylvain slipped out of the dining hall and leaned his frame by the entrance, smiling and waving at passing females.

“Oh, and remember Your Highness,” a spike of red popped back in, “don’t forget you still need to get changed.”

“Got it. Thank you, Sylvain.”

“(F/N) and I were on kitchen duty last week, and she mentioned she loves (Favorite Soup)! We can cook that as well.” Ashe’s eyes shone brightly.

“I can bake some sweets!” Mercedes chimed in.

“E-Everyone, I’m afraid my skills in the kitchen are... less than spectacular. I’m afraid I will only hinder your progress...” Dimitri took a hesitant step out of the kitchen as he watched his classmates get to work.

“Nonsense, Your Highness.” Dedue reassured as he picked out a fowl. “We will guide you. May you please wash and cut the potatoes?”

“O-Of course!” Dimitri dunked a handful of the starchy tubers into a bowl of cool water and made sure no speck of impurity remained on its surface. With Ashe’s saint-like patience and Dedue’s constant monitoring, the royal succeeded in cutting the lumpy veggie into nice, even cubes.

“Great job, Your Highness! Now, can you peel the carrots while I prepare the soup?”

“With pleasure, Ashe.”

Dimitri took the small blade in his hand and carefully skinned the carrots’ rough exterior away, revealing the healthy shade of orange underneath. Dimitri’s confidence grew with each slightly whittled but clean carrot he handed to Ashe and Dedue, and he was silently celebrating the fact that he hadn’t--

... Crack!

All eyes flashed to the source of the sound.

Dimitri stared at the large, compromising splinter running down the length of the knife’s wooden handle; he looked up slowly.

“Er... Is there, perhaps, another one that I can use?”

“A-Actually Your Highness,” Ashe laughed awkwardly, gently taking the ruined blade from his hand and leading him to the bowl of soup, “can you watch the soup and make sure it doesn’t burn or anything?”

“Y-Yes... Um, I apologize for--”

“Do not worry, Your Highness.” Dedue’s monotone voice rang clearly. “It was an accident.”

“Yes, but now the kitchen staff has one less knife to work with...”

“A problem that we can fix the next time we go to town.” Ingrid assured, finally breaking from her food-induced stupor. The savory scents of roasted duck interwove with the hearty notes of (Favorite Soup), creating a mouthwatering song that entranced the gourmand; the delicate, feathery hint of sweets that Mercedes was concocting complemented the deep, earthy tones set by the three males.

“Would you like some, Ingrid?” Mercedes queried sweetly, holding up a small assortment of freshly baked goods. “I know how patiently you’ve been waiting for a sample.”

Ingrid almost lunged at the plate in the cleric’s hand.

“Y-Yes. Thank you, Mercedes. I am excited to taste your sweets.” Ingrid proceeded to not-so-graciously inhale half of the plate’s colorful contents.

“Ah! Ingrid, that was for everyone!”

“Oh!” Ingrid, mouth half-full with sweets, slammed the plate down on the table. “I-I am so sorry! I just, I got super excited and--”

“It is quite all right, Ingrid.” Dimitri replied, his eyes not leaving the softly boiling pot of liquid for a second.

“Please do not look so upset, Ingrid. I can always bake more!” Mercedes gave the aspiring blonde knight a light squeeze. “When we’re done, I can bake you a whole tray of sweets!”

“That would be lovely.” Ingrid smiled, still slightly chewing. “Thank you, Mercedes.”

“Ah, Ashe, it’s boiling quite a lot now. I think the soup is done.”

“Not yet! I haven’t added any seasoning.” Ashe hummed thoughtfully. “Actually... Would you like to add them, Your Highness?”

“I believe a sense of taste would be necessary to accomplish such a task... I, unfortunately, have none.”

“Ah, well,” Ashe looked at the row of spices neatly spread out, “you can still try though! Ingrid can taste test the dish, and she can tell you what you need to add.”

“I suppose that can work... Ingrid--”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

Dimitri and Ashe almost jumped at the closeness of her voice. Turning around, they saw the lass mere inches away from them with a childlike glow in her eyes.

“Ingrid, how did you--”

“I heard I was taste testing, so I came as soon as I could.”

The prince and archer shared glances with each other before the latter was called to assist Dedue. With a quick bow and a ‘good luck,’ Dimitri was left all alone save for a bubbling pot of soup and an overly-enthusiastic assistant.

“I think it would be wise for me to have a taste now so we can see what we still need to add.” Reported Ingrid dutifully.

“Ah, establishing a baseline. That’s a great idea.” Dimitri stepped out of the foodie’s way.

Ingrid grabbed a ladle and scooped a humble amount in its trough before pouring it into a small bowl. Her lips caught the edge of the bowl and she slurped its contents. She hummed thoughtfully, taking another sip.

“It’s all right, but painfully average... We need more of everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Its flavors need to be boosted drastically. It’s not bland, just... underwhelming.”

“I see...” Dimitri cast a nervous glance at the row of spices. “I’m assuming these are the seasonings used to flavor the dish?”

“That is correct!” Piped Ashe from the oven.

“Let’s see here...” His hands danced over the vessels of flavor hesitantly. A bottle of fine, onyx-colored powder caught his eye and he checked the label-- black pepper. He popped open the cap and tapped a careful amount in. Ingrid stirred the pot and poured some more soup in her bowl.

“Mm, that added some much-needed flavor. Try salt this time.”

Dimitri gingerly set the pepper down and scoured the row of spices for the condiment. After he found the small bottle tucked away in the back, he unscrewed the lid and sprinkled in some salt.

“Add more. I can barely taste a difference.” Ingrid critiqued.

Dimitri did as he was told and sprinkled in some more, unsure of the intensity of the granulated whites.

“More, Your Highness. You can be a bit liberal with the salt here.”

“Got it.” Dimitri tilted the bottle and gently tapped its side.

Only for half of the bottle’s contents to fall in.

Dimitri blankly stared at the visible pile of salt floating on the surface of the soup, slowly disintegrating as it drifted further and further down to the bottom of the pot.

Then he was tossed into the five stages of grief all at once-- Ingrid riding that emotionally tumultuous ride with him.

“Your Highness!”

“Ashe!”

“W-What?! What happened?!”

“The salt!” The blondes screamed in terror.

“S-Salt?! What do you--” Then he saw the bottle of salt, previously filled to the brim, staring back at him half-empty. Without a moment to lose, he broke through the two and beelined for the pot. He seized the ladle, scooped up its murky contents, and gave it a large swig.

His eyes shot open in horror and his face paled several sheets of white. He dropped the ladle, wetting the surrounding area with the toxic liquid, and stumbled back onto the counter. Gripping his pants until his knuckles turned as pasty as his cheeks, he forced down the soup with a gag.

“Water...” He flung himself onto the mortified prince, his eyes tearing up. “Water...!!!”

“I got you, Ashe!” Ingrid came swooping in with a cup of the aqua panacea; the archer snagged the cup from Ingrid and chugged it all, not letting a single drop go to waste.

“What happened?” Dedue finally arrived, his head absolutely spinning from the pandemonium that ensued from across the kitchen. Mercedes came running as well, almost dropping the tray of freshly baked desserts from her hands.

“W-Well, His Highness--”

“It’s all my fault,” Dimitri stepped forward, head hung low, “I was only trying to add a little bit more salt, but then I ended up pouring half the bottle. Then Ashe went to taste it, and, well...”

All eyes went to Ashe, who was still recovering from that whole... experience.

“It,” he sputtered,”it tastes like sea water.”

“Ashe, I am so, so sorry. Is there any way I can make this up to you?”

“Get out of my kitchen I-It’s all right, Your Highness... But um... I really don’t think we can serve this to (F/N). It tastes... unpleasant. Very unpleasant.”

“I understand...” Dimitri sighed, forlornly looking at the pot of failure. “Curses! I’m sure (F/N) would have loved it, if only I--”

“Your Highness. There is no need to linger on what has come to pass. We can still cook up a wonderful meal.” Dedue’s even voice steadied the prince. “We do not have much time left. Let us make haste.”

It was all hands on-deck from thereon. While Ashe was temporarily out of commission, the rest of the Lions present did everything in their power to compensate for lost time and dish. As Dimitri busied himself with dicing and rinsing vegetables for a simple salad, everyone else was bouncing around ideas that could possibly substitute the soup.

“I was in town the other day, and I heard one of the merchants talk about this pastry called ‘garlic bread.’“ Annette remarked.

“‘Garlic bread?’“ The Duscur man repeated questioningly.

“Yeah! From what I remember it sounds very easy to make, and we seem to have all the ingredients.”

“And those are?”

“Hmm... Adrestian Butter, bread, powdered Gautier Cheese, powdered garlic, and dried parsley.”

As Annette recounted the recipe to the best of her abilities, Ashe wobbled back to the kitchen with a few of Mercedes’ samples popped in his mouth.

“If you need an extra hand, I’d be happy to help!” He turned to the healer. “And Mercedes, these taste absolutely delightful! Eating them makes me feel all re-energized.”

“I’m always happy to help!” She smiled sweetly, dunking and scrubbing away the dirt on some pots and pans. Dimitri’s eyes widened.

“Ashe, are you certain you’re okay? I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard...”

“I’ll be fine, Your Highness! And besides, Mercedes’ sweets completely washed away the taste of your soup! ... Er, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“... And then we just pop them in the oven, and wait until the edges turn brown.”

“How convenient.” Dedue’s mouth turned up slightly. “I’m sure (F/N) and His Highness will like these.”

“They look quite scrumptious in there...” Ingrid licked her lips greedily. “Hopefully they don’t take too long... Hey, has anyone seen Sylvain? Last I heard he was on guard duty, but he could have run off with some girl at any time.”

“I’m still here,” called a voice from outside, “Ingrid, your lack of faith in me stings! Do you really think I’d be that calloused towards His Highness’s cause?”

“Yes.” Ingrid answered plainly.

“Yowch. That hurt.” Sylvain grimaced. “By the way Your Highness, we--”

. . .

“Sylvain?”

“You guys!” Sylvain came tumbling in, hysteria marring his smug features. “They’re coming!”

An unintelligible gurgle of surprise left the Lions’ throats and they drove to plate and add last minute details to their dishes. Dedue whipped out the duck and Ingrid the garlic bread, followed by a whole parade line of baked treats brought out by Annette and Ashe. Poor Mercedes, finishing up the last spoon in the sudsy basin, was suddenly bombarded with every plate, bowl, utensil, and pan in the kitchen-- not to mention The Pot of Poison. Dimitri set the wooden bowl that carried his salad on the table and he was instantly teleported away to a secluded section outside the dining hall. Sylvain carefully pulled out Dimitri’s finely decorated suit from under a brush, swatting away the little pebbles and specks of dirt that happened upon the fabric.

“It’s a good thing I kept the suit here. Imagine us running back to your quarters to change.”

“Thank you for thinking ahead, Sylvain.” Dimitri’s eyes flitted about him nervously. “I feel rather embarrassed changing out here in the open though...”

“We’re running out of time, Your Highness! Don’t worry, I’ll, uh, cover you.”

Dimitri shot him a grateful look and threw off his cape, which Sylvain caught and held up in a weak attempt to cover his friend. Dimitri chucked off his gloves and shimmied out of his boots; he then lifted the hem of his shirt past his neck and made quick work of his pants, shuffling and kicking the fabric away from him.

“Oh Goddess, they’re coming down this way! Quick, hide!”

“What?! Where?!”

“Uhh...!!!” Dimitri and Sylvain looked to and fro, their heart rate and cortisol levels reaching new heights. Behind the tree? No, the tree is hardly thick enough to cover the prince. The brush? Nah, it’s too small for a full grown man. No, no, he can’t run to the other side of the building, everyone will see his... parts. Sylvain pushed the bewildered Dimitri onto his knees, threw the tarp over him, and sat squarely on his back.

“Sylvain--?!”

“Hey hey hey, Fel and (Your Nickname)! Sooo, how was training?”

“Ah, well, y’know,” you answered back weakly, “tough.”

“Ah-hah! I see, I see!”

“Sylvain... What are you sitting on?” Felix’s eyes rested severely on the... quivering? quivering why was it quivering lump holding the male up. Sylvain looked down, then up, then down, then up, and chuckled nervously.

“Oh, y’know! It’s uh... It’s uh, a rock.”

“... A rock?”

“Yeah! Good ol’ rock here. Conveniently shaped too, y’know.” He patted something that felt a bit too round to just be Dimitri’s back; the two men quietly let out screams of the damned and Sylvain made a mental note to burn his hand off later.

“Huh... It does look quite comfy.” You mumbled, eyeing the spot where Sylvain just patted.

Please don’t sit here please don’t sit here please don’t sit here plea--

“Would you mind if I sat down for a bit?”

“Not at all.” Sylvain answered automatically, winking. It was in that moment that he truly regretted his playboy tendencies, and actually seriously considered change for a split second.  

“Great!” You skipped (more like limped) over to the silently screaming male(s). With a huff from you, Dimitri promptly felt something soft nestle into his rump; a portion of his soul disconnected from the mortal plane, never to be seen again.

“This... rock... feels kinda...” You shuffled in your ‘seat’ a bit. “soft.”

“A-A rock?! Soft?! Ha ha ha, don’t be silly, (F/N)!”

“And... This looks like Dimitri’s cape, does it not?”

“W-Why in the world would I have His Highness’s cape?”

“Well, that’s true... But, why would you put a piece of cloth on a rock like this?”

Sylvain just stopped working.

A good five seconds of silence ensued before the male finally found his tongue.

“Why wouldn’t you put a piece of cloth on a rock?”

“Well, if it’s an attempt to make the rock more comfortable, wouldn’t it make more sense to just... sit on the grass instead?”

“I mean, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean I can’t spread a blanket on a rock for my own personal comfort, right?”

The throbbing in your head only worsened as you tried to comprehend this man’s logic.

“Um... sure.” You stood up. “I’m gonna go freshen myself up a bit before I head to dinner. See you later, Sylvain.”

“Y-Yeah! Of course! Catch ya later!”

Sylvain waved you and the very confused Felix goodbye and eagerly watched you leave. After making sure that you two left and no one else was nearby, Sylvain slowly leaned over.

“Your Highness--”

Dimitri shot up like a man reborn, shocking the redhead off him and wheezing for air.

“I couldn’t... B-Breathe...”

“Sorry about that, Your Highness...” Sylvain accidentally made eye contact with The Hand and he immediately gagged. “Let’s not... talk about what happened here. Ever.”

“Agreed.”

Both men sighed deeply.

“Well, you heard her. She’s gonna freshen up a bit before she goes to dinner so there’s no rush now. ... Well, you’d still probably like to rush a bit, since you’re currently in your briefs.”

“Thanks, Sylvain.” Dimitri grumbled, slipping his achy legs into the high-quality fabric and buttoning up his shirt. He readjusted the crooked pins and small medals that adorned his breast and smoothed away any wrinkles.

“You’re lookin’ snazzy, Your Highness.” Sylvain chuckled. “Now we just gotta fix up your hair a bit.”

“My hair? It looks fine though, does it not?”

“Yeah, sure, it looks fine but that’s about it. C’mon, think about it! You wear the exact same hairstyle day in and day out. We gotta give it more of a ‘wow’ factor.” Sylvain’s brows furrowed deeply as he studied Dimitri’s face closely. “... Y’know, this might just work.”

“Huh? S-Sylvain, what are you--?”

“Trust me, Your Highness. (F/N)’s gonna love it!”

With a quick swipe of his hand, Sylvain flipped Dimitri’s bangs onto one side of his face. Sylvain took a step back and crossed his arms, satisfied.

“Woo, now that’s a prince!” Sylvain whistled.

“D-Do I really look... princely?”

“Always have, buddy.” Sylvain threw an arm around Dimitri’s shoulder. “But right now? The princeliest of princes.”

Dimitri’s eyes crinkled happily and he bowed deeply to his dear friend.

“I thank you, Sylvain. From the bottom of my heart... thank you.”

“H-Hey now.” Sylvain laughed, cheeks reddening. “No need for all that! I’m just doing what I can to help you with this. You deserve to be happy, Deems.”

Dimitri smiled in response and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Ready, Your Highness?”

“Ready.”

[firstumcschenectady]

“God's Table Extended” based on Jeremiah 31:31-34 and 1 Corinthians 11:17-34

Rabbi Rafi Spitzer of congregation Agudat Achim in Niskayuna, led an amazing workshop this week entitled “People of the Library: An Introduction to Talmudic Literature and the Mythic Transmission of Jewish Tradition for Clergy of Other Faiths.”  Schenectady Clergy Against Hate is a VERY cool organization, and I learned a lot.  

Rabbi Spitzer talked about the roots of modern Rabbinic Judaism as emerging in the period after the destruction of the 2nd Temple (70-200 CE).  This is the same period as the formation of most of the Christian texts.  Jesus lived earlier, of course, but most scholars date the earliest Gospel, the Gospel of Mark, to 70 CE because it mentions the destruction of the Temple.

That is, both Modern Judaism and Christianity-As-We-Know-It (as a separate faith tradition) emerged after, and in the response to Rome's destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple.  It was in making sense of this horrific disaster that new expressions of God's ways in the world emerged.

This is particularly interesting to me because the Hebrew Bible was written down in the aftermath of the destruction of Jerusalem and the First Temple in 587-586 BCE, when the Jewish leaders and scholars were sent into exile.  The stories, of course, were much older, but they were written down then, and that means that they were written down with the question “why did this happen to us?” at the forefront.

That is, the Hebrew Bible gets written down and tries to make sense of death, destruction, and disaster.  The majority of the “New Testament” gets written down and tries to make sense of death, destruction, and disaster, AND concurrently the Jewish Mishnah gets written down and tries to make sense of death, destruction, and disaster.  

It seems to indicate our faith traditions are deeply rooted in trying to make sense of death, destruction, and disaster, or that God is up to new things when prior systems are destroyed, or that in trying to preserve what used to be we end up making new things possible, or that God can bring good even out of bad, or maybe all of the above.

In any case, I think it is interesting, and worth continuing to ponder. Especially now, when we have experienced death, destruction, and disaster, and are wondering what we and God will be up to next.

Our Hebrew Bible Lesson today from Jeremiah speaks lovingly of the “new covenant” between God and the people.  This is such a foundational idea in Christianity that we may not know that this passage is the ONLY time such an idea emerges in the Hebrew Bible.  

“Foundational,” you say, “why?”  Think of the words “old testament” and “new testament” and remember that testament is a synonymous with covenant here.  This is how some people made sense of the whole Christian tradition.  That said, there are far too many who take these words to mean that the Hebrew Bible is old, or outdated, or replaced, and that is problematic.  We intentionally use the words “Hebrew Bible” to recognize our shared biblical tradition.

Anyway, back to Jeremiah.  Jeremiah is a prophet of the exile, and  for much of the book Jeremiah warns of the dangers of the impending exile. However, once the exile happens, Jeremiah's tone changes, and he turns to comfort and hope.  This passage is part of that, promising a return to God's promises and relationships.  The promise is particularly full, as it speaks to both the northern and southern kingdoms, the wholeness of Ancient Israel.  It is also full in that the new covenant will not be dependent on the people's faithfulness. God will take care of it.

“I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.  No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, "Know the LORD," for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the LORD; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.” (Jeremiah 31:33b-34, NRSV)

It is a lovely vision, in some ways the ultimate comfort: a relationship with God one can't mess up.

The Christian church has claimed this covenant as their own.  Take these words from our communion liturgy, “By the baptism of his suffering, death, and resurrection you gave birth to your church, delivered us from slavery to sin and death, and made with us a new covenant by water and the Spirit.” (UM Hymnal, page 9).  

I have some deeply mixed feelings about this claim.  On the one hand, it fits with my assumption that our status as beloveds of God is based on the nature of God (grace) and not on our performance.  On the other hand, it seems rather profoundly to miss out on the idea that God wants us to take care of each other, and that our actions matter in the building of the kindom.

Or maybe I'm exaggerating.  After all, Jeremiah's idea isn't that the people ignore God's wishes.  Rather it is that they know God and God's grace so well that it is inherent in them and they live it out naturally.  (I have mixed feelings about this too – in that it is lovely, but simply not true of Christians I know.)

In 1 Corinthians we read the first historical record of communion.  Paul had planted the church in Corinth but had been away for a few years. In the first century CE the communion meal was a full common meal (think potluck) during which the last supper was remembered. Apparently in the time after Paul left things had gone off kilter a bit.  According to Marcus Borg:

the wealthy (who didn't have to work) would gather early for the meal. By the time the people who worked (most of the community) got to the meal, the wealthy had already eaten and some were tipsy.  They may also have served the best food and the best wine to themselves before the others arrived.  Such was common among the wealthy of the world. For Paul this violated the 'one body' understanding of the body of Christ.  It meant bringing hierarchical distinctions of 'this world' into the body of Christ.1

Borg goes on to explain the later threat to those who eat and drink and an “unworthy manner”.  “In this context, eating and drinking the bread and wine 'in an unworthy manner' refers to the behavior of the wealthy in perpetuating the divisions of 'this world.' In Christian communities, these divisions were abolished.”2

How quickly the early church struggled with the equality and equity of God's kindom!  How hard it is to let go of hierarchy and let love for all be the way decisions are made.  How familiar that is.  Those of us who are white have been trained in mostly subconscious ways that we are at the top of a hierarchy, and when left to our own devices we will re-create systems that put our needs at the top while telling ourselves it is OK.  Like the wealthy Corinthians might have said, “We told them it started at 4, but they don't make it until 5:20. Why should we have to wait when we TOLD THEM what time it started?” Or when a white person takes their own shame, guilt, anger, or aggression as a reason to violate, harm, or kill  people of color. Or even in the tiny little micro-aggressions of every day, related to who gets heard, who gets believed, who is expected to be soothing, who is expected to sooth, and whose pain matters.

It took Paul saying, “don't violate God's table like that” for it to be heard.  But I'm guessing that the reason he knew it was happening was because the impoverished members of the community had been saying so for quite some time, and finally tried a new way of getting their needs heard.  I am hearing from Asian and Asian American friends and colleagues that violence against Asians and Asian Americans has been a regular part of their lives in the United States all along, and has been FAR worse for the past year +.  I am also hearing exhaustion and horror that a white man used his own shame as motivation for mass murder, mostly of Asian women.  

And let me say, because it MUST BE SAID, that a person doing sex work does not IN ANY WAY change their human value, nor make it permissible to harm that person.  Indeed, most people who support themselves with sex work are people who exist in the most vulnerable positions of our society, and as such are worthy of the most care and support to counterbalance the harm they've lived.

The Children and Youth of the Church have been working this Lent to support a Lenten project to respond to hunger. They have invited us to collect one canned good or  nonperishables a week to donate to the SICM food pantry.  We are invited to bring those gifts this coming Saturday (March 27 for those watching this NOT on Sunday) at the flower sale.  Those tangible gifts serve as a reminder of other people's tangible needs.  It is also possible to make a donation to SICM through our website or by check, knowing that SICM can buy food at the Regional Food Bank at a very discounted rate.

That is to say, that as we prepare God's Communion Table for ourselves today, given Paul's admonitions, it might be a good time to be sure that as we receive God's gifts of grace, life, and hope, we extend the table as we are able.  Or, perhaps this is  time for gifts to Patty's place.  Patty's Place is an outreach-based service for women at-risk, exploited, or involved in sex work. They provide immediate resources and long-term referrals.

I'm less than sure we're embodying Jeremiah's new covenant, but I am entirely sure that the part that says that God is with us, in our hearts, and claiming us as beloveds is true.  And I'm sure that we have wonderful ways to respond to God's love – with love, even, ESPECIALLY in the midst of disaster.  Let's do it!  Amen

1Marcus J Borg,  59 Evolution of the Word: The New Testament in the Order the Books Were Written (United States of America: HarperOne, 2012), 59.

2Ibid.

Rev. Sara E. Baron First United Methodist Church of Schenectady 603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305 Pronouns: she/her/hers http://fumcschenectady.org/ https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

March 21, 20201

[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 13: Dressed-Up Figures and Undressed Souls

(Click here for chapter 12!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

The remainder of the month went by in a breeze, and looking back, the Potions professor realised that it had been the happiest time of his life.

Severus still felt uneasy about his feelings towards Granger, of course; so much so that he even promised it to himself to never act on them. Quickly backpaddling on the thought that the two of them could become friends – after all, a teacher and a student becoming too close would always be weird, no matter the circumstances – he instead decided to quietly admire his beloved from afar. In a bid to distance himself from her and her enticing charms, he restricted their private lessons to the two mandatory sessions a week and made sure to drop a snide remark here and there – though they somehow never seemed as harsh anymore. It did not help, however, that the young woman seemed unfazed by all of that; she would still always show up to their meetings beaming at the Potions Master’s face.

So at the end of the day, he still could not help but experience almost juvenile-like euphoria. She liked him, too! Granted, she was not in love with him or anything, but indeed just the fact that his new object of affection liked him on a platonic level made Severus feel all kinds of ways. As a result, his behaviour seemed to change. Although he tried his best to behave like his normal mean self, he would sometimes suddenly find himself softly humming as he made his way through the castle’s countless corridors, and every once in a while, he would even accidentally chuckle at some of his colleagues’ lousy attempts at jokes over dinner. He also caught himself daydreaming about the Gryffindor more frequently, but he did not mind it that much anymore. Instead, he chose to quietly enjoy all of these new-found emotions.

As for Granger, well, she was back to her bubbly, know-it-all self. She had quickly begun to show up for class on time again, handing in excellent essays and fiercely waving her hand around trying to be “the chosen one” who got to answer questions. That behaviour also extended to their apprenticeship lessons, with her bombarding her tutor with countless questions about this and that, attempting to extract every single bit of knowledge, howsoever small, from the talented wizard’s mind. Severus could not help but be a tad bit amused by her eagerness to learn. He was still trying to maintain his reputation as the snarky, greasy-haired git of the dungeons, of course; so on the rare occasions when he actually answered one of her questions, he would do so in his typical scoffing fashion. In reality, however, he was delighted by their relatively one-sided conversations. He was utterly fascinated by the way her mind appeared to work as well as the huge range of topics in which she took an interest. After years of unsuccessfully searching for a suitable conversational partner with which to have intellectually stimulating discussions, he had finally found one – and in a member of the Golden Trio at that!

A few weeks ago, they had even taught their first class together. Severus had to admit that he had been sceptical at first about that part of the apprenticeship programme; however, Granger had done surprisingly well. Having come in prepared with a perfectly outlined lesson plan, she had no trouble properly instructing a group of second-years on how to brew the Fire Protection Potion. A nice and helpful teacher, her presence had seemed to make the pupils breathe a little easier in what is otherwise a rather strict class; some had even managed to create potions that were noticeably better than any others they’d handed in before. Though this of course did not mean that Severus planned on making any permanent changes to his personal style of teaching. The reason behind his sternness was completely logical: Unruliness had absolutely no place in his classroom, as safety always came first in a potions lab!

On one particular Thursday – the day before Halloween to be exact – the Head of Slytherin found himself in the dimly lit Potions classroom, brewing yet another one of Madam Pomfrey’s last-minute orders; unfortunately, the matron had apparently not taken to heart his elaborate lecture about ordering often-needed potions well in advance. Working side by side with his apprentice, they were preparing a batch of Antidote to Common Poisons and a few phials of Laxative Potion respectively.

Just as Severus was rummaging through his storage room in the search for some lavender essence, he heard his student speak up.

“While everyone knows that the headmaster is a – for the lack of a better word – special character, I must say that I’m still a bit dumfounded by this announcement,” her melodic voice resonated from the ancient stone walls. “Having spent the better part of my childhood in the Muggle world, I am obviously familiar with the practice. But all those scary things, those creatures that Muggles dress up as – most of them actually exist in the wizarding world! So why should we magic folk put on costumes like that? I just find it quite bizarre and …”

Finally having found the little ampoule for which he had been searching, Severus returned to his workstation as Granger continued to ramble on and on. He obviously knew what she was talking about. Just this morning at breakfast, Dumbledore had suddenly announced that this year’s Hallowe’en Feast would come with a little twist: It would be a fancy-dress party Muggle style, and everyone attending was expected to show up wearing a costume. Snape groaned at the mere thought of it. This year, the old man was just implementing one silly rule after another. Sometimes, the half-blood believed that the headmaster came up with all of his crazy antics with the sole purpose of annoying his younger colleague.

“Anyway,” the witch said, at last concluding her babbling. “What are you going as?”

Severus, who was in the process of measuring out the correct amount of Honeywater for his potion, stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the young woman with a stone-cold expression.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked snappishly.

His protégée’s hazel eyes turned big. “Oh, um, I’m talking about the Hallowe’en Feast, sir,” she stuttered rather sheepishly. “I was just wondering what your costume will be.”

“Costume? Miss Granger, am I really to believe that you would be stupid enough to assume that I, Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin, would take part in such a ridiculous display of foolishness?!”

He could practically see her confidence crumble before his very eyes, and he would have lied if he said that that did not make him feel a tiny bit bad. After hectically searching for something to say for a few moments, she dropped her gaze.

“Of course not,” she then mumbled. “My apologies …”

Granger quickly turned her attention back to her project, and so Snape did the same, trying hard to ignore that slight sting he felt in his chest.

For a while, they worked in silence. Once he finished his potion, Severus began looking for the little piece of parchment paper on which Poppy had written her order, wanting to double check if he had prepared the correct amount. Following a minute-long search, he finally found it on Granger’s side of the desk. When he went to pick it up, however, he noticed a strange, scarlet red dot on it.

Confused, he turned to face his apprentice, intending to ask her about it, when he noticed what appeared to be a fair amount of blood smeared all across the girl’s chin and lips. While he had long ago taken note of her tendency to subconsciously bite her lips whenever she was anxious or scared, he had never seen it get so bad to the point that she would make herself bleed like that. Severus could not help but feel guilty about this; it had to have been his unkind reply which had caused it.

“Miss Granger,” he muttered softly. When she looked up in surprise, he handed her the white handkerchief he always carried in the left pocket of his cloak. “You are bleeding.”

He watched as she hastily brought up her right hand to her face and then stared in disbelief at the shiny red liquid which now covered her fingertips.

Not giving her a chance to speak, he said, “When I was just a mere child growing up in Muggle England, Halloween was not yet what it is today. It did exist, yes, but the act of dressing up and having little get-togethers was not as wide-spread yet.”

Walking past her to the table, Snape picked up a small, clean blade and started cutting a few sprouts of Agrimonia into small pieces.

“However, I do distinctly recall one time when the town I was living in announced that it would host a celebration in the community centre, complete with costumes and all kinds of entertaining activities. Rather untypical for that dirty hellhole, really …” He sighed. “So I spent the whole day getting ready, gathering supplies for my costume from all around the house and borrowing some of my mother’s makeup. After hours of work, I had finally finished creating my ensemble and was about to leave, excited for the hours of fun to come, when my father came home from a day at the bar.”

He looked up, meeting the gaze of his student. Her expression had confusion written all over it.

“My father was not a kind man, Miss Granger. I am afraid that I take after him quite a lot when it comes to having anger issues.” His lips formed a thin line. “He was especially not fond of anything magical. He despised my mother and I for our abilities, calling us freaks, monstrosities. When he saw that I was dressed up as a wizard, he lost it. He tore apart my carefully crafted costume before my very eyes, and that night, I received the worst beating of my life as my mother just passively watched. It was so bad that I was not able to go to school for two weeks afterward.”

Granger gasped in shock. “That’s terrible! I –, I … I am so sorry, sir.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and Severus thought that he could see tears forming in her eyes.

He waved off her concern with a simple gesture of the hand. “That was a long time ago, Miss Granger,” he said seemingly nonchalantly, but his trembling hands gave him away as he added the shredded plant to the cauldron in front of him.

“However, I do feel like it is understandable that ever since that day, I have taken a dislike to this particular festivity.” Of course, that was only half of it – but he did not think it appropriate to disclose the trauma connected to the murder of his childhood love. “And while being one of the teachers at this school has made me feel compelled to take part in the yearly feast thus far, I have decided to allow myself to refrain from participating this time.”

What followed was silence. While the seventh-year was evidently at a loss for words, Snape continued to diligently prepare the green-coloured potion. He knew that he probably should not have shared such private information with her. But for some reason, it was just so easy to open up to her, to share his painful memories with her.

It was only after he had finished the magical concoction and went to grab a box of crystalline phials for bottling that Granger said, “It’s certainly not my place to speak of your awful experiences or offer any solutions, sir. But perhaps tomorrow is your one chance to regain the experience you were so wrongfully robbed of.”

Not knowing what to answer, Severus remained quiet.

*************** *************** ***************

Even though it was now her seventh time experiencing the event, Hermione still could not help but be amazed as she entered the Great Hall.

Like every year, the huge room had been decorated in great detail for the Hallowe’en Feast. A few dozen black cauldrons stuffed with gigantic lollipops as well as large pumpkins, some filled with candy and others with candles, were distributed throughout the hall. Looking up at the Enchanted Ceiling, she could see the dark night sky with seemingly endless stars sparkling in the distance. Flying in and out of low-hanging black clouds, both live bats as well as flaming orange streamers were swooping over the long tables which were filled with sheer massive amounts of food and drinks: devilled eggs and butternut squash soup, candy apples and carrot cake, butterbeer and gillywater, roasted turkey legs and fish pie. There was even an apple bobbing station in one corner.

However, the one thing which stood out the most was admittedly the people’s attire. Students and staff alike were dressed in various costumes, some magical and some obviously Muggle-made. In a sea of creepy clowns and heavily made-up princesses, Hermione was able to spot Lavender Brown standing in a secluded nock, dressed as a gigantic pink and baby blue cupcake, flirting with a sixth-year Hufflepuff boy wearing a cheap one-piece skeleton suit. Sitting at the edge of the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy could be seen in an exquisite Victorian-era gown, appearing to be disgusted with the way his two friends Crabbe and Goyle, who were dressed as a mummy and a pirate respectively, were stuffing their faces with black pudding, roasted potatoes and mince pie.

Making her way to the Gryffindor table, Hermione made sure to say hello to Luna Lovegood as she walked past her. The eccentric witch was wearing an unidentifiable mixture of different patterned scraps of cloths paired with a wide array of flashy accessories, which was probably meant to represent some strange creature of which no one but her had ever heard. After fighting her way through the sizeable crowd, the Head Girl then finally reached her friends.

“Bloody hell, Hermione!” Ron exclaimed, waving his fork, and the piece of Beef Wellington impaled on it, at her. He was dressed in an Auror uniform. “You look smokin’ hot! You’re a sexy kitten or what?”

He flashed her a crooked smile, but she merely cringed at his lousy and rather vulgar attempt at flirting – it seemed as though he still had not got the memo that she just was not interested in him that way.

But it was in fact true that she was dressed as a cat. After taking the longest time deciding on a costume, Hermione had spent the better part of her afternoon getting ready for the feast. Throwing her outfit together from scratch, she had put on a tight-fitting, long-sleeved bodysuit and paired it with fishnet stockings and a pair of high-waisted faux leather shorts – all in black, of course. She had then used her magic skills to transfigure a pair of fuzzy socks into a headband with feline ears, followed by turning an old scarf into a tail. To top off her outfit, she had added a black lace-trimmed collar as well as high-heeled over-the-knee boots. Her makeup was kept simple, with only some basic pencil eyeliner strokes across her face to mimic a cat’s primary features, and as for her hair, well, she had just let it do its own wild thing. Granted, the outfit she was wearing was a lot more revealing than what Hermione would normally go for, but for some reason, she did not care that night. She thought that her look was fierce, and it made her feel powerful somehow.

Ignoring her pasty-skinned friend’s goggling eyes, she smiled at the couple seated next to him. Harry was dressed as a noble king, cheap plastic crown and all, and Ginny, who was sitting on his lap, was wearing a scarecrow costume. She greeted them, and they all chatted for a bit, but for some reason, something appeared a bit off with her best friend; the redhead seemed somewhat distracted. Not wanting to make a scene in front of everybody, Hermione made a mental note to ask her about it later. She was used to Harry being morose around this time of year, but seeing Ginny that unusually quiet set off red flags in her mind.

Turning her attention to the table filled with all kinds of tasty dishes, her mouth started to water. Before she helped herself to anything, however, she cast a glance at the High Table. A quick scan of the people seated at it later, she had to suppress her laughter. Sitting on the large golden chair in the middle, Professor Dumbledore instantly stood out in what was apparently a life-size replica of his favourite candy, sherbet lemon. Next to the headmaster, Professor McGonagall was sporting a kind of toned-down, more age-appropriate Snow White costume, which made her look surprisingly adorable. Professor Vector and Professor Babbling were both dressed up as Cleopatra, Madam Hooch had put on her favourite Quidditch team’s uniform, and Professor Sprout was – surprise, surprise – some sort of plant. A zombie Professor Flitwick could be seen conversing with Professor Sinistra, who was wearing a stripped burglar costume, and Hagrid was dressed in a painfully small Popeye costume. Professor Trelawney was a mouse, Professor Burbage resembled a gumdrop machine for some reason, and Lupin depicted a dog – that last one made her giggle yet again. The only one without a costume was Professor Binns, though that seemed obvious, given his ghost body.

Merely one person was missing: the Potions Master. Hermione could not help but feel a little bit disappointed. She had known that he probably would not show up, but she had still allowed herself to have some hope.

The young woman spent the next hour or so devouring Hogwarts’ finest foods while conversing and laughing with her housemates, almost forgetting about her tutor’s absence from the feast. Finally leaning back with a full stomach, she stuck her hands in the pockets of her shorts.

“What the –“

Stunned, she pulled out a tiny, folded piece of paper which had definitely not been there at the beginning of the night. Opening it under the table, out of view from her seatmates, she read the short note.

Entrance hall, now.

Hermione instantly knew whose meticulous handwriting that was. She had to give it to him, sneaking a message into the very clothing she was wearing without her noticing required skill, and she was definitely impressed. Excusing herself from the table under the pretence of having to use the bathroom, she quickly left the room through the tall double doors, forcing them apart just wide enough for her to slip through.

Once in the Front Hall, she glanced around but saw no one. Taking one more step into the room, she sharply jolted when she suddenly caught movement out of the corner of her eyes. She whipped around just in time to witness the Potions professor emerge from behind the Slytherin house point hourglass. Looking at his oval face, she could have sworn that she saw his eyes widen for a second as they wandered across her body.

“Professor Snape,” she said, a bit out of breath.

“Miss Granger, you are … a cat?” She could hear the clear disbelief in his voice, and for some reason, that made her snigger.

“Well yes, sir, it’s my costume!” She frowned as she eyed his attire. “But I can see that you stuck with your decision not to dress up.”

“That is not entirely true.”

Her eyebrows knitted in bemusement. “I don’t think I understand. You look the same as you always do.”

She could see him take a deep breath, almost as if he were psyching himself up, before he did something that she was sure no one had ever seen him do: He flashed her a big smile.

Hermione let out an audible gasp of astonishment. At first, she was too shocked to do anything but stare directly at him. Professor Snape’s smile seemed a bit unnatural and more or less forced, but she still had to admit that it made him look a lot younger and less stern. That in turn made something unfamiliar stir deep inside her, but she chose to ignore that for now.

It was only after a few moments that she noticed something odd about his teeth. His two upper incisors seemed a bit out of place. They were quite long, almost as if they were fangs. Combined with his long, dark robes, that kind of made him look like a –

“You’re dressed as a vampire!” she spat out, positively flabbergasted. When he gave an affirmative nod, she felt a rush of excitement travel through her entire body. He had actually done it! Severus Snape had dressed up at her suggestion!

Hermione knew that she was about to push her luck hard, but she was simply so overjoyed that she could not possibly control her emotions. With one big leap, she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around her teacher.

“Happy Halloween, Professor!” she rejoiced as she buried her face in the black fabric covering his broad chest.

*************** *************** ***************

He could feel the warmth radiating from her body which was tightly pressed against his. He could smell the fruity scent of her favourite shampoo coming from her voluminous locks as they tickled his beaked nose. He could hear her slightly accelerated breathing, his arms wrapped around her torso rising just a little at every breath. He could see a small birthmark, so tiny that it was almost invisible, situated at the nape of her neck. And for just a moment, he allowed himself to melt into her hug, his eyes closed shut.

Severus Snape was doomed, and he knew it. But in that exact moment, he did not care one bit.

(Click here for chapter 14!)

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Often Forgotten

A/N: Okay, I know we’ve been posting frequently lately, and all I can say is...don’t expect this every week? We happen to be inspired because we’re procrastinating our Big Bang project and screaming while doing it what? Ah, never mind. This story was primarily written by Mod Delta, and I (Mod Tim) was the one who wrote the ending. We hope you enjoy this, it took a lot of work last night to finish this!

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, Villain!Patton, Religious Metaphors, Toxic Purity

"Thomas doesn't need him! He doesn't need Deceit! He's not a part of Thomas that deserves to be here!"

The vehement tone of voice and the use of Deceit's name made him pause in his way to the kitchen to grab some tea. No matter what the other sides said, tea was far superior to coffee, and made him look more sophisticated to boot. And the others would never know this, but Deceit lived for coming off as sophisticated. However, all thoughts of tea left his head as he heard the hushed conversation.

Logan was the next to speak. "I know you don't like him, Patton, but--"

"But nothing!" Patton interjected. "He's only hurting Thomas! Not helping him!"

Deceit's hands balled into fists. How dare Patton suggest such a thing! He was the one who explained that Deceit was there to help with self-preservation in the videos! But that didn't mean that Patton approved of his methods, or his presence...he flattened himself against the wall and inched closer to hear better.

"Look, Pat, as much as I hate Deceit, he does have a purpose..." Virgil said. "We would be wrong to try and get rid of him. I hate the guy, but we do need him."

Ah, Virgil. Deceit didn't quite know what happened to cause Virgil to turn against him and the others, but Virgil wasn't going to tell. Virgil would rather die than admit that he hated being what Roman considered a "Dark Side" and that he wanted to be seen as good so desperately that he started appearing in Thomas' videos. And Deceit wasn't keen on torturing Virgil, so a secret that fact would remain.

Patton stood up and started to pace in his anger, sputtering. He turned in a circle around the light sides. "Don't you see?! He has you all believing that, but it's a lie! He doesn't need to be here! He has you all convinced, but I won't be fooled! He's not going to talk to Thomas ever again!"

Deceit forcibly relaxed his hands only when he realized they were shaking in their pent-up fury as fists. Who gave Patton the right to say that?! How did he know what was best for Thomas? Just because he represented Thomas' morality (or at least the moral high road), he thought that what he said was law. And he would not be deterred.

That was something Deceit knew he couldn't go up against. If he got into a fight against Patton, Deceit would lose and alienate what little trust he had built in the others. But he couldn't build more of a rapport if Patton was going to refuse to allow him into any of their conversations, or shared living spaces. Deceit's mind was racing as the silence in the Commons prolonged. He couldn't win in any situation his mind played out, so why even try? He spun on his heel and moved back to his room. He shut the door forcefully and locked it, before sitting on his bed and meditating. He needed to move his room to the subconscious. That way, he'd never have to deal with Patton or the others ever again. And they all won. Maybe Thomas would even be glad Deceit was gone.

As Deceit successfully moved his room into the subconscious, the other sides felt a certain shift in the atmosphere of the Mind Palace. It didn't feel strained, but it certainly wasn't more relaxed, either. There was a subtle shift that none of the others could place. It set all of them on edge, though, including Patton. But Patton resolved if Deceit was up to something, he would show his face soon enough.

Days passed. Logan thought it odd that he hadn't seen Deceit at all, and his tea bags hadn't been touched. Roman would walk past where his room used to be and scratch his head. He knew that there was a door there before, but he couldn't remember whose it was. Maybe it was Remus. The side was always moving his room around, just to mess with everyone.

Soon, though, Thomas had a moral dilemma and all the sides were summoned to the living room. Logan popped up, then Roman, then Patton. Virgil appeared and they all looked to Thomas, who was shifting uneasily. "So, you guys might have noticed that Cheryl, Aunt Patty's friend, isn't doing so well..." he said. "And Aunt Patty kind of wants me to send Cheryl some well wishes."

"But Cheryl is a homophobe, isn't she? She's the one who tried to set you up with a couple girls in college," Virgil said.

Thomas winced. "Yeah. I really don't want to deal with her again, but Aunt Patty only wants something as small as a card. Still, if Cheryl sees it, she'll take it as an invitation to try and 'help' me again."

"Ah, but it would not be optimal to explain this to Aunt Patty?" Logan said. "After all, Cheryl is her best friend, and she never suggested you date girls to Aunt Patty's face."

"Who says we have to tell Aunt Patty what her best friend did? Why can't we just send Cheryl a card and ignore her attempts to set us up again?" Patton proposed.

"Why deal with that at all when we could say that Cheryl didn't like us much and she wouldn't appreciate our card?" Roman proposed. Immediately after the words left his mouth, a piece of his cheek started to smoke and he bent over, yelping in pain.

Now, none of the sides had to deal with what happened when they proposed to lie before. Deceit would be the one influencing them to say it, and would field all the punishment that Thomas' mind gave to the proposed lie. But with Deceit disappeared into the subconscious, no one was there to take the hit for the other sides. Roman's skin burned like fire, and he clawed at his cheek desperately, before a small piece of skin fluttered to the ground, and a single scale took place on Roman's face. Everyone stared at him.

"Deceit...?" Logan asked, but his voice wasn't as sure as it usually was.

"What? No, it's me, guys, it's Roman! Why are you..." his voice trailed off as his fingers brushed against the scale. "Is that...? What I think it is?"

"Apparently so," Logan said, tweaking his glasses. "I have no idea how that developed, though."

Virgil's jaw was open wide, and he made a croaking noise. "I know...I know that...that Deceit used to...used to have scales form when he lied, years ago...but...but how would you be growing scales?"

"Perhaps it's from the suggestion that we lie?" Logan asked. "Although why this would appear on Roman and not Deceit puzzles me."

"Well, Roman was the one who suggested lying! That's probably why!" Patton exclaimed. "If you lie, or suggest you lie, you grow scales? Maybe that's what happens?"

"I mean I guess?" Roman said, scratching at the scale. "It's not coming off, and it hurts!"

"Stop scratching at it then," Logan said. "That will only make matters worse!"

Virgil was silent, and Thomas didn't fail to notice this. "You okay, Virgil?"

"I'm fine," Virgil said, before clamping a hand over his mouth, a muffled scream coming out before a scale appeared just below his lips.

The others watched with horror, realizing that they could no longer lie, even about their feelings, without scales growing all over them. Logan was trying to figure out how to navigate this, while Roman simply prayed no one would ask about his insecurities, and Patton watched impassively. Out of all their reactions, Patton's was the most alarming, because the emotive side just...did nothing. He stared with a neutral, calculating gaze, as if weighing the merits of the sides' very continued existence. As if he were deciding if they would help Thomas or not.

"Maybe...maybe I should tell Aunt Patty that I can't send a card right now because I've got a lot on my hands," Thomas said uncertainly. "That's...definitely not a lie."

"Do so," Logan advised. "And then we should figure out how to fix this."

Thomas nodded and the sides sunk out, back to the Commons. Patton still looked impassive, but internally he was glaring at the scales on his two friends. Why was this suddenly something that was happening? Where was Deceit in all of this? What was he hoping to achieve in making the others lie? Nothing good, Patton was sure, and he wanted to teach Deceit a lesson. Teach him that Thomas didn't need him, that lies were evil, that Thomas was a good person and good people didn't lie.

"Where's Deceit?" Roman asked. "I would have thought that he would be waiting here to gloat about whatever his evil scheme is."

Logan looked around and frowned. He was genuinely perturbed at the lack of Deceit. "He doesn't appear to be here. Perhaps he is in his room?"

Virgil shrugged. "We can check. Isn't his door right by yours, Patton?"

"Oh. Oh no," Roman said. "That was his room?"

"What do you mean 'was'?" Virgil asked, voice rising in panic.

"There was a door there, but it recently disappeared. I thought it was Remus messing around again," Roman said, worry coloring his voice.

"How recently did it disappear?" Logan pressed.

"I'm not sure. A couple of days?" Roman said.

"That's when the teabags stopped being used," Logan muttered. His eyes widened. "You don't think that he's trying to go dormant, do you?"

Virgil's eyes widened. "Like when I ducked out?! But...but wouldn't that mean that we couldn't lie?"

"Unless..." Roman chewed his lip. "Unless the lies we tell are replacing Deceit."

Patton's face showed brief rage before it became completely impassive and stony. "That can't be what's happening," he said with certainty. "No one here will be replacing Deceit."

Virgil worried his hands and said, "Patton, I don't think you get to decide this. Thomas' brain is going to do something if Deceit has gone dormant."

"Yeah? Well, it's not going to get a replacement! We're better off with Deceit gone!" Patton exclaimed. Smoke appeared on his forehead as skin peeled back revealing not one, but two scales.

Logan's brows furrowed. He was concerned that if Patton developed two scales when the others only developed one, that Patton was more susceptible to lies. But, he reasoned, Patton might have told two lies. That they were better off without Deceit and that the brain wouldn't get a replacement, so he kept quiet. After all, it would do no good to make everyone worry senselessly.

"I'm going to look and see if maybe Deceit just moved his room to worry us," Virgil said, quickly leaving the Commons.

"I'm going to see if these scales can come off," Roman said, retreating to his room.

Patton's face was still impassive. "Patton," Logan said softly. "Aren't you a tiny bit worried about what this means?"

"No," Patton said with certainty. "Deceit being gone is a good thing for us."

And the scariest part to Logan was that Patton believed that so whole-heartedly that not a single scale formed on his skin.

As days passed and Deceit still didn't show his face, everyone became increasingly worried. Well...almost everyone. Virgil was the most obvious about it, constantly looking around like Deceit might jump out of the shadows at any moment and lecture them on this was why they needed him, and they should be glad that he decided to return. But he never did.

Roman was next obvious. Whenever he suggested anything that resembled a lie, he would have a scale grow on his face. But being half of Thomas' imagination, there was a very fine line between fact and fiction for Roman. He would claw at the scales, try and get them to go away, but nothing worked. The scales he gained always stuck. He'd sometimes mutter that if only Deceit was here, this wouldn't be a problem.

Logan, while not outwardly worried, was quite possibly the most anxious of them all. For Deceit being gone meant the mind would try and compensate somehow. And all of them were gaining scales here and there--Virgil about his feelings, Roman about his ideas and insecurities, and Logan about his self-care habits, but Patton. Patton was gaining scales left and right.

It didn't even hurt Patton anymore when his human skin faded away to form another scale. He often was found snarling around the halls or in the Commons, his tongue bringing sharper words, and his eyes shooting menacing glares. Often, he would snap at the others that they were doing something wrong, or that he didn't want to talk to them, he didn't need help, that the others were being useless and was he the only one who could see the big picture here?!

Logan didn't dare bring it up with Patton, but he had been searching through the subconscious, trying to find where Deceit put his room. Maybe, if he could return, this would stop. Maybe Patton would lighten up, Virgil would calm down, and Roman would feel free to share his ideas again. He was never successful, but he held out hope. After all, with Patton getting harsher and harsher standards for all of them, something had to be done.

Things came to a head two months after Deceit had disappeared. Thomas was trying to figure out how to tell Terrence that he couldn't come visit, because he didn't have it in him to say goodbye to his friend again just yet, but he didn't want to say that to hurt Terrence's feelings.

Patton went ballistic. He said that lying would only lead them into danger, that Thomas would be a terrible person if he even told a half-truth, that he had to be completely honest. He could sugarcoat it, but only if that was by telling the truth. Logan had a smattering of scales across his forehead and around his left eye at that point, Virgil had quite a few around the nose and mouth, and the bottom left quarter of Roman's face was completely covered, but Patton had stopped forming new scales. It wasn't a matter of not hurting him, they just weren't showing up anymore.

Everyone in the room felt horror creep up their spine as Patton's left eye flashed golden and turned into that of a snake's, and his jawline bore the same shadows that Deceit's once had. Logan quickly sunk out of the room, dashing from the Commons to the subconscious, his only thoughts finding Deceit. Because if he didn't act fast, Patton was going to hurt Thomas, possibly permanently.

When Logan ran smack-dab into a wall, he nearly sobbed in relief when he opened the door attached to it and found Deceit. Or at least...he thought it was Deceit. His outfit was the same, with the same snake logo, but he was completely free of scales. He startled and looked over at Logan. "Logan, what--"

"No time!" Logan exclaimed. "Living room, now, Patton's hurting Thomas!"

That was all it took. The two sides sank out of the subconscious and shot up in the living room. Everyone turned to them in surprise. Even Patton stopped his tirade. Deceit stared at all of them in shock. Each of them had scales somewhere on their person, in clumps around specific areas, mostly, but he recognized the scales as his own. So that's where they had been disappearing to. He had wondered.

Deceit winced as he saw the state of Roman and Virgil. Logan had a few scales, but those two seemed to get quite a few from his left side, if he wasn't mistaken. Then he turned to Patton and gasped. Patton looked...like Deceit did, before. He was covered in scales, his left eye that of a snake, his left jaw no doubt having the ability to unhinge like Deceit's did before he had slowly gained his human features back.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is," Patton spat. "The other three have been worried about you, Deceit. They thought that you being gone was a bad thing. I disagree. You should have stayed dormant."

Deceit stood there, taking Patton in. He had scales not only covering his face, but going down his neck and all along his left arm and hand. He had no doubt the same was true for his leg. Patton had taken on what Deceit's duties had been. He became the one who lied, and it corrupted Patton completely. There was no way Deceit could save him, not if Patton didn't accept his help. And considering the way Patton was looking at him right now, Patton definitely wouldn't be accepting Deceit's help any time soon.

"Why did you come back? Huh? Did Logan bring you here? I ought to thank him for that. Really. It just proves to everyone what I've been saying all along. Deceit has no place at the table."

Deceit squared his shoulders, and stared down Patton. "No, it doesn't. But it appears that I am not the one who is lying right now, Patton."

Patton cackled, a truly evil sound that Deceit recognized from him doing it enough times when he had to instigate the others into considering his view, or get them to dismiss his ideas so he could nudge them in the right direction without them realizing he approved. "That's rich. I'm Morality, Deceit! What I say, goes!"

"You're not Morality," Deceit said with a thousand-yard stare. "Not anymore."

Patton took in a deep breath to yell, but Deceit grabbed his voice with a flick of his wrist. "That is quite enough, Purity. Your viewpoints are toxic, and damaging Thomas. No one is a perfect person, and as Morality you should have seen that the world isn't simply black and white. I helped Thomas in my own way by telling him to lie. What are you achieving when you yell and exclaim he's a terrible person, hm? You're simply hurting him! You're the embodiment of purity culture, not Morality. Not anymore. And since Purity cannot be attained, at least not in this life, it should not be what Thomas strides for. You're hurting him, Patton. You are no longer welcome here."

When Deceit let Patton speak again, he simply snarled, "You haven't seen the last of me. You'll see that I was right all along!" as he sunk out.

Deceit watched the spot where Patton stood with disdain. "No, I do believe that is the last time I allow you around Thomas," he said. "After all, I'm the other half of Morality. I control when the Dark Sides can and cannot show up."

"Deceit," Thomas breathed. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's so good to have you back."

Logan cleared his throat. "Actually, I believe that Deceit has become a misnomer," he said. "As he had stated, he is what remains of your morality. That means he sees the good, and the bad. His sole purpose is not to make you lie, Thomas, but to see both sides of the equation."

Deceit stared at Logan in surprise. The few scales that had been there before were fading away, and Roman and Virgil's skin was clearing as well.

"I believe Patton...Purity has stolen the last of the scales we had obtained," Logan said, feeling his skin. "Just as well. We couldn't gather scales every time we lied for the rest of our lives. And if he has accepted that he is no longer...no longer a Light Side, then he may be embracing what defines him now, including those scales."

"Purity is a toxic standard," Deceit said. "It's as slippery as a snake, and tempts you like the old story in Genesis, telling you you can be perfect, if only you can do this or that. But morality is not, and never has been, black and white."

"I'm glad you see that...Morality," Logan said.

Deceit blinked. He pointed at himself wordlessly.

"Yeah, you," Virgil said from the stairs. "You were always a form of Morality, and now we know you're fighting for us and with us, not against us. You earn the title."

"Often, we forget that the world isn't black and white," Roman said. "We often forget that living in the gray is good for us. That it means we don't have to hold ourselves to that pure, perfect standard."

"Go on, you can take Morality's spot," Thomas said, gesturing to where Patton once stood.

Deceit...Morality slowly walked across the room, taking off his hat and playing with the brim of it. "Is there something we can call you beyond Morality?" Logan asked. "It's all right if you don't wish to share..."

"No, it's okay," Morality said. "I had a name before, but I'm not so sure it fits me anymore."

"You can choose a new one, if that's what you wish," Logan said.

Roman grinned. "I, for one, would love to hear your new name."

They all waited with baited breath. Morality took a deep breath, flipped his hat in his hands and put it on his head with confidence. His shoulders were squared and his chin tilted upwards as he said, "You can call me Ethan."

"All right, Ethan," Thomas said with a grin. "It's nice to finally meet you properly. Do you think...Patton will ever recover?"

Ethan's confidence slipped. "I don't know," he said. "That sort of corruption is very hard to recover from, and near impossible if you don't accept help. Even if he accepted, the scales would return to me. I would still be Morality...Ethan, but if Patton were to return, and try to kick me out from the group again...I would push back, by any means necessary. And that might again start up the struggle that caused this to happen in the first place."

The room in the mood sobered up some. "Oh," Virgil said softly. "I'm...gonna miss him. Not who he became, but who he once was."

Logan and Roman murmured their agreement. Ethan bowed his head. "I shouldn't have tried to make myself dormant," he said. "Maybe this would never have happened."

"I think...this was doomed to happen one way or another, Ethan," Thomas said. "Purely by the way Patton acted around you. Don't think I didn't notice how he would fight with you in the Mind Palace whenever he could. Don't beat yourself up over it. You saved us. All of us. From him."

Ethan looked around, and everyone was smiling gratefully at him. Nervously, hesitantly, he started to smile back.

"All right, then," Thomas said. "Ethan, what do you think I should say to Terrence?"

Ethan considered. "Well, obviously being brutally honest would hurt his feelings, but I'm sure there's a way we can say this that wouldn't be a lie and spare us an awkward moment..."

Tag List: @loganpatton @lilbeanblr @kittyboof8 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @sanders-trash-4ever @hamilspntrash @swords-and-kittens @phantomfander @narniasfinestavengingsociopath @demonvirgil

[jovialyouthmusic]

The Many Lives of Drake Walker

A Royal Romance Multiple AU fanfic

3 Having a Ball

I visit the stables with Drake and accompany him to the Masked Ball

The next morning I smiled to myself as I remembered my odd dream. I went to work still smiling, still remembering – wow, the things that came up from my subconscious – it was amazing. I came home, started dinner, welcomed my partner home, and we ate together companionably. We fell back into our familiar pattern, chatting, watching TV – he had woken earlier than I and went to bed while I stayed up, watched one of the TV shows that he didn’t follow, then sat down with my laptop to write again. I got into a good rhythm, and shook my head remembering…

‘Hey Les, are you there?’ I nearly jumped out of my skin – was I having the same dream again? I remembered what I’d dreamed up – or agreed – the night before, and minimised my document. There he was again, dark hair flopping over his forehead, chocolate brown eyes – was I asleep again?

‘Uh – yes I guess so’ He smiled ruefully.

‘You’re thinking it was all a dream, aren’t you? It’s okay, that’s normal. It doesn’t matter really, as long as you remember me. Do you want to come with me again?’

‘I – well what have I got to lose?’ he looked hurt.

‘I thought we’d connected last time. If you don’t want to…’ I thought fast. No matter whether this was a dream or not, I didn’t want to hurt him – after all, I’d shared some intimate moments with him, real or imagined.

‘No, it’s fine, I just – I’d love to, what do I have to do – oh yes I remember’ He smiled gratefully and put his hand to the screen. ‘Wait a minute, how do I know if you’re the same Drake?’ I asked, and he sighed.

‘I’ll always be here for you, but you’ll have to take it on trust this time, and I can give you something to link ourselves together. I promise I’m the same – the same ME that came to you last time’ He gazed at me through the screen ‘If you don’t trust me, I’ll understand…’ My heart did a little skip, feeling ashamed of myself for being suspicious.

‘I’m sorry, I do trust you’ I put my hand to the screen and closed my eyes, feeling the pull and nausea again, opening my eyes to find myself by his side. He beamed with happiness and steadied me as I swayed slightly.

‘Good to see you again. How was your day, Les?’

‘Uh, not bad I guess, uneventful’

‘Well that’s good to hear. I’m so pleased you decided to come again. Let’s just sit quietly and you can adjust. The more often you come here, the shorter the recovery time. Come, let’s talk things over’ We were in a space much like I’d discovered the previous day, but it was smaller and there was nobody else there. As if he’d read my mind, he spoke.

‘This is kind of a sand box. It’s neutral space, but you can change it however you’d like – it’s practice for if you need to modify any of the fics we end up in – pause or exit any situation you’re not happy with.’

‘Oh okay, what do I do?’

‘Well, to start with, just imagine somewhere we could sit together – just something simple, a couch perhaps.’ I thought hard, and a couch appeared, just like one at my childhood home, soft and welcoming. He looked at it

‘That’s a good start. Let’s try it out.’ He sat, and patted the space next to him. I sat nervously, my heart beating a little faster. He smiled, angling his body toward me, elbow resting on the back of the seat and gazing at me with his dark brown eyes. ‘I know this is odd for you – you’ve been intimate with me in your mind, but think – you’ve created this version of me to be attracted to you, but I’ve only made love to your surrogate – to Lucy and to Charlotte. I’ve never been intimate with you personally’ I felt my eyes widen

‘I’d not thought of that. I – I don’t really know how to go about it. If we’re following the original story it will be a long slow burn.’ I looked down at my hands ‘I’m afraid I might not live up to your expectations, after all I’m not really much like the original Riley’ he reached out to me, placing his hand on my arm.

‘It’s fine, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Why don’t we – go out on a date? We can go anywhere, do anything you want’ I thought for a while

‘I know you don’t like dancing – but what about the masked ball?’

‘you can have anything you like, you can make me the best damn dancer in the world’ he grinned

‘That would be out of character though – and remember, I’m not sure myself. Why don’t we learn together? I have a great idea for that… How do I make things happen?’

‘Imagine where first’ Drake replied, and I thought about a the ballroom at the Palace and it shimmered into shape around us.

‘Hey not bad’ he said ‘You just need a bit more detail’ I concentrated, and the blanks filled in.

‘How do you want to dress?’ he asked ‘Don’t forget me’ Closing my eyes, I thought about what I wanted to wear, remembering an ivory lace adorned ballgown, and made it skim over my figure and flare out below the waist, and ‘thought’ him into a sharp dark blue suit before I opened my eyes. He whistled

‘Nice, and a snazzy suit. Can I have a rose as a buttonhole?’ I blinked, and it popped into existence, red and fresh, the petals soft. ‘You know this isn’t my style, but I’ll go along with it for you Les’

‘How long do these things last?’ I asked

‘As long as you’re here’ he replied ‘but you can ‘save’ them for another time or archive them, it just gets easier to conjure up after the first time. Now how about music?’ Getting the hang of things, I conjured up a chamber orchestra softly playing.

‘How do I get other characters here? I asked. He looked at me quirkily

‘Think of them, and they’ll appear’ I closed my eyes, and the door to the ballroom opened. I gasped.

‘Prince Liam’ I found myself curtsying in amazement.

‘How good to meet you’ he said smoothly, and bowed back. Drake pursed his lips.

‘You know the rules buddy, she’s mine’ he said firmly, and Liam nodded.

‘Of course, how could I possibly forget, my friend’ he replied, and I blushed a little.

‘He’s just here to teach me to dance – and you have a partner too’ Drake sucked his breath in anticipation, and the door opened again. He smiled in relief.

‘Lady Hana, you don’t get out much, it’s good to see you’ She smiled and stepped up to me, embracing me softly.

‘Nice to meet you, Lesley, thanks for thinking of me’

‘Do you think you can teach Drake to dance? I asked, and she frowned.

‘I think so’ she said ‘It may take some time though’ Drake sighed. Liam took my hand and my waist.

‘If you please my lady – follow my lead’ For the next half hour or so, Drake and I worked with our partners. Liam was pleasant and polite, and there was nothing of the strangeness about him that Drake warned of – but apparently that was because I had ‘imagined’ him into existence so his appearance was stable. He was attractive, and I felt drawn toward him, but I was only too aware of Drake working with Hana. I gathered he was finding it a little difficult as Liam and I became smoother and smoother. My mind must have wandered to the original story, because I suddenly found myself out on the balcony with Liam. He bowed

‘Lesley’ he said ‘at last, we’re alone’

‘I – my mind must have wandered’ I protested ‘I – I like you but I’m sorry, my heart was always with Drake.’ He drooped visibly, then straightened up.

‘I’m so sorry, I just had to make sure. We’d better get back to the dancefloor’ Drake was looking down at his feet when we swooped back through the curtains, but he looked up as we approached him. Liam grinned

‘She passed the test’ he said, and took me to Drake’s side ‘I think it’s about time you danced together.’ Drake smiled broadly

‘I hope the lesson stuck with me’ he said ‘Would you care to dance, Les?’ The ballroom started to fill up, and I conjured up masks for all. Drake was still recognisable by his smile.

‘Everyone will wonder who the mysterious newcomer is’ he said ‘I may have to protect you from unwanted attention’ We started off across the floor. We wouldn’t win any medals, I concluded, but we were doing okay – no treading on toes, no bumping into other dancers.

‘Well this is nice.’ He concluded, then craned his neck ‘Oh - over there – isn’t that…’

‘Riley’ I smiled ‘I don’t see why she shouldn’t be here. I’d quite like to meet her’ Drake made a face.

‘She can be a bit annoying when there’s nobody driving her – very indecisive’ I laughed

‘I’m sorry, maybe I’ll regret my decision, but it was worth a try. Look, there she goes with Liam, sneaking behind the curtains. Do you think you’ll be able to keep your eyes off her once she comes back in? You’re not brooding over at the bar, after all’ The woman in the red dress wearing a mask and devil’s horns had found her Prince – at least for now. Drake held me closer.

‘Nope, I’ve got my love interest, no reason for me to go mooning over anyone else. Forgive me if I’m being insensitive, but it’s a relief to have someone ordinary, not devastatingly beautiful and accomplished’ he explained. I huffed

‘Well thanks Mr Grumpy’ I replied ‘But I do know what you mean. When I played the game through the first time I didn’t buy the flashy clothes. And I always did prefer Jane Eyre and Mr Rochester’

‘Ooh’ He replied ‘The gruff and no quite so handsome Mr Rochester huh? I can do that’

‘Drake, you are perfect as first written – honourable and conflicted, grumpy but sensitive’ He leaned close to my ear, his voice sending delicious tingles down my spine, and I fumbled a step.

‘I apologise for being devastatingly handsome’ he breathed, and I chuckled

‘Careful now, you could always acquire a scar or a hunchback’ Drake flinched.

‘Not so funny – y’know one of my early companions decided she hated the other characters looking at me and did a hatchet job on my face’ I gasped

‘Oh I’m sorry, that can’t have been pleasant. Don’t worry, I love your face as it is’

‘I’m glad to hear you say so. Now, my feet are killing me. Can we go and prop up the bar and do some people watching?’

‘Oh, and I was beginning to like you holding me close’ I made an exaggerated pout. He growled, making my knees go weak and I had to hold on tighter.

‘I like it too you know, we could take this somewhere else.’

‘Woah there tiger, that’s a bit fast, let’s get to know each other a little better’ I replied, and he shrugged.

‘Okay, but I genuinely like you and there is definitely potential for more than liking. But I’m not in a hurry’

‘Okay – let’s go people watch, I expect you don’t often get to do what you want’ We started out to the bar, but on the way someone stopped us.

‘Why Drake, who is this enchanting creature you have on your arm? Another companion?’

‘Lay off Max, you have enough peacocks, she’s not going to magic up any more for you’ Drake said drily

‘Oh, now you’ve given my identity away, I wanted to be the mysterious young man who sweeps her off her feet with my incredible dancing skills’

‘Max, you’re wearing the squid tie, she’d have worked it out pretty quick’ The young man subsided.

‘You’re no fun Drake, but what’s new? So, what’s your name, potential House Beaumont benefactor?’

‘Lesley. Pleased to meet you, Max’ I shook his hand, and he drew me in for a hug.

‘Hugsies, not handshakes for my friends’ he grinned ‘So can I interest you in a dance, pretty lady?’

‘Thankyou, but I’m danced out for now. Maybe another time, I’m just a beginner and pretty much the same level as Drake.’ Maxwell leaned over and spoke softly in my ear.

‘Tell me Lesley, did you ever consider me as a love interest? I don’t get out to play much’ he asked.

‘Oh I’m sorry Max, Drake’s my man, always was – you’re a little young for me.’ He brightened up a bit.

‘Hey, you know a lot of writers have me with older women – maybe a little fling? Huh?’

‘Sorry Max, the answer’s still no. I have sons your age’ I said regretfully. He deflated a little.

‘Well okay, maybe you could write me a love interest?’

‘Perhaps. Now I’m going to the bar and do a little people watching.’ We hadn’t gone a few steps when we were stopped again.

‘Well well Walker, you appear to have found another admirer. It must be good to be so popular, how many is it now?’ I wasn’t entirely sure who it was, as not many folk had a faceclaim for Anton Severus – but Drake’s reply confirmed my suspicions.

‘Back off Anton, and don’t cause any trouble.’ Drake growled ‘She knows all about you’

‘Oh, but she writes me so well’ he took my hand and kissed it, looking deep into my eyes ‘I can tell she’s tempted by a bad boy like you and me, otherwise she’d be with Mr Too Good to be True Rys’ I collected myself quickly

‘There’s bad, and there’s bad’ I replied ‘Drake’s grumpy, not bad, and his heart is in the right place even if he finds it difficult to express his feelings. I’m not sure if you have a heart – or feelings’ Drake grinned widely

‘Oh she got you there Severus - BURN’ he laughed. Anton scowled and let go of my hand.

‘Fine, enjoy yourselves. Just watch your step, remember she’s not the only one who writes me into the story’

‘Better hope she doesn’t play one where you get executed or bumped off, buddy’ said Drake ‘Now excuse us, we have an appointment with a rather nice single malt. Coming, Les?’ he took my arm and we walked away to the bar. He leaned in to me as he sat and raised his finger to order two neat whiskies – the barman knew his preference.

‘You know, you could make him disappear if you wanted – or we could go somewhere else, good practice if we needed to get out of a situation fast.’

‘If I decide to – teleport out, for want of a better word – would you come with me by default, or would you get left behind?’

‘Oh!’ he said, raising a finger ‘I forgot – you need a token, and I’ll be able to follow wherever you go and it will let you know if it’s me – this particular Drake, or another.’ He rummaged in his jacket pocket, and drew out a chain – a silver chain.

‘Is this…?’ I asked , and he put it carefully into my hand

‘The chain with the cartridge from my first shooting session with my father. The one I gave Charlotte in Charlotte’s Choice’ he said quietly ‘It will appear every time you come here, it won’t exist on the other side of the screen. It will normally adjust to your body heat, but if any other Drake tried to pass himself off as me, or we lose each other, it will feel cold and very heavy. Plus only I know about it’

‘Thankyou’ I said, smiling. Whether or not Drake’s father had ever existed in a real sense, in this world, to Drake he had, and this was a very touching gesture. ‘I really appreciate it’ I hung it around my neck Drake turned back to the bar.

‘You could write in a decent whiskey you know, I don’t know how things taste on the other side of the screen, but I can tell the difference between a cheap blend and a single malt.’ I looked at the bottle behind the bar and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, it had been replaced, and Drake exclaimed.

‘Fuck, that changed mid mouthful. That’s a neat trick! Thanks Les’ He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I could smell the spirit on his breath along with a masculine musky smell, dark and peaty and smoky. I felt my cheeks redden and felt a tingle deep down in my core. He noticed my embarrassment, and grinned. He handed me my glass.

‘Cheers Les, here’s to a successful partnership.’ I took a sip of the whiskey – it was smooth and peaty, just the way I liked it.

‘Will I feel the effects when I go back?’ I asked curiously ‘How about a hangover?’

‘You can get as drunk as you like, or not let it affect you at all, and you won’t feel any symptoms when you get back. That’s what one of the previous – what someone else noticed.’

‘Oooh now that sounds good. Just a little buzz will do me nicely. I don’t like getting too drunk – but I’ve seen some pretty funny stuff featuring you drunk’ He made a face.

‘Please don’t do it – even though you don’t feel the effects of alcohol, I sure as hell do. There was one writer – well let’s say my virtual liver was happy when she had to stop writing because she had a baby to look after’

‘So’ I said, leaning on the bar and scanning the room ‘It’s not so easy people watching when everyone wears a mask. But it might make a fun guessing game.’ I pointed at a woman in a red dress and flowing auburn locks ‘No prizes for spotting Olivia – and that blonde sitting at the side taking notes must be Madeleine’

‘Yup, you’re one hundred percent right. See if you can spot Penelope and Kiara’

‘Oh my goodness – is that…’ I put my hands over my eyes ‘She’s actually wearing a poodle mask’ Drake chuckled.

‘Got it in one. Now Kiara – take a good look’ I scanned the room, and spotted a girl with caramel skin and glossy black hair, wearing an elaborate Venetian mask and a deep purple gown.

‘Oh, she’s very elegant – very chic’ I smiled. ‘I never really wrote a big role for her so she’ll not be the baddie that a lot of folk make her out to be’

‘Not unless you want her to be’

‘I think she was an easy option to be honest’ I said ‘But as you know, I poured all my evil energy into Anton.’ Drake grimaced

‘Bastard’ he said simply ‘I don’t know what you see in him’

‘He’s just a foil, something to drive the plot’ I replied ‘It would be boring if everything was sweetness and light. You have to fight a little to appreciate the prize, and making him handsome puts a little frisson into it’  He grunted

‘Huh, I suppose so. There’s something I’d really like to do before you have to go – can we go out onto the balcony? Make it moonlit?’ I smiled and closed my eyes to imagine it, and when I opened my eyes we were standing looking out over the moonlit gardens. I gasped

‘How could I have imagined this? It’s amazing’

‘There is a sort of residual memory that holds common places’ said Drake ‘If that makes sense.’

‘I suppose so. Now, what was it you wanted to do?’ Drake stepped closer

‘This’ he said quietly, and put his hand to my chin, gazing into my eyes. I caught my breath and closed my eyes as he closed in and kissed me softly. I felt myself melt into his waiting embrace. It felt wonderful, no awkwardness, no guilt – it just felt amazing. He drew back ‘How was that?’

‘I – it was perfect. Thankyou Drake’ I looked down at my hand to see it fading again like last time.

‘I enjoyed it too. Now go and make your partner realise what a wonderful person he has by his side. See you next time, Les’

 @ao719 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @sleepwalkingelite @boneandfur @blackcatkita @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicescommunity @darley1101 @drakewalkerrosenberg @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @goirishsunshine @gardeningourmet @livingthroughchoices @likethetailofacomet @mrs-nazario @mind-reader1 @ooo-barff-ooo @silviasutton1989 @speedyoperarascalparty @zaffrenotes @missevabean @mrsdrakewalkerblog @cora-nova @missameliep @tanelle83 @endlessly-searching-for-you @jlouise88 @drakenazario @tabithacarlisle @furiousherringoperatortoad @notoriouscs @classylady1234 @wickedgypsymoon @carabeth @choices-fangirl @indiana-jr @indiacater @noey718-blog @katedrakeohd @bobasheebaby @annekebbphotography  @kennaxval @sirbeepsalot @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @aworldoffandoms @iplaydrake @drakesensworld @drakewalkerisreal @samcpossum

[hufflly-puffs]

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Chapter 16: In the Hog’s Head

“He had given the matter a great deal of thought over the past fortnight. Sometimes it seemed an insane idea, just as it had on the night Hermione had proposed it, but at others, he had found himself thinking about the spells that had served him best in his various encounters with Dark creatures and Death Eaters – found himself, in fact, subconsciously planning lessons …” – Again, why has this boy not become a teacher?

“‘I meant the idea Ron and I had –’ Ron cast her an alarmed, threatening kind of look. She frowned at him, ‘– Oh, all right, the idea I had, then – about you teaching us.’ […]‘I thought it was a good idea from the start,’ said Ron, who seemed keener to join in this conversation now that he was sure Harry was not going to start shouting again.” – I think it is obvious which of the two will be the later the strict parent for their children. But it is the same as with Hermione telling Fred & George off, which she did without the support of Ron. She is the one addressing uncomfortable topics, the one who tells Harry off if she feels she has to, whereas Ron plays the role of the ever supportive friend. But I think a friend like Hermione, someone who is honest with you, who calls out bad behaviour, or brings you out of your comfort zone for your own good, is better than someone who just remains the fun friend. I mean I love Ron, and Ron and Harry’s friendship, and of course Ron gets more mature, but right here and now it is annoying to see him avoiding any kind of responsibility, both as prefect and as Harry’s friend.

“Harry had been looking forward to the weekend trip into Hogsmeade, but there was one thing worrying him. Sirius had maintained a stony silence since he had appeared in the fire at the beginning of September; Harry knew they had made him angry by saying they didn’t want him to come – but he still worried from time to time that Sirius might throw caution to the winds and turn up anyway.” – It is odd how Harry acts more like an adult here than Sirius. Sirius shouldn’t ignore Harry, which to Harry feels like a punishment, like he did something wrong, when in fact he is worried about his godfather. Sirius is acting reckless and impulsive and Harry is the one worried about him; their roles as child and parent are reversed.

“‘Don’t worry, Harry,’ Hermione said quietly. ‘You’ve got enough on your plate without Sirius, too.’“ – She is right, of course. It is not Harry’s job to take care of Sirius, it is the other way around.

“However, Hermione, who was taking more subjects than either of them, had not only finished all her homework but was also finding time to knit more elf clothes. Harry had to admit that she was getting better; it was now almost always possible to distinguish between the hats and the socks.” – Yeah. But also how does magical knitting work? You can bewitch the needles, but apparently not in a way to actually produce decent clothes? How?

Obviously Harry doesn’t even know all the names of the people coming to the first DA meeting. Like he really only hangs around Ron and Hermione, and with the exception of Luna he never makes any friends outside Gryffindor. It seems however that Hermione might be friends with some of the Hufflepuffs (she mentions she talked to Ernie and Hannah), and Ginny is friends with some Ravenclaws, including her boyfriend. Though nobody even considered to invite any Slytherins, not even assuming not all of them are the same, and that not all of them might support Voldemort.

So in total there are 28 members of the DA, which considering the number of students at Hogwarts, isn’t that much.

As a Hufflepuff I just want to distance myself from Zacharias Smith. We took him in out of pity.

“It had just dawned on him why there were so many people there. He thought Hermione should have seen this coming. Some of these people – maybe even most of them – had turned up in the hopes of hearing Harry’s story firsthand.” – I don’t think you can really blame anyone for this. It is like Hermione tried to explain to Harry, people had hardly time to understand what Dumbledore said before they went back home and the Daily Prophet and the Ministry painted Dumbledore and Harry as attention seeking liars. Of course they want to know the truth and to some extent they have a right to, because they know they do something illegal, they know that this isn’t just about learning spells, but about the war, about defending and risking your own life.

I wonder whatever happened with the list of the members of the DA? Did Hermione keep it? Did it land in some sort of museum? I’m positive that some time after the war books were written about it, about the Anti-Voldemort-movement, including the Order of course, but also the DA, and that the people who were in it are famous in their own right, because they had been part of an illegal student guerrilla group. I know that in my country, Germany, every little act of resistance against the Nazis is well documented, and I like the idea of something like this happening in the Wizarding World as well, all of these students becoming part of history.

“‘Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago. Not that she doesn’t like you, of course,’ she added kindly to Harry while she examined a long black and gold quill. […]‘So that’s why she talks now?’ he asked Hermione. ‘She never used to talk in front of me.’” – First of all Ron’s behaviour after learning his little sister has a boyfriend is just… super annoying and outdated. Second I love Ginny and Hermione’s friendship, because there is obviously stuff Hermione isn’t comfortable talking about with Ron and Harry, and Ginny, who is used to have so many men in her life, needs a girl-friend as well. But also, Harry would have never noticed Ginny if it wasn’t for her letting him go, living her own life, being her own person. I always loved this about their romance, how Ginny had to become her own person again in order for Harry to notice her, how she gave up on this idealistic idea of Harry, but started to see him for who he is (and isn’t afraid to tell him off), because it is what Harry needs and admires about her.

[sandflakedraws]

Hey so I've been considering checking out abot for a while now. But before I do, I wanna know what the draw is for you. What do you like so much about it ?

Strap yourself in, we’re about to go through one longass hell of a ride. Fair warning that this gushy love letter has a good chunk of spoils for canon mp100 and abot alike, so do with that what you will. (though i keep most of the spoils to the earlier chapters so i can leave some firsthand experience left)

ABoT has 5 main (not all) attractions for me, most of which are incredibly personal :1. nuanced, actually mature depiction of abuse2. lack of a ‘perfect savior’3. plotting cause+effect4. scene setting (okay this one is more a taste thing that i happen to really love)5. incredible writing all around

Part 1. Nuanced, actually mature depiction of abuse.

I was an abused and neglected child. As such, it’s very easy to see where some of the appeal of this type of fanfic would come from. Course, I’d encourage a looksie regardless because it’s written with respect to the subject matter, and because fics like these have great potential to expand on human understanding and empathy.

THAT SAID ! In order to talk about the depiction of abuse in abot, I first need to talk about the abuse in mp100 canon.

To be frank, I think phantomrose96 handles it better than mp100. Especially the execution and aftermath of said topic.

For comparison I’m going to use the Mogami arc (an arc i do like, perhaps less than the majority of fandom, tho this’ll likely shed a light on why)

The depiction of abuse between abot and canon have some similarities. In both cases, Mob is uprooted from his foundations of support, and the strain goes on for a lengthy amount of time. Canon!Mob’s experiences are 6 months long, and abot!Mob is 4 years. The differences start hereafter, though.

For starters, with canon!Mob, we learn about his torture mainly through his own POV, with Mogami making commentary. His firsthand experience is bolded and put at the forefront, and functions as the end note of the scenes which feature them. Mob is isolated, ostracized, and bullied. He is beat up at several points. One such instance sees him lose a tooth. His bullies torture a cat to death, smash a brick on his head, and stab him with an exacto knife.The ‘maturity’ of canon!Mob’s abuse comes firstly from the severity and cruelty of it. And secondly, for how it could drive him into using his psychic powers against people willingly. It highlights that one can be as shaped by their surroundings as by their choices.It’s dark, and it’s weighty.

However, the abuse in the arc is used a mechanic, and is glossed over once its primary use is over with. No abuse in this vein crops up after this arc.

The point of it’s presence is to raise the stakes, to showcase “this is fucked up” and then move on when the lesson is learned. We only get 2 peaks that Mob even remembers it. Once is with Mob acting quite fearful when Mogami shows up again, and the other when Mob goes to help a cat off a pole.

Still, the fact remains that it’s never mentioned for the rest of mp100. 

And thusly, Mob is presented with no means to process or deal with the trauma other than to, presumably, remain quiet about it. Or otherwise, for the reader to assume that the experience was relegated to subconsciousness. After all, we’re told expressly with Minori that the memory begins to fade as early as a day after. 

This stance can be detrimental to those who experience abuse, as it can imply that no help exists for the survivor to seek. That it’s better to simply forget about it, and move on without guidance.

Which, y’know, could work fine if it was ONE’s intention to showcase that some people don’t deal with trauma outright, keeping it hidden.

But there is a difference between “purposefully writing someone to seem unaffected when they really are” and “purposefully writing a macguffin to clear the way of an old arc to make room for a new one" 

I love ONE’s writing, I do, but it seems very clear to me that he was giving himself an out for having to write long reaching consequences of such a brutal arc going forward. Folks can get from the arc what they want, and that’s hella valid. I mean, shit, my trauma was never front and center either when I was Mob’s age. 

However, there’s a clear delineation between coincidence and intentionality. 

By having the abuse all happen in a dreamlike world, he gives himself an out. The characters are more or less able to skirt around the issue, or otherwise forget about it.ONE thereby dodges having to write further complications to the story he wants to tell.

Enter A Breach of Trust.

In Abot, the aftermath of being abused is a part of Mob’s day to day life, like actual trauma do. And here, the process of dealing and coping with said abuse is the main function of it’s appearance in the fanfic.

The four years Mob spends on his own are broadly covered in a punchy ~1k words at the beginning of chapter 4 (the fic is 133k words long, for comparison). They are to let you know the nature of Mob’s problems, without lingering unnecessarily on them, exploiting them, or making them voyeuristic. And in fact, Mob gets out of the Mogami house in chapter 8 (again, in a fic 24 chaps long).

The rest of the chapters where Mob makes an appearance are about addressing what he went through, and trying to help him. 

As opposed to mp100 canon, we learn a lot of information as to the nature of what mob experienced through Reigen. He often has sad or horrified responses, as one could expect to have in his shoes. But his response is not the end note of the scenes which feature them. Instead, it’s the actions he and Mob take, in equal turns, to bring about change which gets the end note.

I’ll use the milk scene in chapter 11 as an example.

Reigen learns a piece of information about Mob’s life, namely that he was denied milk:

“You have milk?”

“Uh…yeah. Not even expired. I bought it like two days ago.”

“But Shishou said…” Mob swallowed the words. His breathing picked up, eyes flickering across the single carton of milk in Reigen’s fridge. Slowly, his voice almost choked, Mob answered, “Yes, yes please…”

Reigen’s response:

He couldn’t fathom what sort of world the kid had just escaped, but he knew now he didn’t want to. And he didn’t want to make Mob relive it, not if it was something so horrific that a single glass of warm milk could move him to tears.

The end note of the scene (literally the last line):

“Here,” Reigen said, sliding his mug across the oaken table. “Have mine too…”

Abot, unlike a good chunk of media, seeks not to use traumatic experiences as a throwaway mechanic for a separate, main focus. Or as a stand in for faux character depth or grittiness. I’m lookin at you Kaneki Ken.  Or worse, as an inevitable reality. No.

The actual maturity of abot!Mob’s abuse, which I’ve been hootin about with the title card, comes from its application to Mob.

It will not be brushed off as a bad dream. It will not be relegated to subconscious, or forgotten. It is not a ‘shortcut to coolness’, or a ‘dark history’ to earn abot!mob some tragic backstory cred. Nor will it be “solved” with a single long talk, or hug, or even to just put Mob back in his house.

Abot seeks to offer a more layered, real world approach to it. That trauma, fictional or not, does not make you cooler. That it takes several, seemingly small steps to start on the path of recovery. And that there is no reaching your “before” status, but just changing the shape of your “after”.

For that matter! Mob also has agency of his own. It is not Reigen that springs Mob from the Mogami house, but rather Mob himself, taking matters into his own hands. 

There was no plan to it. Mob moved. He raced to the door and the inky world beyond. His feet collided with cold stone. Stone became grass, which sheared away before each footfall, leaving wet pulp and mud beneath his beating steps. The vastness of the open sky and the world stretching off in all directions, even after four years, could not overwhelm him more than the image of his dead Shishou scorched behind his eyelids.

Mob will fight on matters he considers important, calling the cops, for example.

Mob’s jaw moved, his wide eyes steeled over, harder now, resolve tight in his face. He looked up to Reigen. “I…wouldn’t like that, Mr. Reigen.”

He’ll voice his own opinion, draw his own conclusions, set his own goals.

His hands twisted in his lap, eyes dropping to them for a moment before they flickered up with new, burning resolve. “…If you could teach me…”

“Teach you?”

Mob nodded vigorously. “How you’re getting rid of it.”

And Mob is not relegated to cowering at all times either.  He’ll enjoy things he likes, build himself up, amongst other things.

The rain drenched him. Through the blues and pinks, water could pass. Water wasn’t living, so it wasn’t stopped, it wasn’t shredded. But it felt alive enough to Mob. It felt like something that wanted to reach him, and could.

Mob shut his eyes and smiled. Even if he couldn’t suppress the barrier now, that wasn’t reason enough to give up, not this time around. This time was different.

Rest assured that this journey is as much an active choice on Mob’s part, as it is Reigen’s. Reigen is simply a guide for Mob. And he’s meandering through his guidance half the time, which brings me to part deux.

Part 2. Lack of a perfect savior

I will be the first to admit that Reigen is hilariously flawed. Abot!Reigen likewise. And yes! This is another reason why I like Abot ^^

Preface in place before I talk about this, I am. a tough ass customer. We just had a whole previous section of analysis to illustrate that (which confession time, i cut that down by half), but to go more in depth - It is extremely easy to take me out of a story. And this is because, ironically, I love storytelling.

For better or worse, when I’m consuming media, I cannot turn off the storytelling part of my brain. Ergo, if I see something that can be improved, I’m launched back into a 4th person perspective, no longer engaging directly with the content. Sometimes it’s minor enough where I don’t mind any. But unfortunately, more often than not, it’s enough to get me to drop things when too many instances pile up. 

And as one of those Hoity Toity Connoisseurs of the hurt/comfort genre, the human version of the Messianic Archetype™ is both a common occurrence, and a surefire way to get me to drop your story upon first sight.

I cannot engage with media that have regular ass people know exactly how to react, what to say, what to read into, on the first try, when the nature of human existence so chaotic and varied.

Maybe that kid is hiding under the table because you’re wearing fuchsia, maybe it’s because your voice sounds like someone they had a nightmare about, maybe its because the lights hurt their eyes, maybe it’s because they feel safer in cramped spaces, maybe they’re eating ants. You don’t know. They don’t know. Getting things wrong is as much a part of the process as getting things right.

SO!!! ONCE MORE WITH FEELING!!! ABOT!!!

Phantomrose makes it clear, as early as Reigen & Mob’s first meeting, that we’re dealing with a regular ass human fuckup, even in the midst of the rose filter from Mob’s POV.

In the scene, Reigen is presented as being undoubtedly ignorant as to the true nature of what the hell is going on. He, mistakenly, does not believe that the barrier is real. All he knows that is Mob has come from some Yikes and needs help. Oh, and in Reigen’s limited knowledge, he thinks there’s a confirmed Dead Man off somewhere too.

And yet, despite the pressing circumstances, or y’know, having a presumed corpse he should probably mention to somebody, Reigen does not call the cops.

“Okay. Okay… Do you—just—do you want to come to my house? Just for tonight. It’s…late. Don’t feel like dealing with any more police officers tonight anyway. Maybe we just…go sleep. Get you some clothes or, a shower probably. It’s…I’m tired. You’ve got to be tired too.”

We get an explanation for this later on, in chapter 14…

What if he ran off again, back to his dead Shishou’s basement…?

…but. Were the audience not clued into Mob’s circumstances, one would argue that though well intentioned, Reigen’s messing up. And despite the many things Reigen does to help Mob (which he does, he really does) this motif continues throughout the fic.

With Reigen sometimes saying insensitive things to Mob.

“No, I’m…” Mob paused. He hiccupped, voice still hitching, body still trembling. “I’m sorry Shishou is dead. I did something to make him kill himself. I know it.”

“Good, Mob. Good…”

Mob stared up, jaw slack, baffled.

With Reigen often acting as much as his own interest as in Mob’s.

“Toast, Mob, it’s going to be toast. And eggs. And yes. This is breakfast for both of us, and you’re going to help.” Reigen looked the boy over, and the feeling in his chest was almost manic. He was looking at something maybe he could fix.

Where Reigen will make logical assumptions, but false ones nonetheless.

“I’m going to grab just a handful of things from those aisles, okay? Not going far. I just want you to stay here, with the paper, and pick up our order when it’s ready. Okay? It’s another exercise. I’m still here. I’m still suppressing the barrier. I just think you’re strong enough to stand here for a moment by yourself. Can you do that?”

–carved things up, sliced them, killed them…

Mob’s mind filled with static.

He nodded. It was the only thing he could think to do.

Reigen smiled, and stood up from his crouched position. He turned on his heel, toward the left side of the store. He rounded the edge of the counter, and suddenly he was gone.

And yes ! As a survivor, this shit is important to me. 

These scenes showcase that comfort does not have to be found gift wrapped, pure and untainted, and delivered by an angel spluttering down from the shiniest parts of heaven. No. It can be found in people who are flawed and sometimes selfish and who are just trying. It can be found in folks like abot!Reigen.

In folks who weren’t predestined by some holy undertaking, but rather who are just making the best of the circumstances they find themselves thrust into.

SPEAKING OF WHICH,

Part 3. Plotting cause + effect 

I’ll be honest and say this is something I learned very recently from Phanrose. 

From my creative perspective, as long as an action is in character for someone, I can find a way to make it happen. A good showcase for this is, ironically enough, Attic Au, and it’s many incarnations. I can adapt to circumstances to cause what I want to happen. 

This is, again, a tie-in to the way I rationalize the chaotic nature of human existence. Sometimes shit can just do, and as long as you pull hard enough emotionally, you can get people on board. So I spend a lot of time on the “why”, with my “hows” remaining fairly lose and interchangeable.

Abot takes this in the opposite direction. She says ‘okay but what if I use the chaotic nature of human existence to cause everything to bump into eachother’.

And honestly I’m kinda tripping over it ?? Like it’s extremely fun ? Connecting all these dots? And it doesn’t feel convenient either. It feels like a logical progression.

To use early examples, as I have been for the most part:

Jun hires Reigen to investigate her husband Tetsuo disappearing at weird hours.

“That’s really all I want from this.” She looked up now, palms in her lap, eyes set to Reigen. “I want you to just figure out what’s going on because I can’t.”

Reigen then discovers that Tetsuo is being possessed.

A thousand memories assaulted him at once, tainted with the raw smell of incense, the grittiness of salt between his fingers and under his nails, dimmed lights and candles and incantations and that dread in the air, like pressure, that he felt whenever a Spirits and Such case turned out to be real.

Reigen decides to confront Mogami 2 different times. The first time he learns his identity, and the second time Reigen gets too close to hitting on Mob’s presence for Mogami’s comfort.

“Why did you buy cough syrup today?” Reigen blurted out. “You miss that taste too? Tetsuo doesn’t have a cold. It’s not for him. You got other puppets I don’t know about?!”

Mogami threatens to kill Tetsuo and take Reigen, so Reigen makes a bargain (with newly cut up hand to make his 1 sigil out of 1000 work).

Reigen thrust his hands down and out, body displayed unprotected. Sweat slid down his face, soaked through his suit, mixed with the blood in his palm. “Come possess me! Space for rent right here, y-yeah? Yeah! Not gonna resist. Not gonna fight. All I’m gonna do is slam you with these tags if you get too close!” 

The tag works, banishing Mogami. Mob notices the lack of Mogami’s presence, and goes looking for him.

Even when Mogami left the house, his aura only ever grew fainter, steadily diffused as Mogami established distance between himself and the house. It was an easy blip to detect at all times. It was a constant thrumming presence in Mob’s life for the last four years.

And it had vanished in an explosion that left Mob’s psychic core ringing.

“…Shishou?” Mob called through the door.

Upon finding Mogami’s corpse in the attic, Mob makes for the streets, thinking Mogami has freshly killed himself and that he can no longer stay there.

Mob shot down the hall, took the stairs two at a time with his hand skimming the banister. His mind wasn’t clearing. His thoughts weren’t forming. The reality of what he’d seen beat in heavier against him with each passing second. Mob let out another keening crying, finding no response in the black house.

Another brush of wind, Mob turned toward the foyer. He’d been right—the front door had been left open.

This makes for a wonderful storytelling device. Firstly, it makes the audience both wary and excited for the consequences of any actions in the future. If any action can seemingly build off one another, what’s to say a throwaway moment wont come back to haunt us? 

Plus! Aside from making scenes engaging, it also subverts some tropes while it’s at it.

Reigen, despite literally being a PI, does not find Mob on a missing person’s case. And does not discover Mob either of the times he followed Tetsuo into the Mogami house. Instead he only finds Mob by the boy crashing into him. Which only happens again because of a set up in chapter 3.

This carries on and spills over into Ritsu’s plotline too! Which nbnmbxn, I haven’t touched on as much in order to leave a good chunk of story there to peruse as you will.

I’ve learned a lot just from watching pr96 chisel out a story. And you wanna know what else I’ve learned?

Part 4. Scene setting 

OKAY I FESS UP THIS IS JUST ME HAVING A THING FOR SETTINGS BEING INCORPORATED INTO THE ATMOSPHERE OF THE SCENE OKAY, OKAY.

With that out of the way, she’s damn good at it yall.

Phantomrose96 likes to employ what I call mood scenery. Where the physical objects present in a setting take a backseat to how the characters feel about it, and therefore flesh it out all the better.

Compare how Reigen sees his apartment:

Reigen cringed a bit as he looked about, taking in, remembering the mess decorating the living room. The ashtray on the table overflowed with cigarette butts, staining the wood around it with sooty acrid residue. Three empty plates were pushed to the table’s edge, scraped of food and left to stagnate for…how many days, Reigen wasn’t sure. Empty beer cans gathered in a herd near them, a few on the floor, leaving sticky coagulated rings around their rim and smelling of staleness, of stagnant fermentation.

With how Mob sees it:

Mob’s apprehension eased off. The look was replaced entirely with something like confusion. He pulled out of his blanket cocoon, let his eyes rove over the apartment in full inspection. The confusion never left his face.

“It’s so much cleaner than Shishou’s house.”

Scenes like this are peppered and expertly handled throughout the entirety of abot. 

As a comic illustrator, I often struggle with coming up with backgrounds that tell you a bit about the circumstances of the people who live there, and about the mood of someone viewing it. But Phananarosa does it.

And, like. every setting is like this. Instead of getting fatigue at scene changes, I eagerly dive in because what’s not to love !!! It captures just enough details that it can be fleshed out, without boring the audience with a surplus of inconsequential details.

Teruki walked past the rows of lockers. Further back were bathroom stalls. Three sinks lined up beneath a wall-length mirror. This area existed as its own pocket, seemingly separate from the rest of the lockers, and the light only scarcely touched it. The shadows grew heavy along a gradient, the farthest sink half shrouded in darkness. Even farther back, crowned by a single burnt-out hanging light, was a row of four showerheads, no curtains separating one from the next.

It is no coincidence that some of the backgrounds I consider to be some of my better ones, are ones I made for abot.

It’s very apparent that Phanro9 knows what she’s doing with the words she chooses to dress these with. And, you guessed it, TIME TO SEGUE INTO

Part 5. Incredible writing all around

Okay now I can just gush about some the extra little details that GhostFlower96 uses that just make her tale that much more fun to read.

Amazing dialogue. Especially in Reigen’s case.

“Gottaswirl the eggs to seal in the moisture. Gotta just…put extra butteron the toast, I guess, so you don’t taste the black part cuz that’sprobably bitter, so you—never mind I’ll make different toast thatisn’t burned, gimme your plate.”

You ever tire of reading fics where the characters sound the same ? Spectreblossom has got you covered!

He thrust a hand out, palm open to Ritsu. “My name is Teruki Hanazawa. I’m the esper who’s better than you.”

Ritsu stared at the offered hand. He fought the instinct to step back. “The spirits didn’t say anyone owned them.” He paused, and weighed his options. “And who says you’re stronger than I am?”

Say you wanna feel ur heartstrings tugged because god oh god he’s a mess but he’s still good for something. we got a fresh supply

Beside them, the rice pot boiled over, glutinous water dripping down the black pot’s side and charring against the newly cleaned grating. The sauce bowl sat stagnant and undissolved, a colloid of new and stale ingredients perhaps unsalvageable for the recipe. Broken spoons, filthy sponges, open containers of starch and sugar and soy sauce littered the counter tops, the smell of something burning lingering overtop.

And at the center of the mess, Mob sliced the knife clean through the red bell pepper.

You wanna be haunted by singular closing lines? Already on it.

Thebarrier swept back around Mob, like the curtain drawn at the close ofa play.

Kids ? Being written like kids ? In phantomroseyboboeybananafanafofoseyfiphimomoseyphantomrosey’s fanfic? It’s more likely than you think! 

“After this, can we go back to the park?” Mob asked. He wobbled, tilting his head over his shoulder to ask Mogami directly.

“We go to the park every day.” Mogami answered. He walked the sidewalk, thin silver hair catching sunlight and twists of icy wind. The hollow pockets beneath his eyes were deep, but not unkind, intently watchful of Mob who dipped and wavered with each balance-beam step.

“Yeah, because I like it.”

You want some de-glorification of teenage violence? Boy have I just the thing.

He felt 9 again, scared, weak, unsafe, and he cried quietly while he watched the consciousness leave Teruki’s body.

Limp and loose, Teruki’s hands dropped from the tie around his neck.

You like metaflours and symbopolism ? WE GOT THAT TOO

Reigen looked over his shoulder. Mob shut the door behind them, turning to investigate the apartment with wide captive eyes. “…It’s warm,” he muttered, and stepped in line behind Reigen.

You wanna feel like you got punched in your chest ? Even on things you knew already ? Even things you had every tool in your belt to see coming?

Reigen stopped. He lost track of his own words as his focus fell entirely on the sight in front of him. The kid was standing halfway between the bathroom and the living room, his hair still a bit wet, and his borrowed clothes soft and loose. He stood a head shorter than Reigen, and his wide eyes stared back, lost, waiting for instruction. Waiting as though he needed permission to even get his sheets and go to bed.God, it really was just a kid…

fuck ing , d we . g o t       tHat    t o o         goddammit

If you wanna read, you can start here ! Or here, on tumblr.

[jae-bummer]

The Soulmate Theory (Soulmate AU)

Request: Can you please do #2 and #3 with Jun? Thank you much :)

2) “I’m always tired…but never of you.” 3) “I’d be a terrible person if I let you do something stupid alone.”

Member: Seventeen’s Jun x Y/N

Type: Fluff

You tapped your pen against the metal spiral holding together your notebook and attempted not to scowl. You were unsure why you had signed up for this class, especially now that you were having to pay for an education. College wasn’t something you imagined as being such a series of hits or misses, but man, were you picking the wrong elective courses. 

You looked up to your instructor, a bulbous man of around fifty. He had probably been balding since before you were born and judging by his lack of wedding ring, you assumed he had been divorced about as long. 

Which was juuuust perfect. 

When a man is teaching a class about soul mate lore, it was definitely best if he had divorced who you had assumed to be his soulmate. His first words tattoo stood out brightly on his exposed forearm, bits of it faded or scabbed from his apparent attempts in trying to remove it. 

The irony was just too good. 

“Today’s lesson,” his raspy voice croaked. “Will be focused on “Soulmate Identifying Marks.” Now I know you all received a brief overview of this in high school, but today we’ll be diving in depth to really explore soul marks and their use in our culture.” 

You rolled your eyes and subconsciously glanced down at your knee. Through a small rip in your jeans, you could just barely see a snippet of the scrawled text that had appeared on your skin years ago. Looking up again, you noticed your classmates around you were doing the same. 

You were all just trying to figure it out. 

Admittedly, for awhile, you didn’t believe in soulmates. As your professor had mentioned, you had all gone through classes in middle and high school to explain the unique condition your species had been subjected to. The multifaceted world of soulmates was not an easily digestible one. Different cultures experienced different things, and if you didn’t have the same type of soul mark as the other people in your household, it only meant you were destined to travel, that your soulmate was in a completely different country than you were. 

From the country you had come from, in general, you would be born with a birthmark that would be similar to your future soulmate’s birthmark. This difference in skin pigmentation could appear at any point of your young adult life, starting as soon as you hit puberty. You had waited and waited, but no such birthmark occurred. 

Your mother had been entirely too stressed about your future love life, or lack there of. She took you to religious officials, doctors, and even once, a tattoo artist. No one had an answer for her, but you were at peace with that. Surely there were others out there like you who didn’t have a mark, and you would be okay. Someone would find you...someday. 

Until you woke up one morning and noticed clouded gray marks dotting your kneecap. Scrubbing for nearly an hour in the bathroom only made it worse, the words becoming more clear than any ink smudge could. 

And your mother had become happy again. 

You didn’t not have a soulmark, just a different one, belonging to a different culture. 

After a quick google search, you had discovered that your type of soul mark mostly appeared in East Asia. Once your mother found out, she had every college pamphlet from Hong Kong to Tokyo picked out for you. Before you were even capable of realizing the future you were launching yourself towards, you had your suitcase packed to begin your tour of countries you had never dreamed of visiting. 

And that’s how you ended up here. 

In Seoul, trying to figure out exactly why your bodies had become this way. 

But this guy wouldn’t be giving you the answers. 

“Soul marks are an identifying characteristic to help two individuals find each other, such as complimentary birthmarks, or as in our country, the first words you hear spoken by your soulmate. The mark may appear any time after puberty,” your professor continued, droning in monotone as he read verbatim from your textbook. “Of course in the following units, we’ll go over sense alterations and other signs seen in varying countries. When our body sciences began to include soul mate identifying capabilities, divorce rates...have dropped and life expectancies are still increasing.” 

“If you were born in South Korea,” he continued blandly. You had a difficult time looking at him, his facial expressions becoming more and more disinterested in the actual words he was saying. “Or have a soul mate from an East Asian country, we have all become familiar with the words marking our skin. Very rarely does someone become a young adult without seeing words written on their flesh. Of course there are varying factors. Our culture seems to forget those who are deaf or have different disabilities. Most often, we’re left to our own worst thoughts that we don’t have soul mates, but realistically, that will only occur for under three percent of the population.” 

“Is that around the world or just East Asia?” someone called out. 

The professor chuckled before shaking his head. “East Asia, do you really think I care that far to search numbers around the world? I hardly care outside of Korea.”

You looked up uneasily and scanned the classroom, locking eyes with a handsome boy you had recognized during roll call. His name had seemed foreign in structure, so he was just as displaced in this new country as you were. He gave you a sad smile and lifted his brows before turning his face back to the instructor. You continued to look around at your fellow classmates, realizing that none of you looked similar. Every skin tone on the spectrum shone out underneath the florescent lights and you were proud. You had all enrolled here for the same reason. 

All of you had been the outliers in your cultures. All of you had soulmates dwelling in the 4,600,000 square miles of East Asia. All of you were here in hopes of bringing yourself a little bit closer to your destiny. 

You felt a rush of adrenaline flood your veins as you stuck your arm into the air, lifting it to be able to speak. 

“Oh...uh, yes...Y/N, is it?” your teacher asked, lifting his brows in surprise. 

“What happened to your soulmate?” you asked, incapable of biting your tongue any longer. “You’ve talking to us about soul marks in Korea, but you haven’t told us anything about yourself. Shouldn’t we hear your story?” 

“Oh,” he chuckled, crossing his arms. He tilted his forearm deliberately so you could no longer see the marred words printed there. “Well, I don’t think that’s necessarily a story I owe you.” 

“Don’t you though?” you prodded. “How can you be a subject matter expert when you don’t want to talk about how the subject applies to your life? I mean, you are quite literally telling us all that our society runs off of the idea of soulmates, granted, you don’t really care about those of us not from your own country, but we don’t even really know if you have one.” 

“Of course I have one,” he croaked. “And I don’t appreciate this attack on my character.” 

“It’s not an attack on your character,” you groaned. “If it’s to be considered an attack at all, it’s on your intelligence.” 

You looked around to see your classmates stifle their giggles, trying to hide smiles as you voiced all of the words they had been thinking. 

“Get out of my class,” the professor hissed. Your eyes grew wide as he stared at you. “And anyone else who shares the same opinion, you can feel free to leave as well.” 

You took a deep breath as you shut your book with the all of the force you were capable of. Shoving it in your backpack, you glanced up at the professor and nodded. You slung your bag over your shoulder and breathed in sharply as you noticed movement in your peripherals. You looked over to see the same boy you had made eye contact with previously, now packing his things and standing. 

“Anyone else?” the professor asked as you began down the steps of the auditorium style classroom. A buzz of conversation radiated around you as you moved, incapable of making eye contact with anyone else. You felt exhilarated as you walked, the first real time you had ever confronted anyone, let alone a teacher. You breezed out of the classroom and could only breath properly again once you reached one of the benches outside. You swung your book bag around and plopped it on the ground before exhaling. 

You involuntarily flinched as a body appeared beside yours on the bench. The boy who had walked out of the classroom as you had turned and nodded at you. 

“You didn’t agree with him either?” you chuckled, shaking your head. 

He smiled, tilting his own as he looked at you. “I’d be a terrible person if I let you do something stupid alone.” 

You stopped for a moment, almost numb to his words as he spoke them. You turned slowly to properly face him, dozens of questions attempting to assemble themselves in your brain and burst from your lips. 

He nodded brightly, a large grin on his face. “Yep, it’s me. I’m the guy.”

You furrowed your brows for a moment, thinking back to the words decorating your skin. You had stared at them for years, wondering about the male or female who would utter that one simple sentence. You always wondered the context, wondered exactly what the “stupid something” was going to be. ...which made another thought spring to your lips. 

“Do you really think what I did was stupid?” 

“To some, maybe,” he chuckled. “But you stood up for yourself and called him out on some pretty problematic shit, so that’s neat.” 

You smiled as you shook your head, attempting to recall the first words you had spoken in his presence. “Wait...what do you have-”

He pulled up his sleeve, his smile never fading as he read the words from his forearm. “What happened to your soulmate?” 

“Oh man,” you chuckled. “Sorry...that had to be confusing.” 

“Admittedly,” he nodded. “I was kind of bummed when it wasn’t something more romantic. Maybe ‘I’ve finally found my home.” Or ‘I’m always tired, but never of you.’” 

You lifted a brow, trying to keep from giggling. “I never thought my soulmate would be so...”

“Handsome? Romantic? Adorable?” he grinned.  “Cringy,” you snorted. “But for the record, the first thing you said to me wasn’t exactly Shakespearean.” 

He rolled his eyes, but still looked amused. “This makes for a better story I think.” 

“It would’ve made for a better story if we lead the charge and had the entire classroom walk out behind us,” you said with a wink. 

“Don’t rule that out just yet,” he whispered, gently tapping your knee. You looked up to see your fellow students filing out of the classroom you had both just left. Your grin couldn’t grow any wider as student after student passed in rapid fire discussion about what had just happened. 

“Hey,” you called out, noticing the girl you usually sat beside. “You all really left?” 

“No, he cancelled class early,” she muttered, hardly looking up from her phone. “Something about how he has to reassess life choices or something.” 

You heaved a sigh as you looked back to your legs and began to poke at the holes in the denim. You stretched the fabric to be able to see your skin in full. “I’d be a terrible person...”

As you were reading along silently to yourself, you felt the man beside you shift his position. Humming, he pulled at the hand you were using to shift your jeans, and wrapped it in his own instead. 

“I’m Junhui by the way,” he nodded. “You were probably wondering.” 

“I assumed I’d figure it out,” you smiled, nodding to him. 

“So maybe our story didn’t start with a classroom revolution,” he chirped. “But it did start, so that’s something.”

“Relentlessly optimistic,” you laughed. “I like it.” 

“You better,” he laughed as well. “Cause you’re kind of stuck with me now. The Soulmate theory says so.” 

“Is that how it works?” you teased. “Divorce rates are down, not nonexistent.” 

“Hey, hey,” he argued. “You can’t divorce me before we’ve even started dating.” 

“Who makes these rules, Junnie?” you smiled. 

“Me, I do,” he nodded. “And I say you’re stuck with me.” 

“Hmph,” you sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to live with that then.” 

“Try not to sound so enthusiastic,” he chuckled. He began to stand and tossed his bag over his arm. He reached down and tugged at your hand again. “Let’s go.” 

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Well, obviously we have to FaceTime my mom and let her know what happened. Then we have to FaceTime your mom and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you gasped. “Can’t we just...slow down? Get some coffee first maybe? Try to digest everything that just happened?” 

“Right. Coffee. Good idea,” he nodded. “Digesting. I can digest.” 

You laughed, shaking your head as you shouldered your book bag. What an interesting glance into your forever. 

[grief-is-a-noun]

ode to the ex-boyfriend

I’ve never written about jake before, in a manner where i really gave myself time to sort out the way that i feel about him. When I broke up with him I was the happiest girl on the planet. I was finally free. Free from all his lies, his manipulative tendencies, his apparent and utterly dominant abuse. I don’t care what anyone says. I don’t care what anyone thinks that they know. He told me once he loved me so much because i was the only one who really knew him. I was the only one who actually saw him for who he was and he was right. I was the only one that saw him for the monster that he really is. He said I was the only person he didn’t have a surfaced relationship with. I’m sure he held onto me because it was exhausting being the fake “mr. nice guy”. He takes after his father. I remember coming over one weekend all three days (friday,saturday, and sunday) and his parents were fighting. I asked jake if everything was okay and he said his father is “irritated” at his mother because she suggested that he should’ve taken a different tone when speaking to the technical support guy on the phone. Can you believe that shit? Like ok, it doesn’t matter that there are children being sex trafficked, people who are homeless, injustice happening everywhere in the world, i’m going to waste my energy on being upset at my wife because my life is all about fucking me and how irate i get once i’m slightly inconvenienced. Not like I believe in the bible or anything that is the pinnacle calling for living a selfless life. I believe jakes mother has been mentally abused by mr. mcfaul her entire life, but she feels obligated toward him because in some cynical dark way she contributes her faith to him. In her mind, perhaps, she believes he is the one that kept her aligned with God. she needs to give herself more credit. Mr. mcfaul was always a nice man to me, he never did anything to hurt me but he failed to teach his son the proper way to take care of a woman and for that a part of me resents him. I honestly feel bad for him because when I look at him I see a man who doesn’t know how to emotionally connect with his children and never learned his lessons, always heading for complacency. Instead he instilled fear in his children that resulted in them becoming judgemental perfectionists. a lost cause, if you will. 

I wrote previously that i was the happiest girl in the world when i broke up with jake and i was. No more comments about how we were going to move to idaho or how he would rather me stay home with the kids and be a housewife than pursue a degree. I couldn’t bask in the fact that I am an educated woman with an actual functioning brain. Don’t get me wrong, there is NO hate for housewives here, women should be able to choose whatever life they want to live, however, jake started our relationship with the will to change me. That's why I wholeheartedly believe I didn't break his heart, I broke his pride. Who am I kidding, I'm too fiercely independent to just be a housewife. I can simultaneously be a housewife, a good mom, and a working woman. I can contribute because I have always been able to handle my shit, he didn’t want to see it like that because my independence was a threat, it meant a lack of dependence on him. Without dependence, it is easy to leave, or so he thought. It's funny how that fear played into our relationship. He always “bragged” about the fact that he had broken up with every girl he had ever been with and although i did not go into this relationship planning on leaving him, I know subconsciously my mind was like “bet”. I can be toxic like that. He was sweet at first, he did strive to take care of me but he got too comfortable with my eagerness to forgive him until he finally reached a point where he didn’t care anymore. I tried everything, i sought out a mentor for him, i booked us counseling sessions, i fucking tried. Even though I was unhappy I held onto the good. I do that. I fight for the reason why I started. I hold onto the good for as long as I can and then when i cannot psychologically handle it anymore I hone in on all the bad shit and that’s what makes it so easy to leave.

I could probably write a whole novel on the abusive things he did. How he made me feel crazy for believing his girl best friend had feelings for him even though she openly admitted that she did in the past. I knew they were still there. How he held a secret meeting with her while we were dating to apologize on my behalf for how crazy my accusations were and that he wanted to get the “full story” on how I approached her because we both had two very different versions of what happened. How when i found out months later that this meeting occurred he shut me down and told me i had no right to be upset at him because it was in the past and he wouldn't do something like that now. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! I should have dumped him right then and there. My only regret is not leaving his ass sooner. I still remember the apathetic tone he took with me outside that fucking in n out in Westlake. I've written before how I was like a robot to him and he just shut my emotions on and off when he pleased. He negated any feeling I had that posed to him as an inconvenience and how I feel about him is the closest thing I've ever felt to hate. Jake, you made me feel crazy. Ironically enough though not two months after we broke up is when he finally apologized to me because said girl best friend tried to get at him, again. I knew he didn’t like her in that way, jake likes girls with at least half a brain and to be honest it would be more interesting talking to a door knob than participating in a conversation with her. But it wasn’t about the way she felt. It was about the way she looked at me when he wasn’t looking. How i was uncomfortable that she would always try to brush up next to him or take my seat by his side and everyone was secretly rooting for them. Jake, you moved to idaho to get over me and start over and she fucking moved there too. God, a part of me hopes you guys get married. She's too mindless to receive any of your abuse, she will do whatever you say without a fight and utmost willingness. But I know you don’t like that, I know you prefer a fight because it makes you feel powerful, having someone you can control. I’m just thankful I recognized this, and made it out alive.

Here’s the thing about assholes, it's no secret i don’t like the nicest men if i do i get bored and then leave. Jared was an outstanding guy, he met the love of his life after i broke up with him and we check in with each other once a year or so. I have him and his girlfriend on Instagram and I'll like or comment on their pictures. I sometimes DM his girlfriend, she replies to my stories or mine to hers. Jared talks to my brother a couple times a month too. My dad and brother both really miss him. I lived with Jared for a time and he with me. We were family. The dynamic we have created is healthy and I'm happy for him. Matt on the other hand, definitely resents me. He goes through stages of blocking me then unblocking me but i don’t really care. I wrote him  a letter apologizing back in 2017 and we are on ok terms. I know it's his girlfriend that doesn’t want us to be friends but I support that. I get it. He has been dating her for almost three years and I really do hope they get married. My first love has been the hardest to get on good terms with, it took 5 years. The last time I talked to Kyle was actually a few days ago. I had a question to ask him and he responded but I never texted him back. I don’t know why I’m like this. Last time I saw him was on Labor Day when he, Jadyn, and I all went to the beach after he got off work. We talked about the ocean, music, snowboarding, surfing, you know, miniscule bullshit. It was that night I finally realized I was over him. I don’t talk about him much anymore, he was my first love, that is all i have to say. We are strangers to each other now and I can only hope he likes the person he has become but I don’t know him anymore. The boy I loved is gone. It took five years of rumors among others and silence between us for me to realize we are adults, we are different people. I know we will never be friends but it’s cool that we are cordial. I will go on counting him as the first love of my life, he will go on counting me as his biggest regret, and for both, I am not sorry. Well where was I? Oh that's right, assholes. You see, Jake is the kind of asshole you want to run from. Hop on a plane and fly a million miles away. Logan is the kind of asshole you can empathize with. Jake hasn’t been through one difficult thing in his life. He is almost 26, still living with his parents (now living with them in a different state), never finished school, too prideful to put in the work, and still to this day, always taking the easy way out. He hated the fact that i made more money than him, that i paid for most (if not all) of our dinners and trips, that i had direction in my life and he didn’t. He resented me for taking care of him but I still did it anyways. That’s when you do when you’re in a relationship, it's a team effort, 50/50. I don’t see it any other way. Jake hated people with trauma or emotions. He couldn’t empathize with them. He wanted to just turn away any hardship because it made him feel uncomfortable. He hated things that challenged him, hated what he didn’t understand. This is why Jake is the bad kind of asshole. Then you have someone like Logan. Logan is confused, as we all are. And although he doesn’t like the thought of being vulnerable there’s layers to that. Reasons why. He has depth. The difference here is that when my nana died and i asked jake to leave “work” (which was him sitting at his fucking computer practicing coding or playing video games) he said he didn’t want too, on god. Added that he didn’t get why i was so sad over my nana dying when we weren’t even that “close.” i think that's when i began to resent him, took me way too fucking long. Jake didn’t want to care about me, hell, he didn’t even listen to me. If he had, he would have known my nana left everything to me and she always wrote that I was her favorite grandchild. If I really needed Logan, I knew he would be there for me. Hell, I called him in the middle of the night and asked him to pick me up in the morning to give me a ride to simi and he didn't even ask why, he just came. Not only that but he was dropping me off at a protest and the march wasn’t something he believed in, as beneficial to society, but he still took me there anyways. I know that, even now, if something really bad ever happened to me and I asked Logan to be there, he would. That is a reflection of his character that goes far beyond circumstance. I know i'm not special, I believe he’d do that for anyone he cares about because he is a good person. So ya, i put up with his impulsive petty bullshit because we all have impulsive and petty bullshit we do. However, when worst comes to worst and you're really in the thick of it, you need people that you know you can always count on. I might’ve lost that side of Logan because of my mistakes. I know he played a role in how badly things ended between us which he apologized for. I can be too sensitive sometimes and I think my lack of understanding of him fogged my judgement, actually I know it did. I mean, fuck, all three of us could’ve played a healthier role in that situation. After I broke up with Jake he’d ask me to get coffee or go out to lunch every once in a while and I agreed (why? Couldn’t tell you). I used to just cry about the whole situation with Logan and it made Jake so angry. He would tell me he hated the way I cared so much about him. How i never cried over him like that and didn’t understand why losing Logan hurt so bad. Well, it hurt so bad because I was subconsciously lying to myself about the fact that I was in love with him; but even looking beyond the way I felt it hurt so much because Logan is a one in a million kind of person, Jake is just your everyday plain old asshole. My god do I hope that he changes. He definitely needs to seek therapy before entering another relationship, I really just want what's best for him. 

So, ode to the ex boyfriend. I know, not your typical 14 lined, iambic pentameter, sonnet. But here is to the man that wouldn’t kiss me when i took him to new york for my birthday because he wanted me to be just as miserable as he was (he hated cities), who told me it was my obligation to stay with him after i left because i slept with him and that meant we were already married, who told me i couldn’t pray over him because i didn’t grow up in the ideal Christian home, (my family is fucked but at least we are real, i love them) the man who lied to me, the man who went behind my back, the man who made me want to so desperately drive my car off the road. To the man who made me reach my breaking point. realizing our relationship was a choice of life or death, here’s to him.

 I’m sorry i didn’t love you and i’m sorry i didn’t leave you sooner. I’m sorry i bought into your comfortability with putting a fake persona into the world and made our life together look perfect on instagram. I'm sorry it took me leaving you in order for you to buy a ring and by that time it was too late. I'm sorry that if we did get married and our relationship got worse I would've killed myself before I would've left you. I’m sorry I don’t believe in divorce. The bones in my body don’t ever ache for vengeance because I simply do not care enough. I’m sorry that you thought I was a fighter. I’m sorry because I'm simultaneously not sorry at all. I wish you the very best and if there is one thing I ask of you, it's that you don’t treat the next girl you pursue the way you treated me. Listen to her. Love her. Put her before yourself. Allow her to love herself for who she wants to be, not who you want to make her. I’m glad I broke myself, then broke you, in hopes you’d learn not to break her one day. Good luck to you.

[rosyscorp]

🎭 The Basic Approach Of Persona Charts 🎭

Each Persona is that specific archetype within ourselves:

1. Ascendant Persona: giving you more clues about your ASC (The ASC in a natal chart is a “persona” in itself, the mask, the way we project to others, first impression, our natural immediate reaction, the physical and overall appearance). The Ascendant in the ASC Persona Chart and other overall aspects and houses would give additional clues about the physical appearance. For example, a woman with ASC in Capricorn in the solar chart with ASC in Aries in the Ascendant Persona: Capricorn physical traits, but also athletic, energetic, with direct blunt movements and gestures and possibly Aries features. Going after things in an Aries manner.

2. Midheaven Persona: will tell you a lot about your most suitable career and vocation, an excellent tool for career predictions, but we must also consider there is much more to the Midheaven, it is a point describing your “life peak”, so the overall Midheaven Persona describes how you get to this peak, in what circumstances, with what tools, and as a result of what events, and what this peak means, in your current incarnation.

3. NN Persona: your destiny, your direction in life; this is generally a very eventful chart, your NN Persona, with a whole story written in it, from childhood to maturity, and a journal of all the events and lessons along the way.

4. Moon Persona: your emotional personality, needs, Yin energy. In terms of synastry: the Anima of the man.

5. Venus Persona: our “love” personality, how we behave in love, tastes, preferences. Love, beauty, talents, likes, dislikes, another level of Yin energy, sensuality, social success, money, good fortune. In terms of the synastry: a woman’s femininity, a man’s “type”. A Venus Persona ASC offers clues about the type of “beauty” that person has and likes. For example, a man with a Capricorn ASC in the solar chart, ASC in Libra in the Venus Persona: saturnian in appearance, but also beautiful and graceful, more airy than a regular Cap, more charming than the usual Cap etc. but the Cardinal flavor is getting even stronger, so is Saturn more distilled in expression. This Persona will also describe at least a big part of the portrait of his ideal woman.

6. Mars Persona: sexuality, drive, physical body, assertion, Yang energy. In terms of synastry, clues about a woman’s “type”.

7. Mercury Persona: “mental” personality, general mobility, communication, expressiveness, thought processes, skills.

8. Jupiter Persona: luck, expansion, expansive nature, growth potential, teaching, learning, travel, success

9. Saturn Persona: adulthood, maturity, structure, needs, fears, accomplishments

10. Uranus Persona: freedom, originality, creativity, expansion, travel, surprises, the unexpected in your life

11. Neptune Persona: dreams, higher love, spirituality, talents, soul, compassion, redemption, illusion, deep psychology, unexpected tides

12. Pluto Persona: potential for transformation, rebirth, major life events, psychological evolution, potential for power, shared resources, deep sexuality, needs

13. DSC Persona: a profile of how you are as a partner, what partner is suitable for you and what partner you will eventually have

14. IC Persona: your deepest “heart” and heart’s desires profile, vertical look at your personality and psychology, subconscious forces at play, early life background and how you carry it in time, family ties, current incarnation theme

15. Juno Persona: description of your partnership style and needs and of your ideal and destined partner

These are just the main examples. The analysis of a Persona chart always takes into account the position occupied by that planet in the natal chart, as ruler, but also its role as part of the astrological architecture. For example, someone with Sun conjunct Neptune in the solar chart would look at his Neptune Persona to understand his overall personality, the type of Neptune associated with his solar personality. He would be a dreamer, an artist, a magician or a charismatic crook: but what kind of dreamer, artist, magician, crook? This will be shown by his Neptune Persona. Another example, someone with Pluto conjunct the ASC; his Pluto Persona would define his general personality, he is Plutonian for sure, in looks and behavior, but the way he manifests “his” Pluto will be shown by his Pluto Persona chart.


The main personalization here comes from rulership, first and foremost, and in all cases. The Moon Persona of a Cancer DSC is not just his general emotional profile, but also his DSC profile, as explained above.

How to interpret a Persona chart? Some succinct basic steps…

1. The Ascendant: first impression about that side of our personality (the Persona), the way we tend to express it spontaneously and in a natural way, how we appear to others (for example, emotionally, for a Moon chart).

2. The Descendant: what type of partner we are, related to that specific archetype, how we relate emotionally (Moon), mentally (Mercury), in love (Venus) etc. What partner we prefer in that specific interaction. And finally, what partner we tend to attract on the level described by that specific Persona.

3. The Midheaven: the best expression of that archetype, what we can achieve when we fully express that archetype, the “vocation” and “final accomplishment” of that archetype within ourselves. The “fate” of that planetary energy. How important is that archetype for us. Here we have clues about the importance of that planetary energy within ourselves, on the MC/IC axis. How we can “blossom”, how we are when we “blossom”, in terms of that archetype. From my personal comparisons, I’ve noticed when a planet/archetype is important for that person, there are significant planets/asteroids in the 4th house or on IC in that specific Persona chart. That planetary energy is a “matter of the heart” for that person, touches his/her core.

4. NN/SN: what we already master, related to that archetype, and what we need to develop within ourselves in order to fully express that planet. Also, clues about important events related to that planet.

And then we proceed with our analysis looking at houses, rulers of houses and aspects to describe that planetary personality, just like we do it with a solar chart. The Sun in the Persona chart is the planet we analyze, so its house and sign in the Persona chart is paramount in understanding the planetary personality. Looking at houses, we can see how the planetary energy manifests itself in various areas of life. For example, in a Moon chart, you can see what area of life affects that person on a deep emotional level. How he expresses his emotions (1st), what values he holds dear, how stable his emotions are (2nd), how he communicates his emotions, how connected they are with his intellect (3rd), general strong emotionality (4th), how emotional he is in love, creation, children, play etc. (5th), everyday life and health (6th) –emotional problems could be seen here if they are, how he expresses emotions in partnership/the type of emotional partner preferred (7th), how he expresses emotions sexually, transformation, secrets (8th) an so on.

Finally, the planetary aspects in a Persona chart will offer an invaluable additional insight into the aspects you have to that planet in your solar chart, and the general configuration of your solar chart. For example, if you have a Venus/Uranus aspect in your natal chart, you will notice that the aspects to Venus and Uranus in the Venus Persona chart will offer a surprising perspective on what that Venus/Uranus aspect actually means and how it is likely to manifest, in terms of psychological energy and life events.

[kailaelysee]

When I was 21, I set down to write a list of life lessons I’d mostly accumulated from the year before as I reflected on sobriety and what it meant to me. Where my life was once amorphous, I have now been given the gifts of purpose and direction which have shaped my life indelibly. I was scarcely a year sober while I was writing this list, and what strikes me as being significant is the amount of wisdom I’d grown to carry with me, even at the age of twenty-one. When I was twenty, I thought my life was over. What’s more, is that I recognize how much of the list hasn’t changed for me in the last five years-- I might be a *little* less judgemental, a  little less rudimentary in thought and I’ve certainly worked on removing some old belief systems, but I find it pretty profound that I was right on the money about some really important things.

So, here’s my list. Of course, I’ve rewritten it in words more applicable to life and what it means to me now, but the principles remain unchanged.

I don’t know anything, really.

There’s a lot of freedom in admitting that I don’t know much. Having an answer for everything results in harboring a lot of responsibility in areas I have no business giving others advice in. The older I get, the more comfortable I am with telling someone, “I don’t know. Let me ask someone else.” It’s true, I know more than what I did yesterday, but that experience is a drop in the bucket in comparison to what I’m about to learn, or what others can teach me. What’s more important is that I continue to look for guidance and to never forget that I am frequently wrong, I still will be in old age, and I do not have the answers for everything, nor am I qualified to tell anyone else how to live their life, or for that matter, tell them what to do. What I have done over the last five and a half years is gained a lot of life experience, and I’ve admittedly made some very good decisions with solid backing from other people who have shared their own experiences with me. I could never understate the importance of surrounding yourself with a group of people who have what you want. I’ve routinely acted in ways that those who have mentored me have suggested I act. I’ve gotten the results I was looking for. What’s changed in the last five years is that at twenty-one, I was so eager to grow up and to have all of the answers. What I could not understand was the process of allowing myself the room to grow, and the unconditional forgiveness of myself that would be required in order to let this happen naturally. At twenty-six, I’m still a baby and I’m still learning. I hope I’m still curious and still asking questions at eighty. Surrendering the responsibility of trying to convince myself and the rest of the world that I am carrying the weight of the world’s knowledge on my shoulders is an important lesson in the emancipation from self, one in which I hope to continue to learn from. I think I’ve made a good start.

this is not a story about my life.

Self-interest follows me everywhere. I don’t think I’ll ever arrive at a place where I will habitually put the needs of others in front of my own, at least without some concerted effort. The good news is that I’ve rarely, maybe not even ever, met an individual who is capable of doing this at all times. That means I have much more in common with everyone else than I originally thought. Which, in turn, leads me back to the idea that I am not unique and life is not a story written about me or for me. The narrative in my head and the one I intimate to others is skewed, often superfluous, and really isn’t that important. My needs and my wants are not any more important than the guy I’m sitting in traffic with on any given morning. I can be incredibly self-involved, and the problem isn’t that this is always the case, it’s that I fail to recognize I can subconsciously operate in a way that aims to bulldoze everyone else around me in order to gain some false sense of security, happiness, or some enigmatic and unobtainable goal that only serves my immediate needs. The unwavering source of stability I receive from recognizing the humanity in other people and extending them Grace, Grace that I’ve been freely given, is super important. I draw strength from remembering that I am simply a person among persons. Life will continue on (hopefully) after my short stay here, and I hope I can keep the idea that I’m here to help as many people as possible, and not to hurt them, in a healthy perspective. 

[amwritingmeta]

The Destiel of It All: Part I

Briefly before We Begin

Hello. I’m new. I’ve not been in this fandom for very long, but I’ve loved Supernatural for longer. I’ve now read some meta and have found it so uplifting and enjoyable to read through thoughts that reflect my own so perfectly that I felt inspired to begin putting my own impressions into actual words and sharing them with you all. Being in this fandom is like stepping out of the cold and into a warm, lovely, welcoming room of kindred spirits - all kinds of wonderful - so I do apologise for the repetition I’m undoubtedly going to bring to the table, but hopefully I may bring some fresh angles as well. 

Part I of, well, I honestly have no idea.

That said - let’s start.

Romance or Bromance?

The core premise of a romantic coupling, the idea that makes the Love Story so powerful, is two people coming together to open each other’s eyes to what they really need, rather than what they think they want. It should be said that the bromantic coupling is also rooted in this idea: the completion of an emotional puzzle, where the character traits of the one help evolve and, ultimately, unless it’s a tragedy, better the other. However, I will argue my point in the following posts that the relationship between Dean and Castiel is, and always has been, romantic. Not only because of how the showrunners have chosen to write these characters’ dialogue, or because of the blatant use of romantic subtext, evident in how they’ve set up the shots and how the actors act out the scenes and how those scenes are then edited (more on all of that later), but because of how the showrunners have chosen to angle these characters’ joint journey of self-discovery.

Here’s what I mean: in many an example of the romantic narrative, two Opposites will argue and refuse to see eye-to-eye, but unavoidably they will learn from the lessons the other is teaching. This growth is what finally allows them to see past what they’ve always thought they wanted (the conscious external motivation for their journey) to what they really need (the subconscious internal goal of that journey), which is right in front of them: in the case of a romantic narrative this is their other half. Pairing up with their other half and getting what they need, in a well-written story, will usually result in the characters also being able to attain what they truly want, which is typically a variation of the external motivation they’ve been striving towards all along.

For example: In the romantic comedy Leap Year, the protagonist ANNA has one main desire, which is to marry her boyfriend, but she also wants to gain access to a prestigious apartment building in central Boston, which is made easier by the fact that she and her guy Friday are a successful couple, and they’ve both wanted to live in that particular building for a long time: an internal goal (marriage) going hand in hand with an external goal (apartment).

When Anna goes to Ireland to surprise her boyfriend by proposing to him (since he’s seriously dragging his feet), bad weather leaves her stranded and at the mercy of Irishman DECLAN, who runs the small hotel she finds refuge in. Anna and Declan clash immediately, but as Anna needs someone to get her to Dublin, and Declan needs cash to pay off the debts on the hotel, their journeys intertwine. A battle of wills ensues as they go on the road and both clamour for control of the situation, questioning the other’s behaviour, challenging one another and, ultimately, growing to understand each other and lend each other support and encouragement. By the end of their shared journey, their joint external motivation: Dublin or bust, will lead them to call out truths about each other that has them see new truths in themselves, ending in them fulfilling their inner goals: Declan makes peace with his past and Anna let’s go of her expertly planned future. Their reward for learning their lessons and daring to evolve: sharing true love and finding happiness together.

Why am I outlining the plot of this romcom? Because this romantic structure is so applicable to the interlinked character journeys of Dean and Cas - to the point where it’s such an integral part to their narrative - that I cannot imagine it’s not used with every intent and purpose. I would go so far as to say that Dean and Cas being the central love story is very much canon, and have so been since Castiel’s epic entrance into the series, because visual and verbal subtext is every bit as important as the superficially stated - I’d argue it’s more important - to the intricate narrative of this show. When it comes to why the showrunners would need to, rather than outright choose to, keep this love story in subtext is something I’ll (also) discuss further on, so back to the topic at hand: the romance.

Let’s begin with the two most vital ingredients for any narrative, but especially for the romantic one - The Characters.

Dean Winchester

“Saving people, hunting things - the family business.”

So you have this guy who’s outwardly confident, a real guy’s guy and ladies man, a fearless leader, a natural born charmer who’s easy on the eyes, who dresses in a leather jacket, drives a kick-ass set of wheels, listens to classic rock, eats meat - and no frigging veg - like it’s going out of style, has a severe problem with authority, a dorky sense of humour and a heart about the size of Texas: this guy is our Leading Man.

As you get to know him, you realise how much of your first impression of him was actually a very calculated misdirect. You get to see the deepening cracks in his consciously polished veneer, because that outward confidence is all an act, plastered on, not only for the sake of his younger brother, but for his own sake as well, since this guy has perfected the act from a very young age. The weight of responsibility for his brother’s safety that he has been forced to shoulder since childhood, has stumped him from ever taking any real responsibility for himself, so the motor that keeps him running, that gives him purpose and affirms his place in the world, is looking out for his brother’s safety.

This - along with their father’s rigorous training schedule - has turned this guy into a hunter, a killer, who goes after the things that go bump in the night before those things can go after him. He’s gotten so used to being in charge that neither he, nor his brother, question who calls the shots when the going gets really tough, because it’s always been the elder of the two. And the going does get really tough, and this guy, he does make some wrong choices along the way, and there’s regret, but not a whole lot of opening up about it because this guy is tight-lipped and repressed and refuses to acknowledge his emotions as anything more than baggage to be locked away and ignored. Girls talk about their feelings - real men do not.

It’s just that this guy, who sleeps with a new hot chick every other week (or every other night, presumably) and, though clearly one of the Good Ones deep down, treats women as pieces of meat more often than not, has a severely damaged sense of self-esteem. There is a deeply rooted doubt in him, a doubt that says he’s not good for anything but this life he never even chose for himself; and let’s not forget hunting is what this guy does, it doesn’t tell us, really, who he is. This disconnect between being good at what he does, but not so good at being himself, stems from this guy’s father - the most prominent role model in this guy’s life - failing to ever tell him he’s worth something apart from his role as his brother’s guardian.

There’s really no wonder, then, that his younger brother is this guy’s entire world and that family is the epicentre of his universe - not when the truth of it has been drilled into him by a father who gave up a normal life to hunt for his wife’s murderer, dragging his boys into a reality of danger and blood and death in the process, teaching them that this is how you act, this is the sacrifice to be made, for your own blood. There’s no wonder that this guy has shut down any attempt at self-exploration, when every time he’s tried in the past, he’s been yanked back into the circumstances he never chose for himself, but has come to accept as the only reality he’ll ever know. This guy lives by the adage that you do anything for family, and that’s it. That’s all that matters. Without family, there’s only a big, fat nothing. So without his brother he has no sense of self, and as he’s gotten older the probability that there might actually not be anything there but that big, fat nothing has started feeling more and more plausible.

Should he not love his brother? Of course he should, and does. They share a very real and abiding bond that even Death himself has tried, and failed, on numerous occasions, to entirely sever. However, this abiding bond and this lack of self-esteem holds this guy - and ultimately his brother - back from stepping out of their shared comfort zone of familiarity, and into one of actual self-reliability. Does this mean they have to part ways? No - and they never, ever will, but it’s become a vicious cycle: in order to live a full life this guy needs to let go of his need to control his brother in order to keep said brother safe, but this guy’s low self-esteem keeps him afraid that if he let’s go of his brother he won’t like what he’s left with - his sense of self is so badly skewed by his codependency.

What makes this cycle so tragic is that, in this guy, there is a sincere longing for stability, for a hearth and a home. His obsessive compulsive love for his car - putting aside how the precious vehicle was inherited from the boys’ father - ties a direct line to this longing. The Impala is the only constant sense of a home this guy has ever had, the only thing in his life that represents that stability which he deep, deep, deep down yearns for.

The anger he has carried around with him - anger over his mother’s death, over his mother’s choices, over his lost childhood, over his brother leaving and going off to college, over dragging his brother back into hunting (regardless of how ultimately it was the brother’s choice to stay), anger over the need to keep his brother close, the inability to allow his brother that normal life the brother keeps stating he wants because he himself can’t relate to it, no matter how much this guy wants stability, a hearth and a home, because he doesn’t think it’s for him, he can’t see that he deserves it - all of this anger, the final thing he inherited from his father, the foremost emotion in his chest, the one that’s kept him fighting when he could’ve just given up, is the one thing he will have to reconcile with if he’s ever to combine his want (the external motivation for his journey) with his real need (the internal goal of that journey).

This reconciliation would then result in his external motivation to save people by hunting things coexisting with his internal goal - that of finding stability through acknowledging his buried emotions, and in learning how to actually deal with them gaining the reward of living a long, and happy, life. He just needs someone to guide him in the right direction.

Castiel

“We’re making it up as we go.”

So we have this angel, whose first appearance makes him seem like he’s the centre of a lightening storm, something charged and threatening about to strike our Leading Man down, who tells our Leading Man that God has work for him, turning his entire world upside down and inside out and then disappearing as suddenly as he appeared: this angel is our Love Interest.

For our Leading Man, getting to know this angel is a slow process. Getting to trust him is an even slower one. There’s an ever lingering sense of danger surrounding him, on top of which his unpredictability and continuous refusal to adhere to, or even try to adopt, human behaviour makes it difficult to suss out exactly where his loyalties lie. This angel forces our Leading Man into violence because Heaven commands it, this angel turns his back on him for the same reason, resulting in our Leading Man beginning to seriously mistrust Heaven. Then, just like that, this angel actually hears him, properly, and perhaps it’s for the first time, perhaps it isn’t, but this angel breaks ranks and chooses, of all things, to fight by the side of our Leading Man against everything and everyone this angel has ever known. Our Leading Man doesn’t fully comprehend what this means, and how could he? After all, he’s is only human - but he does know some things.

He knows that this angel has been around since the dawn of life on Earth, has captained a garrison of angels and has fought the armies of Hell to save our Leading Man from himself; this angel, who appears in the human vessel of a humble, trench-coated salesman, but whose true form has six feathered wings and is as tall as the Chrysler building and will burn the eyes out of our Leading Man’s skull if he looks directly at it, whose true voice can give our Leading Man a weeklong headache and blow every light for half a mile, who can bend time, travel across the planet in the blink of an eye, who appears and disappears without warning or goodbyes, who understands nothing of human emotion because angels don’t experience them, who invades our Leading Man’s dreams, demands his respect and obedience and trust, who’s commanding in ways previously unknown to our Leading Man because this angel is something he’s always assumed was nothing but a fairy tale of light to put fear in the darkness of the world; this angel, who makes our Leading Man feel, for the first time, that he’s not alone, because this angel keeps turning up, keeps choosing to step in, to intervene, to help. This angel’s faith and power is infectious and it fills our Leading Man with a tentative, but very real, hope that there’s something more, to everything.

Despite all these jaw dropping qualities, our Leading Man begins to see that this angel also has flaws - just like him. Those first impressions, the ones of angels being creatures of complete focus, no hesitation, utter perfection, begin to rip at the seams. Our Leading Man witnesses how the arrogance of fighting under Heaven’s flag can too quickly become hubris, and the very real need to help people can too easily veer into helping them at any cost, even when the risk is that the cost to the innocent will be a great one. In spite of this, our Leading Man can’t help but see beyond these flaws, to the heart behind the choices, to that beating humanity, the one that tethers the angel to Earth like a rope. (Of course, our Leading Man doesn’t see that he’s the one holding the other end of it.)

This angel is a soldier and a warrior who throws himself into danger without a moment’s hesitation, who sacrifices his life for friends and for strangers, who helps rip up the script his Father wrote so long ago and who chooses free will over ever falling in line again, but his disregard for his own life and his own safety, with his own worth tied only to what he can do for others, rather than taking stock of what he wants, who he is and who he could be, is holding him back. His sense of duty is so deeply imbedded in his personality that he’s set adrift without it, so adrift that he actually believes himself to be expendable, and now he’s torn between loyalties: those formed through eons of time to Heaven, and those formed through learning who he could choose to be and what he could have as a human man.

He’ll need to make a choice between them and stick with it if he’s to combine his want (the external motivation for his journey) with his need (the internal goal for his journey). The choice of humanity would result in his external motivation: to help people - coexisting with his internal goal: that of letting go of duty and fully embracing free will in order to gain the reward of living a long, and happy, life. He just needs to learn his lessons first.

So, to Round Off

With our Leading Man and our Love Interest defined we have the foundation for our Love Story. With their character traits, their strengths and flaws, firmly in place, the source for conflict - the root of their much needed growth - is clear. Now all that’s left is setting them on parallel paths, allowing them to challenge each other and learn from one another. Here’s where their joint journey begins.

[adventuretaryn]

Linguistics 101

Hey guys! first off, this isn’t technically linguistics 101 this is a Ling220 class, based off of english grammar. its a requirement class that I need for college, and I feel like many linguists and future linguists might like some of my notes. also, I really hate how pretty the format once was, but then tumblr was like NO

Also this is a realllllyyyy long post lmao. 

                         chp.1: the study of grammar

English: a world language

⅓ of the population -globally- uses english as a way to communicate.

English, overall, is a very easy medium for people to use and is sometimes the only option.

English tells a multitude of tales, all of them referring to dialects.

The shared linguistic features of a group of people, often one from a particular region or of a particular ethnic or social background.

Take for example: southerners say y’all, mid westerners say ‘you’uns’

B. three definitions of grammar

These are just broad definitions to help provide framework for later chapters.

The system of rules in our heads.

You bring a lifetime of “knowing” how to make sentences. This subconscious set of interconnected rules is your “language competence.”

Recognize that these internalized rules vary from one language to another.

2. The formal description of the rules

Refers to the formal description of language, the subject matter of books, which identify in an objective way the form and structure  (See syntax) of sentences.

Applies when you say “I’m studying grammar this semester.”

3. The conventions of common usage, sometimes called linguistic etiquette.

Called the do’s and don’ts of usage, rather than grammar.

Using certain words may be thought of as bad manners in particular contexts.

Syntax: the structure of sentences: the relationship of the parts of the sentence.

C. traditional school grammar

A model, based on latin’s eight parts of speech, goes far back as the middle ages, when latin was the language of culture and enlightenment.

In many grammar books and classes, lessons tend to focus on parts of speech, their definitions, rules for combining them into phrases and clauses and sentence exercises.

1762, robert lowth, prof of poetry at oxford and the bishop of london, published a short introduction to english grammar - a book that greatly influenced the way grammar would be taught in the US and ENgland for yeaarsssss.

Today, we refer to the type of grammar the lowth championed as prescriptive grammar.

These rules are not the rules you have internalized, ascribable in great to your everyday exposure to language.

Rather, these rules have been established by an authority. Usually have to be consciously learned.

D. Studying grammar today

Since the 1920’s a great deal of linguistic research has been carried out by anthropologists studying Native American languages. Many are in danger of being lost.

To understand the structure underlying languages unknown to them, researchers do not assume that the language they are studying is related to Latin or to the germanic roots.

Nor assume that word classes like adjectives, pronouns, etc resemble those in english.

Not only has these methods changed, methods for teaching and learning it have changed as well.

In the past, students could expect to memorize terms and concepts, and do exercises.

Today, students will encounter a range of activities.

Memorization, repetition, and error correction.

In many grammar classes, learning about the structure of the language is also connected to learning how to write.

Together with the teacher, they now study the grammatical choices writers make and the effects of these choices.

May also learn grammar concepts connected to a specific reading or writing assignment or describe the way applying a grammar principle improves an essay.

E. Language variety and the issue of correctness

Can you make a distinction between…

Grammar 2 ( an objective, situation specific description of language)

Grammar 3 ( general linguistic etiquette)

Even dictionaries recognize variation in the use of ENglish.

Some use a thing called usage notes.  (brief summaries on usage issues)

Designed to offer guidance, rather than prescribe hard and fast rules

What about the difference between…

Grammar 1 (the internal rules of grammar)

Grammar 3

For example: you may have assumed pronouncements about ain’t with incorrect or ungrammatical english, but they don’t

Ain’t = am not.  The same rule that gives us isn’t & aren’t.

So basically, it's an issue of status

The word standard is objectionable when applied to a particular dialect, given that every dialect is standard within its own speech community.

But here, we’re using it for the public dialect. The one that is used in newscast, formal business transactions, etc.

Edited American English is the version of our language that has come to be the standard for written public discourse -books, newspapers, etc - and most of the writing you do in school and on the job.

The version of our language that this book describes, the written version of the status dialect as evolves through the centuries and continues to do so.

Ungrammatical: usage that does not conform to the rules that native speakers follow. Varies from one dialect or speech community to another is not necessarily ungrammatical.

F. Language Change

Closely related to the issue of correctness and standards is language change.

So basically, if you were to look at two passages of a story, say Pinocchio, and one passage was from the 1920’s and the other say 2011 you will be able to see the differences in words. Though the 20’s is more fancy, but we don’t use slang like that lmao.

G. language in the classroom

National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE)

Taken the position that teachers should respect the dialects of their students.

Code switching is the practice of alternating between two or more languages or varieties of language in conversation.

When teachers use this, they have notable success in helping students not only to acquire standard english as a second dialect but also to understand in a conscious way the underlying rules of their home language.

They also recommend the integration of language awareness into classroom instruction and teacher preparation programs. Language awareness includes:

Examining how language varies in a range of social and cultural settings

How people’s attitudes toward language vary across cultures

Classes, genders and generations

How oral & written language affects listeners and readers

How “correctness” in language reflects social, political & economic values

How first & second language languages are acquired.

Also includes the teaching of grammar from a descriptive rather than a prescriptive, perspective.

so that concludes chapter 1! stay tuned and I’ll post chapter 2