#we are ALL flawed in a myriad of ways and need to be able to accept people have flaws and are still Good and Worth existing

[mejomonster]

i’m not good with words so i probably won’t describe it right. but the black/white mentality online sometimes of things with any flaws being ‘pure evil/need to be destroyed’ and expecting the alternative to be whatever arbitrary things the person decided are ‘perfectly healthy’... does not do anyone good.

i mean yes, we could go into it being an extension of purity culture, of conservatism mindset etc but like. at an even more basic level, especially because online spaces have a lot of younger people:

its really bad to view YOURSELF that way. and when you’re viewing even things way outside you that way, you might be viewing yourself that way. that relationship in X novel is bad because person 1 didn’t communicate right away, and even if they learn and improve through the novel you’ve already decided they’re “too flawed”, or maybe the person 1 never fully improves since its a novel and ‘awful’ to ‘moderately decent at relationships’ is the arc instead of moderately decent to ‘perfect.’ 

But my point is, about yourself: no one is perfect. You will NEVER be perfect. Please don’t hold yourself to the expectation you MUST BE PERFECT and anything less makes you pure evil/irredeemable/awful and unworthy of being treated fairly. The best anyone can do in this life, is try their best, notice when they do happen to mess up or someone lets them know they have, and practice trying to do better next time. You can improve yourself for a lifetime, for decades go to therapy and do all the right exercises and work on yourself every time you slip up even a little AND give yourself breaks so you don’t work yourself to death being overly critical of yourself nonstop... and still by your death you won’t be perfect. 

When I see people get very intensely angry about fiction being imperfect, about wanting it ‘perfect,’ it makes me worry maybe they can’t take and accept their own imperfections. That they see themselves as pure good or evil too, and either naively think of themselves as “perfect” which leads to ignoring when you do actually harm others or yourself (which will happen sometimes), or think of themselves already as irredeemably bad and never able to fix it (since any imperfection even if working on it is “not good enough” according to such a thought process). And that’s an awful way to live. You need to be able to care for yourself NOW, think you’re worthy of respect and fairness NOW, think others critiques of you can be put to constructive use so you can grow, think of yourself as the sum of all the years of growing and improving you ALREADY DID and how that’s a wonderful amazing thing you’ve accomplished! 

This purity culture idea just seems like its very prone to making the people sucked into it self hate because humans just never can be fully perfect, or sucked into never improving and growing and rejecting times they maybe should for their own wellbeing because admitting they have any flaws makes them forever ‘awful.’ That’s not true. You’re not inherently bad, period. You’re not bad for having flaws, you’re normal and human and alive. It’s okay to have flaws, its okay to gradually work on them because humans can only improve so much at a time, its okay to realize 2 decades later that oh you still have this negative thing you do and then maybe work on it then. The reality is we will never be perfect, we will still find our share of some kinds of flaws when we’re very old and about to die, and we need to be able to accept ourselves and appreciate the progress we constantly make and recognize we are valuable and inherently okay as people even when there are still flaws or new flaws come up. 

#rant #basically just. if you view yourself with purity culture. u can hurt yourself very badly #and when u start seeing your outside world as black white pure good pure bad? then its a slippery slope to viewing #yourself and other real people that way #in reality? a parent can be very loving and healthy and STILL fuck you up a little and still need to work on it until they're 60 #in reality? you could've had divorced or absent parents and that made you play out #subconcious abandonment issues on your crushes in high school and the truth is you WERE a jerk #but you werent 'pure evil' you were simply doing all you knew how to naturally do at the time #and you simply could Not have done better until someone or yourself NOTICED you were acting out your abandonment issues #and even once you work on those issues in therapy or self help? it will be a lifetime of those traits instilled from childhood #rearing their ugly head to some degree. not enough to be a jerk anymore yay #but enough that you still might get irrationally jealous. or irrationally fearful when someone is emotionally close #we don't ever become 100% perfect and we cant expect ourselves or others to be #we are ALL flawed in a myriad of ways and need to be able to accept people have flaws and are still Good and Worth existing #because we ARE flawed people. everyone we know is #when we put some people on a pedestal as perfect we lie to ourselves and hurt ourselves and everyone else

[snurgle07]

Say all your psychonauts 2 thoughtS

All of them huh? I think about this game so much, I’d be here all day, but this certainly gives me a good excuse to ramble about some things I love about pn2. :D

- The characters are amazing! 10/10 I care about pretty much all of those freaks. The art style makes them all look so charming in a lopsided weird sort of way, and the game is so empathetic to everyone that even the characters we don’t get much of or who serve a limited purpose still feel well rounded and real.

- Raz is excellent. He’s loads of fun in the first game and continues to be a blast in the second. He’s even more adorable and earnest in the sequel and I love that for him!! He’s definitely one of my favorite characters of all time, I adore him.

- Adoring the characters goes for everyone though. And pn2 has a whole new cast of characters who are all super fun in their own ways. The Psychic 7 especially are super cool. My biggest soft spot is for Lucy, but I love Bob, Ford, and well, the rest of the seven really, a whole lot. Getting to meet the Aquatos is also awesome, and the interns are cool too. Lotsa cool groups of characters to enjoy.

- The story? Awesome. Feels grander than pn1 to be honest, and I like that, but also it’s completely great on its own. It’s got loads of mind shenanigans, drama, great mental health commentary, and manages to balance out all the trauma with enough healing and empathy and even a bit of humor that it all still feels nice and hopeful despite everything. Like yeah there’s a lot of angst material certainly, and as a fan I gotta love that, buuuut sometimes I need a piece of media to punch me in the gut and then give me a warm hug afterward.

- On the note of mental health stuff, I feel it did great. It’s noticeable that they talked to experts and people with personal experience. They were able to convey the mindscapes of certain traumas and mental health issues with more accuracy. The first game was certainly empathetic and kind in regards to that, which was a big deal at the time, buuuut the accuracy was a bit lacking back then. Pn1 shows it’s age a bit in that regard. Pn2 improves on that wonderfully with both kind and more researched explorations into the mind.

-The morals regarding the complexity of the human mind and the messiness of humanity and how we often make mistakes and have more to us under the surface… heroes are often flawed, villains may just be a version of a person we made up in our mind based off of our limited perceptions… aughh good stuff. There are so many good takeaways from psychonauts 2 and I love it!

- Also on a more personal note, I probably owe this game my fascination with psychic powers and psychics in fiction. It’s tangentially what got me into Mob Psycho 100, and has inspired me to make some psychic ocs. The art direction really impacted me and even the way I draw. My style has opened up so much more since practicing drawing such funky looking characters. I genuinely think it has helped me improve a lot and helped me discover more about what kinds of art style I adore and inspired my own. The gameplay too, alongside the art direction, has impacted my aspirations a lot as far as being an artist and hopefully to work in game design— which is to say it’s super inspiring! I think it can inspire people in a myriad of ways, it’s a very unique game like that, and it really reminds me why I love art, storytelling, and games so much. I genuinely feel I owe it a lot for a variety of reasons and I’ve seen many others who play it feel the same. :)

TLDR: Psychonauts 2 my beloved…

Thanks for the ask! I will never not want to talk about psychonauts, this game is sticking in my brain for good.

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #shut up snurgle

[navree]

FAVORITE MOVIES OF ALL TIME!

I'll give a Top Four like those people on the red carpet do.

The Lion King. It's the first movie I ever watched and it's genuinely terrific in every sense from story to animation to music to cinematic production, it's perfect. And it's also one of the first ways I was able to bond with my dad, because he's the one who started playing it for me when I was a baby (my dad was studying for the bar while I was an infant so he was the one responsible for taking care of me while my mom worked, it's why I am the way I am honestly) and every time my dad and I visit a city with a theater district, we go see the play.

Rebecca. Obviously, the Hitchcock version, not the dumb remake. It's just sheer perfection, it's so good, and the cast is so brilliant, and Hitchcock, for all his myriad faults, was a phenomenal filmmaker. Plus, I mean, the leads are Joan Fontaine and Laurence fucking Olivier, enough said.

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time. This is one hundred percent a guilty pleasure pick, but I've loved this movie ever since it came out. Like, yes, it's got flaws, and also they did cast Jake Gyllenhaal and Gemma Arterton, slathered them in spray tan, and expected us to marvel at these clear Persians, but I like it. I like everything about it and I was so into it when it first came out I straight up had it memorized.

Doctor Sleep. Movie of all time. I wrote a whole mini-essay for a class once about all the ways I loved this movie, both on its own and as an adaptation with a very hard job. But the cast is terrific (Ewan McGregor and Rebecca Ferguson and Bruce Greenwood, plus everyone else, hell yeah) and Flanagan is such a gifted director and overall storyteller, it's what got me onto his stuff.

and some top three honorable mentions:

Anchorman and really just any Will Ferrell movie, but my dad and I quote Anchorman to each other so much.

Dune (2021). I really enjoyed all of it, at some point I need to get around to watching Part Two.

If documentaries count, 30 for 30: The Price of Gold (god tier) and if they don't, I've been rewatching the second Fear Street movie recently and it's still great.

#personal #answered #anonymous #picking favorites is always hard for me but i'm pretty set on those as my top four #and lion king just Is my favorite that's not changing

[a-heart-of-flame]

hi, i’m g and would love to know about my FS if possible. i’m just curious since i have yet to experience romantic love, and even though i’m fine with that, i still find myself asking if that’s going to happen for me or not. some details about me is that i’m an aqua sun, cap moon, and virgo rising. tysm<3 ^_^

Hello G c: Thank you for requesting a reading from me! Below the cut is your reading, and if you have any feedback for me once you've gone through it I would love to hear it ♥

You write that you've yet to experience romantic love and you're OK with that. I cannot tell you when or if this will happen to you as I don't predict the future with my readings but I made 2 questions that might offer you some useful advice regarding romance c: My questions became "What might bring romance closer?" and "What might keep romance at bay?". Ultimately it is up to you to pursue or avoid romance based on your own needs and desires, and so these questions allow advice to be given to you depending on what you feel you need or want to do regarding romantic connections! c:

[Top Row] What might bring romance closer to G? If you choose to pursue romantic connections one way it will come easier to you is if you learn to accept, with joy, all of the things that come along with interacting with other people. People have baggage, personalities and behaviours that can sometimes be difficult to deal with, and it can cause us to sometimes think it's simply not worth the hassle. If you want to pursue a romantic connection though, you will need to be able to accept another person "warts and all" as the saying goes. People are not perfect, they make mistakes and they can annoy us or anger us. Connection to others can still be a beautiful thing. When we embrace each other's imperfections and flaws. When we decide to let others in, and are allowed into others; that is a truly wonderous and joyus gift.

[Bottom Row] What might keep romance at bay? We might not want to pursue romantic connection for a myriad of reason and that's totally valid as well. Some things that you could focus on instead of romance if you decide it's simply not for you is yourself. Sounds obvious perhaps but focusing on ourselves can be a very vague concept, in this particular reading it suggests that you might wish to hold on to who you are and not bend for the sake of a relationship. Being true to you means you live authentically as yourself and explore whatever you want to explore without the restriction of taking a partner into consideration. You may also focus strongly on a career of some kind, building and creating first and foremost. Perhaps you have a creative job already, or perhaps you have a dream to work with something such as art, writing, music, jewelry making, smithing, carpentry etc. This could be a wonderful focus for a "life's work" and purpose that does not include romance. Much Love, Safi

#safi tarot #tarot reading #G #tarot #ask

[delusion-of-negation]

Ex feminist/sjw here. I can confirm that using discourse as a way to process trauma will fuck you up even more and you'll start losing touch with the real world. And there's also knowing that people you consider friends will turn on you the moment you have a ""bad"" opinion or forget to tag an extremely specific trigger you weren't aware of, which is literal hell if you have paranoia or a fear of abandonment. I cannot express how much talking to regular people offline helped me.

I think this is re these, but I'm not 100% sure, feel free to correct

it could also just be a reblog I've forgotten about, like this post

yeah, having real friends, offline or online, who won't just drop you over shit is important. I know it's popular on here to say "actually politics is an extremely valid thing to drop someone over" and to an extent that's true - if someone thinks you shouldn't have the right to get married and is always ranting about how people like you destroy the western world, totally valid to go "yeah that's not good for my health", but it really can't apply to every little thing. I have a trans friend who's had actual real life arguments with people who get pissy when they find out she still reads Harry Potter, despite it being a huge part of her journey that she's just not ready to drop over the author being a bitch. and that sucks. as humans, we want unconditional love, because we all have some fucked up part of ourselves, or some frustrating flaws, or some opinions that are wrong, or outdated, or right but against the grain, or some weird grey area - and we're all well aware of a part of ourselves like that, everybody reading this has a thing that they're going "yeah, if I posted this right now I'd be getting hate for days (or more)", and we're hardwired to wish even that part could be loved, y'know? I have really fucking bad paranoia, although not as much fear of abandonment (obviously total abandonment by everyone or a couple of specific people is still not something I'd be anywhere near happy about, I just have a LOT of paranoia so almost anything is minor by comparison), and it's a blessing when you find people you really can say anything to - I only have a couple of people who know my darkest secret, mostly online people but one who's stayed at my house and that was the only time I've ever said it explicitly aloud that I recall, and that is probably one of the best moments of my life in a weird way. it was a joke one of us made that referenced it, and it was so casual and non-judgemental, and I never thought I'd be able to have those sounds in the air without the whole world exploding, y'know? you can't process things in the same way when you're just yelling at people online, you can't trust the ever-dramatic hellscape of discord servers, full of people who care more about keeping the colour they earned their name being than having your back, to be a reliable and consistent group of friends. you need unconditional love from a myriad of sources - eg a dog, a best friend, a partner, a bro, and yourself. as fun as arguing online can be, and as valid as friendships somehow forged in the fiery pits of discord hell can be, it's not all there is to life. sometimes I get too online, and I have to step away because a whole day has disappeared to a couple of tumblr arguments and some random fun chats on discord, and whenever there's drama in a discord server I've learnt to step away unless it's absolutely necessary for me to butt in to try to drag everybody back to the real world where "they were caught liking trans porn that had a slur in the title!!" is only considered a problem to people who take issue with the existence of trans porn or what it means about the viewer's sexuality, not with the wording of the title (that's just a hypothetical but it's not an exaggeration). it's important to have people in your life who aren't going to leave you over dumb shit, and it's important to be that person to others, because if we're all dropping anyone who steps out of line and ostracising them then we end up in a "first they came for the furries and I said nothing" scenario (I know that's not the original, I just like that version), and folks get left out in the cold without people who love them. and it's important to go to the people who love you, especially irl, when shit hits the fan and you're not coping well, because going deeper and deeper into the often damaging coping mechanism of internet politics is only, as anon says, gonna hurt you more.

[stopeatingwhales]

vinyl searching (pt. 2) x graham coxon

here’s the second part, hope you guys like it! there’s something about 1999 graham that i just love so much, and i know he was struggling during this time so i wanted to write about caring for him because he clearly needed it during this time. 

Pairing: 1999! graham coxon x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 3.166

part one

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Me and Graham decided on meeting in a small bar on the same road, a couple hours later in the evening. Once my shift was over, I had scurred off to my little flat in order to put together an outfit that was appropriate. I didn’t want to wear something that was too overtly sexual - hell, I wouldn’t even have the courage to be able to wear something like that - so I decided upon wearing an oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans. Very 90s. However, me meeting up with Graham was probably going to be more for him than it was for me - although I was so happy that me and him finally were able to take our ‘friendship’ somewhere outside of the small record shop that he sees all my life in, it was very evident that he was in need of someone to be there for him. Now, understanding his demeanor and overall attitude to things from the multiple times that we had conversated, I had hoped to be the one that he needed. Although there was many time I could’ve attempted such a gathering previously, you never know when would be the right moment to chip in and attempt to portray the care that you have stored internally for that significant person, and how they would react to that. For Graham it was a much more awkward situation; the only times of our communication were technically only professional, from a worker providing help and service to a customer. That was how esoteric we were to one another - practically known strangers. If I had come across Graham in a supermarket and he had noticed me, chances are that we wouldn’t interact, the only communication we would be able to branch out to one another being a simple ‘Oh hi! You alright?’. You had to build a sort of relationship with someone over a period of time in order to be able to do something like I did, and that is minusing the amount of nerves you'd have, as well as the courage you’d have to give yourself.

After I had finished with my constant worrying about how this meet-up was going to turn out, I left the house to go to the bar. The walk there felt as if I had been repeating the same events that had occurred during the day, just at a different moment in time. Hardly anybody was in the streets, which was quite ordinary at this hour of day, though it always seemed as if nobody left their homes. As I walked past countless convenience stores, hairdressers and fast-food places, which proved to show there was residency above them from the brick wall built on top, contrasted against windows placed as an outlook to life, very ironically used as to convey that nobody was ever leaving their homes, it proved to me just how mundane and repetitive life had become. The distance apart between each sheet of glass to the one adjacent to it being monochrome. Constant. Unchanging. Almost how all of our lives have been built to follow a system of continuous, resolute living, perpetually ignoring how it forces our lives, that have so much undermined potential, to be wasted, to the point we are simply dependent on enjoying life as we admire it. From a window in our bedroom, to which it becomes boring - as all you are ‘admiring’ is the same sight, every single time. And though this way of living may not be satisfactory, or enjoyable in the slightest, protesting against it would not do anything. Strikes from work would not do anything; you still need to live, and to live you need to earn money, money earned from working. It’s a ceaseless cycle which destroys the mere idea of a dream, aspiration, or motivation to carry on. In turn, what is received is the attractiveness of sadness, distress, and melancholy. You cannot shame those for being addicted to something harmful; if there is no point created for their lives except to be a little pawn on the chessboard of this planet, to take a risk and rebel against it is all you can do - though it would only put you in a situation which can cause more harm than good to yourself.

Once I had arrived at the bar, I decided to wait by the entrance so there would not cause confusion for Graham as to whether I was inside the building or not. I had noticed the skies begin to significantly darken in their calming shades of blue, instigating the advent of the evening to commence, however it was not dark enough to see sparkles in the empyrean yet. Though it was beautiful to stare at the single-coloured canvas, questioning the mere idea as to how it had formed such a shade of peace, but also existentially questioning how things come to be. Nevertheless, my admiration for the skies was quickly interrupted. “Hi y/n.”

Shifting my head into alignment with his, I had been greeted by the sight of Graham, facial expression clearly evident of nervousness, though it was attempted to be masked from a small smile curving on the corner of his lip. I noticed he was still in the same clothing as he had been in our previous encounter at the record shop earlier in the day, which caused a grin to paint itself on my facial expression. “Hi Graham,” I chriped, connecting eyes with him for a second, widening my smile that was already plastered on my face. “Let’s go inside.”

Inside the bar was nothing much I hadn’t expected; smoke surrounding the atmosphere from cigarettes, and due to the time being early, the place wasn’t as crowded, but you’d assume it to be from the clouds of smoke that welcomed you once you pushed the door open - you could hardly see the lengthy oak wood table separating you from the myriad amount of drinks that could be supplied to you by a simple asking. Ushering over to the nearest booth available, me and Graham sat opposite each other. The booths were always much more comfortable to sit and relax in, the cushioning of the sofa was almost that of a pillow; it was so cozy it was hard not to fall asleep on them. It was a much better choice of seating rather than the tall timber stools attached to the bar. I never found it appealing to sit there and have a chat with someone; it felt as if my privacy had been snatched away with ears surrounding every place my eyes could land upon. It's a much more peaceful atmosphere in a booth, which I had assumed would be a preferable place for Graham, shown from his quiet demeanour. His quietness was something that engaged me so deeply into him as a person - he wasn’t the type to rush to the bar, get drunk, and go off with the first person he had seen, who he hadn’t properly connected with or perhaps spoken to at all. He was much more down to earth, potentially from the amount of fame he had gained over the past couple years; it makes those yearn for silence, and in turn changes their perspectives and outlooks on simple things like outings with friends, for some may avoid them at all costs out of anxiety and fear of being noticed. You’d think that’s the absolute of their desires, being famous, stealing the hearts of so many, but it becomes so much more than that. The press picking out every ‘flaw’ you have or things that you do, the crowds of youngsters dying to get an autograph as if their lives depend on it, the paparazzi perpetually flicking their cameras only because you trotted on the same street to go to the same shop that every normal person goes to… The amount of eyes constantly on you gets overwhelming. I empathised with those who turned to drugs and alcohol to escape horrible feelings like these. Just like Graham.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” I asked Graham sweetly, my smile still on my face.

“Yeah sure, I’ll have a beer.” He responded, our eyes glued to one another's which made me notice the eyebags that had drooped onto the top of his cheeks; it was very evident that he had attempted to nap before meeting me, which made my heart swell out of pity for him - it was obvious he was struggling to even sleep these days.

I nodded before heading to the bar and ordering our drinks. Waiting for our drinks at the bar gave me time to think over everything that was currently happening. It felt as if my entire day had vanished to this one moment where I had unexpectedly landed myself ordering beverages at a bar with the one and only Graham Coxon. It was a wonder to think about how he was feeling at this current moment. He didn't seem as if he was doing well at the moment, he always seemed so exhausted, and his social skills had become very poor over a couple of weeks. It went from him being very calm and candid in our short encounters, slyly recommending each other music with subtle hints of our liking toward each other, to him forming a much more apparent stutter in comparison to the one he already had, as well as being unable to connect eyes with me for a interminable period of time - it was evident that things were progressively getting worse for him, though I wasn’t going to force him into speaking about anything. I just wanted him to be aware that he had at least a friend there for him, potentially that being the girl that he would always see at his local record store.

Walking over back to the booth, I handed him his pint of beer. “Thank you,” he mustered, almost instantly taking a sip from it before noticing the drink I had bought for myself. “Orange juice?”

I laughed slightly at his shocked reaction as I lit myself a cigarette and took a hit from it, him definitely not expecting that of all drinks. “I don’t really like to drink, it never makes me feel that good.”

“But you smoke?” He questioned, a confused expression plastered on his face, paired with a grin.

“Smoking helps with stress, alcohol makes you drunk and gives you hangovers which simply ruin your day,” I answered back, taking a sip from my drink. “Also orange juice is literally the best juice, alcohol tastes like shit you know.”

A small chuckle escaped out of Graham’s throat, causing my eyes to land back onto him again. I gained the perception that he felt somewhat better about actually speaking with someone, which made me feel so touched and taken aback; I had genuinely felt my heart skip a beat out of sadness and yearning for him. He genuinely deserved better than what was going on with him mentally and physically, and the fact that he couldn’t even celebrate the release of his band’s 6th album was paining - he couldn’t attend a lot of the sessions, not out of detest towards any of his band members, but because he mentally couldn’t bring himself to. He was isolating himself without realising, or he may have realised, but couldn’t do anything to stop it. “I must agree on that… But orange juice is too sweet,” He replied, scoffing. “It’s definitely not that much better than a pint of beer, love.”

Shaking my head out of offense towards his last remark, I inhaled my cigarette once again before exposing the smoke from my lungs. Diverting my stare to the ashtray in the middle of the booth, I examined the built-up ash on the tip from the roll of tobacco crumble off from a single flick of the wrapped up paper. “Anyways, how are you?” I asked him, simultaneously offering him a cigarette whilst doing so to avoid any awkwardness.

After taking a cigarette from the packet I owned, then lighting it, he answered. “I’m alright. What about you?”

“Apart from being offended by you saying orange juice is gross, I’m alright too,” I joked, earning another laugh from Graham. “You seem tired.”

Sighing slightly, I watched him scan the room before answering. “Yeah, I am. What gave that away?”

“Your eye bags, you look like you haven’t slept,” I responded, hoping that what was leaving my mouth wouldn’t come across as offensive in any way. “Not in a rude way, though.”

“In all honesty, I haven’t really been able to sleep recently. Not a clue why.” He replied, taking a hit from his cigarette before copying my actions from earlier and erasing the gathered dust onto the ashtray.

“Oh, I understand that,” I said, taking a long drag of the cancer stick before replying. “Same thing happens to me when I’m stressed.”

As the night went on, we spoke about all sorts of things, trying to get to know one another much more as we were so intrigued by each other’s presence. Over time, he opened up much more, his poise changing from being a quiet, dismal, bereaved person, isolated from society, to one that seemed as if he was enjoying himself by hanging out with a friend. Seeing a beam constantly illustrated on his face made me realise this outing meant more than just ‘meeting a friend’. It was leaving the house for the first time in ages, to simply have a good time with someone. He was gentrifying the bare human emotions that he had forgotten were calloused out of anger inside himself. The atmosphere is much different when we’re separated by the till in the record store, the only conversations we could tend to have surrounding music or the weather that day. I felt so much more connected to Graham in this given moment, and knowing that he was gaining pleasure from this made me feel so much happier. Finally, he seemed content, relaxed, and much more aware of his surroundings, not caught up entirely by his mind and the evilness that he would be manipulated by. It was as if from this simple meet-up, he had realised that there was so much more to life than staying at home, pent up with his own thoughts; to his dismay. And though it can be extremely difficult to overcome the hurdles of not believing everything your brain implements to your mind, the important part was that he was making progress. By merely speaking with another person, about topics completely contrasting the negativity resident in his brain, it takes his mind off of things, and would allow the realisation that he is able to overcome these struggles, with the right support.

We hadn’t realised just how long we had been conversing for, until the room began pouring with young adults ready to enjoy a night with their friends. A quick glance at the clock gave the hour away; it was nearing midnight. The time was hardly wasted, we had both created a friendship and connection with one another which bloomed like roses during the spring seasons. Absolutely beautiful. I knew that what we had formed with each other would last for at least a significant amount of time, and I definitely hoped that it would. “Let’s get going, it’s getting a bit crowded right now.” I said, getting up from my seat - Graham nodding along and following me out.

There was a distinctive change in temperature inside the bar in comparison to the streets. The breeze was more prominent, with the skies now pitch black accompanied with the twinkle of the stars and the picturesque glow of the moon. We both began walking to the end of the street, having no idea what was about to occur, going along with it as if there was nothing else in the world except us two, as if it was just ours, and that nothing else mattered at all. This shared moment between us was the only thing able to plague our minds, for everything else that crossed our minds seemed to be insignificant, with no importance to our lives from here on, no matter how much it had afflicted our minds from apprehension hours prior to this moment. Oh, the vulnerable silence shared between us. How much importance it held towards aiding our minds, providing a certain mental clarity that was simply unheard of, as if a certain point of synchronicity in time was exposed between us, forming it as though, as banal as life is day-to-day was always, there was euphoria. Subconsciously, we were both communicating with each other in a sort of telepathy that was so rare in newly flourished relationships like ours. It was as if I had always been close with Graham, as if he was always a cogent figure in my life, that today was only just another catch-up session after not being able to talk with one another for a significant period of time. We both enjoyed ourselves, and there was no need to say anything about it. It felt as though if one of us spoke, it would erase all the memories of the occasion shared in the bar previously. Nothing could explain the elation my body was feeling at this time; from life seeming so meaningless and dull, experiencing something like this amount of joy came as such a shock to my body - it felt as if I had been drugged with so much alcohol that I was witnessing junctures that were only fragments of my imagination.

Stopping our slow pace at the end of the road, I turned my body to face Graham’s, him copying the same actions as me. Briefly, I stared lovingly into his eyes, a smile perched on my lips, him reciprocating with a beam, purely out of content, not mannerisms. Turning my head to stare at his hands, which awkwardly embraced one another, I mustered enough courage to form an embrace with both my palms - him slightly taken aback at first, to which he quickly went along with the moment. His hands were soft, delicate, and held warmth interlocked with mine. We simply stood there, hands laced together, inhaling the brisk air whilst slow waves of air gushed between us. Nothing could get more perfect than this. It was evident that between us, it was definitely more than a simple friendship, and it was obvious that both participants were not objecting against such passion to be compromised into something more. The action of holding his hand gave the notion that he was not alone in everything that he was undergoing; it was there for reassurance, as if it was me indirectly saying, I know you’re struggling, you don’t have to tell me, and I can tell you seem lonely, but I’m here for you. And I won’t ever leave, or let go.  

“See you soon, Graham.”

#graham coxon x reader #blur band #britpop #nineties #imagines #my writing #fluff #graham coxon #blur #fanfic #band imagines #90s

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

I wonder what Supergirl could have been if Lena had succeeded with her first attempt at using Myriad to implement Non Nocere.

Would there be surface effects that we see immediately, aside from violent crime going way down overnight? Most people you see on the street don't go out of their way to actively hurt people, so I doubt there would be a Stepford quality to Lena's new world order.

I think she might be able to forgive Kara at first, and try to start their friendship over from scratch, but honestly? I don't think Lena would be able to really move forward until she has a knock down, drag out emotional fight with Kara. They both have too much going on not to. But if Non Nocere did its job, then Kara wouldn't be capable of having that fight, nor of saying the things that need to be said. So that would leave Lena in a frustrated, miserable place of her own creation.

But also, what happens when Lena realizes that white collar crime is still a thing, and that Non Nocere didn't all of a sudden didn't make selfish people generous, so the economical imbalances that hurt people and groups are still in play? What about so-called victimless crimes? What about the corporations who engage in wage theft, who don't see their employees as people and therefore continue their unfair practices carte blanche?

Or maybe they take to the extreme and it works a little too well, exactly how Lena envisions. It creates a perfect utopia. Supergirl is no longer needed, which at first makes Lena happy, because now she can have just Kara Danvers. Except Kara soon becomes restless and unhappy, drifting without her purpose to ground her?

Basically... I wonder what Lena would have done if she had seen with her own two eyes that her plan had ramifications she couldn't predict because she'd been so myopic in her heartbreak?

I would have loved to see her coming clean to Kara and Kara immediately trying to forgive her (because she's been Non Nocere'd), only to have Lena try to force that emotional confrontation Kara's been dodging, because it's suddenly the only way to override the Non Nocere directive, and having that be the crux of getting Kara to see what Lena has done and how it's a bad thing that needs to be fixed. And discussed. Among other things. Among many, many other things.

TLDR: Non Nocere was flawed in every sense, but what if the writers hadn't been cowards about it, and actually shown us HOW it was flawed, not just mind control is bad uwu. Like, I know its never going to be discussed again, but now I kinda wanna know what it would have looked like, you know?

#non nocere #monday thoughts #im not medicated enough for this #tell me what you think #im curious

[andawaywego]

Hey!! Could you maybe write a jealous Dani fic please? I mean we all know Jamie is a catch.

she totally is. but...they both are. here you go! i hope you like it.

..

The first time that Dani ever saw Jamie—coming into the kitchen at Bly, dusty and dirty in with those rolled-back sleeves and that unaffected smirk on her lips—the sight of her knocked the breath from her chest. Even under the grime on her cheeks and the shimmer of sweat, Jamie somehow looked like a Hollywood starlet. One of those black-and-white movie stars that Dani grew up fascinated by. Her curly brown hair brushing the tops of her shoulders, her eyes happy and bright, even the pink shape of her mouth and the pale column of her neck. It was almost hard to look at.

Of course, Dani kept that to herself for a little while. It wasn’t as if she’d never thought of girls as beautiful before—or that she hadn’t daydreamed about them every so often. It was that Jamie was a colleague, an associate, and someone she saw practically every day. Throw in the added bonus of Dani having just lost her fiancé who was haunting her, the mess that was everything Flora and Miles, and all the rest and it’s amazing that they found each other at all, really.

But then they’d kissed and Jamie hadn’t run even when Dani had and it was as if she came even more beautiful every time Dani became aware of something else in this hard world that tried to put her down. The lines beneath her eyes were something she caught herself staring at, that scowl she came to love a near-permanent fixture on Jamie’s face. The way she looked in the summer sun, pruning roses and wiping the sweat from her forehead. It was...a lot.

And Dani is only human. Of course she thought Jamie was beautiful the moment she first saw her, just as she knows she is now. It’s a truth she’s come to live with: Jamie is absolutely breathtaking, even on her worst day.

And she would absolutely roll her eyes if Dani ever said that aloud.

It’s been thirteen months since that first day at Bly and Jamie is still beautiful, yes. All the time.

But Dani isn’t the only one who notices that.

Of course she isn’t. She could be so lucky.

Jamie has had a myriad of smitten fans since they opened The Leafling—teenage girls shopping for corsages who aren’t sure what to make of her winning smile and winking eyes; men who come in shopping for wives, or girlfriends, or mothers and trail after her around the store as she suggests different arrangements; even little boys who come in with their parents who turn bright red the moment Jamie greets them.

And Dani knows it shouldn’t bother her. No matter who it is that’s fallen under Jamie’s spell, she’s the one that goes home with her at night. She’s the one who knows what it’s like to touch Jamie and kiss her and be loved by her in return. It isn’t as if she owns Jamie—you can’t be the property of someone else.

But again: she’s human. She has flaws.

And one of them is the bitter knot of jealousy in her chest as she watches the bearded guy—who’s come in three times in the last week—listen to Jamie describe the meanings of different rose types.

He’s handsome enough—tall and blue-eyed with a dimple in his left cheek that’s put on display every time he smiles. And he smiles a lot at Jamie as she speaks. Every so often, he’ll say something Dani can’t quite hear from her spot behind the counter—working on an arrangement for someone’s recently-engaged daughter—and Jamie will laugh, this genuine, joyful noise that never fails to make Dani’s stomach bottom out.

“What about pink, then?” the man asks and Dani narrowed eyes bore holes into the back of his head. “If red means love and desire.”

There’s a quality to his voice when he says this that sort of makes Dani want to smack him across the face. Briefly, she imagines going over and forcing herself into the interaction—wrapping her arm around Jamie’s waist and pulling her tightly into her side. Glaring daggers until the man gets the hint and stops his incessant and completely unsubtle flirtations.

“Well, they can mean a lot of things,” Jamie begins, and her voice trails off in a list of the different emotions that pink can convey. The familiar cadence of her voice washes over Dani’s ears, making her mind calm a little, her hands steady.

Her ears still feel hot, yes, and her chest tight, but she forces herself to watch Jamie’s profile as she talks. The way she moves her hands. The smile on her face that’s always there when she’s discussing something she’s passionate about.

She’s mesmerizing, really. Sometimes it’s like Dani can’t even think clearly because of it.

Her eyes trail down Jamie’s neck to the collar of her shirt, buttoned high to hide the love bite Dani left on her neck the night before. She’d scolded Dani when she saw it that morning, while she was getting dressed, but she’d been grinning as she did it. Biting her lip. And she’s been stealing kisses between customers all day.

Dani does that, too—pretending to be bother by the marks that Jamie leaves behind, but she’s never really attempted to hide them once they’re there. There’s something to being able to see the evidence of Jamie on her body. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of it.

Mr. Beard laughs and Dani’s eyes flit over to him. He looks way too charmed with himself. She rolls her eyes so hard it kind of hurts, then forces herself to return to her arrangement.

Eyes down. Hum a song to herself so she can’t hear what he’s saying to her girlfriend. Good distractions. Clean and non-violent thoughts.

Eventually, she’s jarred from them by a light touch at her waist. When she looks up, Jamie is there, smiling fondly and it makes Dani’s heart stutter in her chest.

“Can I squeeze by ya’?” Jamie asks. “Need the till.”

“Oh. Right.”

Dani moves to the side, letting Jamie slide behind her, and has to force herself to keep from making a truly inelegant noise when she feels Jamie’s hips press into her from behind as she goes.

It takes her a moment to realize that Mr. Beard is standing in front of the counter, a single yellow rose in his hand. He gives Dani an awkward, close-lipped smile as Jamie reads him his total, fishing into his back pocket to pull out a few bills.

“Um, so,” he says once Jamie has handed him his change. She leans forward against the counter curiously. His eyes flit to Dani for a moment, an expression she can’t quite read on his face. She thinks it might be slight aggravation. She turns her attention back to her arrangement. “I’m sorry if this is forward, but I’m actually buying this...for you.”

Everything falls silent. Dani’s muscles freeze and she blinks down at her flowers, trying to figure out if she’d just heard him right. Beside her, she feels Jamie’s similar reaction and she can see—out of the corner of her eye—that the man is offering her the rose he’s just bought.

“I thought maybe you’d like to get dinner sometime?” he says, continuing on like the air in the shop hasn’t just been viciously murdered and is now stagnant and thick.

Dani clenches her jaw so tightly, grinding her teeth together, that it could snap.

“Oh.” Jamie’s voice is understandably surprised. Dani feels, rather than sees, Jamie glance over at her and then away. “Um…”

“I know this great place just up the street—”

“I...uh…”

“—and I’d love the chance to get to know you better.”

“Excuse me,” Dani says, so quietly she almost can’t hear herself, and turns on her heel, marching into the back room and closing the door behind herself.

The office is really nothing more than a desk, two filing cabinets, and a couch that had been part of the shop’s lease. Frustration is licking the back of Dani’s neck, hot and livid, and she has to clench her fists to keep from hitting something.

She’s never been a violent person—no, never—but the audacity of this stranger to think he has some sort of claim on Jamie—that Jamie would even be interested—is doing interesting things to her poor heart.

This isn’t how she thought her day was going to go, that’s all.

The door is just thick enough that she can hear voices, but can’t actually make out anything that’s being said. After a moment or two, she collapses onto the couch and buries her face in her hands, trying to calm down.

It isn’t as if the guy actually has a chance with Jamie.

They live together, for God’s sake. They have a shop together and a life together and when Dani says, “I love you,” Jamie doesn’t even hesitate to say it back. There’s no realistic risk of losing her to this guy.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. There’s no reason to be upset.

She’s still telling herself that when the door opens sometime later. There’s movement—she can’t really tell because her hands are still covering her eyes—and then a warm hand is wrapping around her arm, gently guiding her hands away.

Jamie is kneeling in front of her with an apologetic smile on her perfect lips. “Hey,” she says simply, softly.

“Hey,” Dani returns. Then, bitterly, “So when’s Beard-o taking you out?”

Jamie’s smile falters for a second, but then she shakes her head. “Oh, Lord. That was the...absolutely worst, wasn’t it? I was actually embarrassed for him.”

It shouldn’t be, really, but her words are still a bit of a relief.

“You mean that’s not your type? Making you pick out the flower he gives you? From your own shop?” Dani asks.

Jamie feigns a shudder. “He loses points for creativity there, yeah.” She grabs one of Dani’s hands and pulls it nearer, pressing her lips to her fingers in a gentle kiss.

Morbid curiosity bites at the back of Dani’s throat. She can’t help but ask, “What did you tell him?”

“What do you think?” Jamie says, a breathless little laugh accompanying the words. “I said no.”

Dani’s shoulders deflate. “Right.” She’s trying her hardest not to sound as frustrated as she’s feeling, but she knows it’s not working.

There aren’t secrets between them anymore. Dani doesn’t think she’d be capable of keeping any even if she wanted to. So Jamie’s smile slips away and she shifts nearer, finally understanding what it is that’s going on.

“You’re not...Poppins, are you actually...jealous?”

Dani shakes her head, looking away. “Of course not,” she says, hating the way the messy swirl of emotions in her chest is making her feel so juvenile and silly.

“You are,” Jamie decides.

And, okay then—

“Yeah, okay,” Dani confesses, her voice pitched a little more exasperated than she’d like. “Some handsome guy comes into our shop and makes you laugh and asks you to dinner because he can do that—he can just ask, and he could hold your hand at dinner if he wanted or give you things that I—” She shakes her head, trying to clear it. “I’m sorry. I know it’s dumb, but I…”

She trails off, unsure of how to finish that thought.

Jamie is staring at her silently, her expression one of serious consideration and it makes Dani all the more nervous. All this time together, part of her has been so scared that, one of these days, Jamie will finally find the thing about her that’s made everyone else want to leave, too.

“You wanna know what I told him?” Jamie says after the silence has lingered for a little while and she doesn’t wait for an answer. “I told him that I’m taken. That I’m in a relationship with somebody I love more than anything.” Dani looks up, finally, to meet her eyes. “And even if I wasn’t...even in a world where I never met you, Dani, it still would have been no. But I did meet you and I love you. So you have nothing to worry about.”

And she smiles again—that brilliant smile that never fails to make Dani’s knees feel weak; she’s so glad she’s sitting down—and, just like that, all those worries and fears drain away. She knows Jamie better than she’s ever known anyone and she knows that Jamie would never lie to her.

She leans down and Jamie meets her halfway, grinning into the kiss in a way that makes Dani grin, too. She scratches a hand through Jamie’s hair, one arm coming down to grip her upper arm, kissing her back with everything she has.

“I’m so in love with you, Dani,” she whispers, dotting her kisses to Dani’s cheek and pulling her into a one-armed hug.

And it’s been over a year, but those words still make Dani feel like the ground has been dropped out from beneath her feet.

“Well, that’s convenient,” she says. “Because I love you, too.”

Jamie laughs, kisses her again, whispers, “What a coincidence,” into the air as she leans their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry that I—” Dani begins, but Jamie doesn’t let her. Kisses her to shut her up.

“No need,” she says. She runs her fingers down the side of Dani’s face and then pulls her other arm—the one she’s been keeping tucked behind her back—out to reveal a yellow rose, which she offers up. “As a token of my affection.”

“Is this—?” Dani asks, biting her lip to keep from smirking too wide.

“The same.” She shrugs. “He was in a rush to get out. Just left it there on the counter. Figured...it’s paid for. Might as well go to a pretty girl.”

“And that’s me?”

Jamie nods. “That’s you.”

Dani takes the rose and then they’re kissing again and, by the time Jamie is weaving her fingers into Dani’s hair and straddling her on the couch, Dani can hardly remember what she was worried about in the first place.

..

#send me prompts lads #and love #bc i need it for motivation #and other totally selfish reasons #the haunting of bly manor #damie #dani/jamie #dani x jamie #andawaywego fanfic #prompt #damie prompt

[robininthelabyrinth]

....Ok so I know that wwx & lwj are hardcore soulmates, but I honestly want too see what would happen if lwj loved jc instead? Like if he saw jc pet a dog or something, while at the same time protecting his brother? Idc but I’ve had the idea in my head for days

Donghua verse

Lan Wangji didn’t have much of an impression of Jiang Cheng at first, during his time at the Cloud Recesses.

He was supposed to have joined in the first round of lessons with him, in fact, but he’d instead chosen to remain in seclusion a few extra months, focusing on strengthening his will and his heart. This had meant, according to his brother, that he’d missed a truly epic showdown between Jiang Cheng’s unruly shixiong and his uncle – something Lan Wangji was grateful for, to be honest. He knew too well that if he was there that his uncle wouldn’t be able to resist comparing them, or requiring Lan Wangji to watch over him, or something like that, and honestly this Wei Wuxian fellow seemed like he’d require a great deal of effort and forbearance.

Instead, Lan Wangji came out only after Wei Wuxian had been sent away and Jiang Cheng left behind, and he found Jiang Cheng to be a serious and earnest young man, which was much more to his taste. He was diligent and hard-working, talented and intelligent and a little bit gullible, and it was a relief to learn next to someone who was neither as silly and frivolous as Nie Huaisang – who was so devoted to being useless that it routinely amazed Lan Wangji – nor as arrogant and self-absorbed as Jin Zixuan. The only flaw Lan Wangji could identify in Jiang Cheng was that he was a little chatty sometimes – always looking over his shoulder as if he expected someone to chime in – but in some ways that was good, too; he could sit next to him and let Jiang Cheng fill the silence, and having a regular companion made his brother stop looking so worried about him all the time.

Still, they were only classmates, not true friends. He thought he was nice, but nothing to really trouble himself over – and that was a relief, too, given how much his yang qi had been out of control around that time. Adolescence truly was a burden.

It wasn’t until later that he started appreciating Jiang Cheng.

Perhaps it was at the indoctrination camp, when Jiang Cheng had quietly passed along his condolences but didn’t burden him with too much company – he was too busy trying to keep the famous Wei Wuxian from starting trouble with the Wen sect, which honestly pissed Lan Wangji off; it was as if the other boy didn’t realize that they were representing their families as well as themselves, and that whatever nonsense he got into would be paid in blood and tears by them. If even Lan Wangji were willing to set aside abstract questions of justice and righteousness in favor of protecting those he loved in the only way he could, couldn’t Wei Wuxian do it too, even if only for a little while?

Perhaps it was only that he thought if he were clever enough about it, they would blame only him.

It was the tired expression in Jiang Cheng’s eyes, the burdens of the sect that Lan Wangji recognized from his brother’s face merging in with the familiar mix of love and mild irritation at an older sibling’s ridiculousness that Lan Wangji knew was often in his own, that had drawn Lan Wangji over to him – he couldn’t do much without threatening what was left of his family, his still-injured uncle and his dying father and his missing brother, but he could sit near to Jiang Cheng on the nights that he couldn’t sleep and offer him the silent support of company, if nothing else.

He found himself wishing that he could play the guqin for him, though of course he wasn’t allowed an instrument; he ended up drumming his fingers against a convenient log to create a calming tune, and Jiang Cheng would smile at him from across the flames of the campfire; sometimes, it even felt as if they were back in their quiet schooldays, sharing with a glance their mutual amusement and frustration with their classmate’s ridiculousness.

Jiang Cheng was someone who understood the burden of duty, while Wei Wuxian looked only at the burden of sacrifice, Lan Wangji had thought to himself then, and he would later be proved right even if he wouldn’t know about it for years on end.

Perhaps the indoctrination camp was where it started, but it was during the Sunshot Campaign that the spark finally caught, kindling in his heart. Jiang Cheng had lost everything, just the way Lan Wangji had, and his beloved shixiong had gone missing as well, just like Lan Xichen had after the burning of the Cloud Recesses; Lan Wangji at once volunteered to go help him in whatever way he needed.

It was good for sect unity, and safer, too, so Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren had agreed, but in his heart of hearts Lan Wangji wondered if he hadn’t gone just because he wanted to see how someone else was handling the same pain that he had.

The answer, to be frank, was badly, but – but Jiang Cheng was still that serious and earnest young man, diligent and hard-working, and armed with nothing more than his own determination he managed to resurrect a fallen sect and turn it into one of their most deadly weapons against the Wen sect.

Lan Wangji played him the guqin whenever he could, and listened to Jiang Cheng when he spoke – still looking over his shoulder for Wei Wuxian, an instinct he couldn’t seem to break – and found to his surprise that he had, somewhere along the way, grown quite fond of this man, grumpy and bitter and always trying so very hard to do his best.

It wasn’t what he’d thought love would feel like, the way his father had suffered from it: a sudden explosion in his heart that overwhelmed him and swept him away, a flood that consumed him and destroyed all self-restraint, a sudden single-minded selfishness, a single person becoming the light of his life to such an extent that it cast all else into shadow, with no room left behind for anything else, not self, not sect, not family.

No, this was – quieter. A recognition that his days were richer for having Jiang Cheng filling his eyes and ears, the feeling of comfort and familiarity that before had only been associated with his family, the slow realization that he wanted this to be his every day: this companion, by his side, working together.

The realization that he wanted more than this.

He wanted to have the right to take Jiang Cheng into his arms when he was sad, to take him to his bed when he was happy, to be greedy for those rare soft smiles and proud when others admired him –

Lan Wangji had long ago come to terms with the fact that he was a cutsleeve (it had been struggling to accept that realization, in fact, that had kept him in seclusion those extra few months), and he knew that there was a greater than average chance that he would be rejected, but he knew Jiang Cheng well enough by now to know that following his first instincts to keep his feelings hidden within his heart would only hurt Jiang Cheng more later on.

After the fall of the Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng had learned to despise things outside his control – it was what he didn’t know that terrified him, the hidden motives in people’s hearts of which they never spoke, and he hated most of all the idea that people were making decisions on his behalf.

(He spoke of that hatred, sometimes, when the other sect leaders or remaining Jiang sect elders tried to order him around for what they believed was his own good, and his hands would always rise up to rub his arms as if he were cold; it was only after Lan Wangji heard the full story of how he had been bound by Zidian and forced away to save his own life, his parents overriding his desires and treating him as a child for the final time, that he understood the source of it.)

Lan Wangji knew that if he broke Jiang Cheng’s trust, his dreams of a future would never come to anything, and so he stiffened his spine and told him.

Well, he wrote him a letter, knowing his own lack of eloquence would trip him up if he tried to say it out loud, but he handed him the letter and waited while Jiang Cheng read it. The letter contained a myriad of assurances that Lan Wangji would never take any action if the feelings were unwelcome, that he was fine with being rejected and that nothing would change, that he merely wanted Jiang Cheng to know.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes went soft when he read the letter, and for a moment Lan Wangji had hope, but in the end he was rejected – but not for the reason he’d thought.

“You haven’t met Wei Wuxian yet,” Jiang Cheng said, casting his eyes down. “One archery competition and a few distant glimpses during the indoctrination camp don’t count. You can’t – I know you think you like me, but you haven’t met him yet. And you will, one day, when we find him again, and that’s why I can’t agree.”

Lan Wangji hadn’t understood what Wei Wuxian had to do with anything.

“It’s like a man who’s only ever seen the moon suddenly encountering a sunrise,” Jiang Cheng tried to explain. “I can’t let you make a mistake that you’ll regret later on.”

In the end, Lan Wangji did get a chance to meet Wei Wuxian, and he understood a little of Jiang Cheng’s fears: Wei Wuxian was indeed a rising star, his utter brilliance in all aspects too-easily eclipsing Jiang Cheng’s not inconsiderable talent. He was witty and charming, charismatic without trying, a clever and imaginative thinker that refused to take no for an answer – he took the Jiang sect motto of ‘attempt the impossible’ as if it were a challenge that he were capable of living up to, and perhaps it was because of that no one noticed the dozens of impossible acts that Jiang Cheng quietly did every day.

It had been the same before, Lan Wangji suddenly thought to himself; in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter, Wei Wuxian had energetically challenged the creature, and nearly come to grief – if Lan Wangji hadn’t turned his back away from him, irritated for no reason in particular, he might have missed the shaky-handed disciple that would have undoubtedly shot Wei Wuxian himself instead of the beast, and the blood would have sent the creature into a frenzy from which they might not escape.

Jiang Cheng had been the one to lead the disciples out, finding a way out through the murky water while Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had fought the Xuanwu, but it was only Wei Wuxian’s brilliant idea of having Lan Wangji use Chord Assassination while he lured the creature in to be beheaded that anyone ever remembered; it had been Jiang Cheng who had put the injured Wei Wuxian on his back and walked seven days without rest to get him to the Lotus Pier for treatment, evading the Wen sect the entire time, but it was Wei Wuxian’s righteousness and witty challenge to Wen Chao that people recalled.

Wei Wuxian was as bright as the sun in the sky, but his light was blinding, the heat of it scorching those that came too close. Lan Wangji could have loved him, Jiang Cheng was right about that; Wei Wuxian had a way about him that was nearly irresistible. If he had been the first light that Lan Wangji had seen, he could have been blinded by it, unable to see any other, swept away the way his father had been – an explosion of love, a flood of it.

He hadn’t been, though.

Lan Wangji’s greatest achievement in his life, he would later think, would be that he had caught Jiang Cheng in a private moment shortly before Jin Ling’s one-month party and told him that he found that he preferred the quiet pleasures of stargazing by moonlight over the brilliance of a sunrise; it meant he had seen Jiang Cheng’s wide-eyed expression of utter delight, uncomplicated by sorrow or bitterness, for what may have been the very last time it appeared on this earth.

Later, after everything, Lan Wangji came to live in the Lotus Pier. He did not speak of love, for Jiang Cheng could not bear to think of such things at the beginning, and he only offered his company and his music, the way he had before. He helped Jiang Cheng learn the limits of his grief all over again, the line between righteous anger and merely lashing out; he helped guard against Jiang Cheng descending into nothing but bitterness and anger that would consume the rest of his life.

He stayed, and Jiang Cheng, who had started to doubt if anyone ever would, slowly grew to love him for it.

(It was Lan Wangji who realized that something had been off about Wei Wuxian’s demise, and started investigating it privately, although oddly enough in the end it was silly, frivolous Nie Huaisang who figured it out first – even if the way he went about it wasn’t something Lan Wangji would ever approve of.)

After Wei Wuxian returned in Mo Xuanyu’s body, after the three of them travelled together to investigate what had happened to Nie Mingjue, Jiang Cheng turned to Lan Wangji with old doubts he hadn’t seen in over a decade, and said, “You’re not going to –”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji said, and Jiang Cheng smiled.

“Ugh, you two are so married,” Wei Wuxian whined, as if he wasn’t still very firmly in Lan Wangji’s bad books for the whole revelation regarding what he’d done with his golden core without telling Jiang Cheng about it. “Why aren’t you married, actually? Jiang Cheng! For shame! Be a man and do your duty!”

“Get lost,” Jiang Cheng said, but there was a lightness in his eyes that Lan Wangji rather liked. Even with all his secrets and his lies, having Wei Wuxian back was good for Jiang Cheng, and what was good for Jiang Cheng was something Lan Wangji approved of, even as troublesome a thing as Wei Wuxian. “We’re not married.”

“We could be,” Lan Wangji said, and predictably Wei Wuxian started whooping in joy even as Jiang Cheng turned bright red. Lan Wangji ignored the troublemaker and reached out to take Jiang Cheng’s hands in his own. “I am yours. First and foremost.”

Jiang Cheng’s hands tightened on his, and even if he turned his face away to hide the fact that he was crying, Lan Wangji knew that he’d won his prize – that future every day that he’d dreamed of for so long – at last.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan wangji #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

[klm-zoflorr]

Issues with the Tyzula ship that Tyzula shippers/fics typically avoid

Stereotypical Tyzula Ty Lee: “Azula-san, I completely forgive you for everything you ever did to me or my best friend and have always loved you unconditionally. I will help you become better if it means risking the quality of my life, my other relationships, my sanity, and even my life. I will magically be able to help you deal with your myriad of mental issues as if you always only needed love/affection instead of real medical help. I will always love you even if you don’t really change your behavior or worse, remain the same power hungry bitch you grew up to be. I love you ‘Zula.”

Look, I am not opposed to Tyzula for I actually think that they had a real friendship, even if there was a massive power imbalance, that got fucked up by Ozai’s abusive teachings and Azula trying to act as her sovereign and friend at the same time. But there is a tendency among Tyzula shippers/fics to make Ty Lee forgive Azula way too easily, make Azula not deal with her flaws or make (proper) amends to Ty Lee and Mai, retcon Azula into a soft baby who didn’t do anything wrong other than get abused, and/or gloss over the issues between the two.

For example, If Tyzula occurred pre-Boiling Rock like some fics imply, do you think it would have been consensual? Especially considering that there has been a massive power imbalance (Azula is Ty Lee’s Sovereign) since their childhood that Azula took advantage of even then; Azula forced Ty Lee to join her squad at firepoint; and Ty Lee is deathly scared of Azula? And if it happened post-Boiling Rock there is a massive power imbalance in favor of Ty Lee since the moment Azula “acts up” (it doesn’t have to be a big thing since Ty Lee is scarred shitless of Azula) Ty Lee can either call Zuko to jail her and/or have Aang de-bend her. There are some Tyzula fics that properly deal with, imo, the pre- and post-Boiling Rock power imbalances but most of them just gloss over them.  Not helping is the fact that comics imply that the two never had a real relationship at all and that Ty Lee is still deathly afraid of Azula, willing to chi-block Azula the moment she is anything other than docile. 

Also, how come most Tyzula shippers/fics don’t touch about LOK’s Turf Wars said about Sozin outlawing homosexuality and the implications it has for a lesbian/bisexual Azula? If Azula, who tries to be the model princess in a post-Sozin Fire Nation, can’t even realize that using fear is not a good way to maintain relationships, how would she deal with the fact that she has feelings for girls? Most of the Tyzula fics or headcanons I have read don’t seriously deal with the fact that either Azula is deep in the closet and/or suffering from serious internalized homophobia and would not likely express her sexual preferences in public unless she was in an extraordinary situation or got serious therapy plus years of self-reflection/character growth. Not to mention the fact she would be one of the leading perpetrators of homophobia by virtue of being Ozai’s right hand general/advisor.

So, do I have a valid point about how Tyzula shippers and fics often engage in abuse and/or toxic friendship/relationship apologism? Or I am just being too harsh on a group of shippers that have been vocally condemned by the greater ATLA community and most likely will never see their ship be canonized? And yes, some of my own fanfic works do contain Tyzula so feel free to call me out if I am being a hypocrite and holding people to standards that I can’t uphold.

-----------

This was a very interesting submission, Anon, and I don't think you're "in the wrong" here, even if I don't necessarily agree with you. At least you're polite, so I won't swear at you xD I'll sum up your points for clarity's sake

"Tyzula shippers make Ty Lee dumber and ready to do anything for Azula. They write stories without depth and without adressing the imbalances in their relationship"

Here's my personnal opinion on that: this kind of drama/angst is hard to write, and I don't want to waste my time for 10 chapters while they're angstying over whether or not to love each other. Mental health issues are hard to write too, and I want azula to be happy, so I can just make them dissapear. I completely acknowledge it isn't the most realistic kind of writing, but I don't care, I just want to have fun. I wouldn't pretend it's canon either.

Now, some Azula fans are just biased towards her, and like to pretend her canon character did nothing wrong and is purely a victim and is owed Ty Lee's love. I'm not gonna shit on them, in the grand scheme of things it's quite inconsequencial, but I don't think that's accurate.

"Tyzula shippers make it happen even if Azula is still a "villain" and hasn't redeemed herself for her sins"

I can link this to my first point a little, and erase all moral complexity for the funzies while acknowledging it isn't canon. But there's also the fact in ATLA, Ty Lee has little to no redemption arc herself. She just betrays azula, and then the good guys accept her and mai with no problem? We could interpret that as "she was always supporting Aang's cause and hated azula secretly since forever" but I don't think that's very correct, because Ty Lee never shows any sign of it, never talks treason, never helps the good guys while azula isn't looking (unlike mai!). The only thing that could possibly make her betray Azula, in my point of view, is seeing her other best friend almost die to her hands. And even then, it isn't a moral choice. I firmly believe Ty Lee was just as indoctrinated in the Fire Nation's ways as everyone else there. And that she actually supported her nation and obeyed Azula as her commander not only because they were friends, not only because she had to, but because she was loyal to her nation. And the only reason I can see her go to the good guys' side at the end of atla was simply because of self preservation with a side of unbrainwashing from FN propaganda

So, in conclusion, I don't think Ty Lee is a completely good character, and I don't think she has a problem with Azula's crimes.

"There is a power imbalance"

I'm not going to deny that. But who told you all relationships with a power imbalance are inherently bad? They're more likely to be toxic, but they won't always be. If the person with the upper hand is respectuous and nice, everything works out perfectly. It's more of an advice towards people who don't have the upper hand in their unbalanced relationship, and who could get taken advantage of. But Ty Lee is smarter than she looks, and I believe she would know to stay away from that.

Pre-boilling rock, there is indeed problems with them getting together, but they're not due to one of them being toxic. Azula is Ty Lee's princess, and it isn't her fault. She was literally raised to lead. And Ty Lee was raised to follow. We see that despite that, Azula still considers Ty Lee as her friend and gets her in her team in a nice way. But it isn't her fault she was raised in the middle of a war and sees the will of the fire nation as more important than anything.

Additionally, I don't think Ty Lee hated Azula, for the reasons I mentionned before.

Post-boilling rock, I just don't think Ty Lee would be scared, or cruel enough, to jail or unbend Azula for no reason. Because, again, I don't think she hates her.

"The fire nation is homophobic"

As is usual with me, I loathe the comics and don't consider this as canon. It doesn't even make sense, apart from saying "fire nation's evil, they're homophobic now too" to be honest, if anyone's gonna be homophobic it's gonna be everyone, cause there was no gay representation in atla.

Oh, and f*ck this, I hate homophobia, I don't want my fictionnal worlds to have it too. It's dumb as shit and everyone is gay in the Fire Nation. There.

"So, do I have a valid point about how Tyzula shippers and fics often engage in abuse and/or toxic friendship/relationship apologism? Or I am just being too harsh on a group of shippers that have been vocally condemned by the greater ATLA community and most likely will never see their ship be canonized?"

You do have a valid point that some tyzula shippers have the same problem as some azula stans, as in that they put her on a pedestral and say she did nothing wrong. But some also just don't want to bother with that and just want to write fluff, and that's fine. There are way worse things they could be doing.

It is true that Tyzula is kind of a controversial ship, and for this reason I don't think you should care too much about it. Bullying people never help anyone, and criticising tyzula shippers will only push them back in their fandom spaces and make them unable to tell apart genuine, objective criticism and mean bullying.

I don't want Tyzula to be canon, btw. Well. For me canon kinda stopped at the end of atla, so everything is possible after this point lol. Not that I even care much about canon.

You are not an hypocrite for liking tyzula and criticizing it. You can call out the behavior of people in your own community, it's perfectly fine and should be encouraged. I'd pay more attention to your opinion too, because I know you don't just dislike the ship and want to find any reason for it to be "problematic"

I'm gonna put that submission in the Tyzula tag, if anyone in there feels offended by that do let me know. I don't intend to shit on this ship at all. Also, if anyone wants to add points or give me perspectives I didn't think about go ahead!

#atla #azula #ty lee #tyzula #tyzula crit #tyzula criticism #anti tyzula shippers #klm-zoflorr #submission

[theclampdown]

more oc stuff under the cut tw for like discussion of injury/surgery etc

sorry these ended up showing as super low quality just click on them to read the text but like i wanted to keep note on this mostly for design purposes but also bc i dont want the info that specific in a ref if i ever make them (i probably wont ever bc these guys already live in my head). literally the first time ive ever drawn all 9 of them in one thing though

since this takes place in #the future but also more importantly where theres #alien tech a lot of the medical tech is way way way more advanced so injuries like ria getting shot in the head are healed and recovery is a lot quicker than in our modern day, and injuries that would be lethal or at least incredibly debilitating like the captain's are much more survivable and manageable.

but the technology cant fix Everything which is why both nur and ria still have lasting damage (though nur's speech greatly improved with the first few months after being injured and continued to improve over half a decade while we don't see ria long enough to know how these longer effects change) its also not perfect bc theres still no Mythical Cure-All for mentol illnesses like anxiety that jackie has or w/e.

there is also technology to regrow limbs but it has flaws like the grown limb is generally weaker for a myriad of reasons + chronic nerve and joint pain is really common + the recovery takes a really long time. nur and ostad both opted for artificial limbs instead because they didn't have time for the recovery period. jackie considered it for some time and also used a wheelchair for a few years before ultimately deciding for artificial limbs.

for the captain's bionic eyes he could have just gotten normal looking ones for the sake of appearances but decided on the more functional ones since it was cheaper + had enhanced vision over the normal ones + also because he has problems and wanted it to be a Reminder of the mistakes that got him to lose his eyes in the first place.

also on the note of med tech in general ria is one of the few people on the ring base that can repair the machines since she was trained by the doctor there (at least like two thirds of the reason she was able to join up was because they needed another mechanic for the med wing) and as a result she's also picked up on how to actually use them. most of the machines genius comes from an extensive medical database for all sorts of species because one doctor cant be expected to know Everything when having to treat any number of lifeforms

#ria tag #im thinking about them recently.

[monchikyun]

XVIII. bury a friend

It has been awfully quiet for about an hour now. As Connor ended his story with horrible dejection written all over his face, he turned around and initiated his stasis, refusing any and all comfort Gavin has been more than willing to provide. He did expect it to be something twisted and tragic like that, even imagined the worst possible scenario before being told how it really went down, just to be safe. If he’s honest with himself, the reality isn't very far from the most fucked up course of events his mind has been able to cook up. Still, it has been able to freeze the blood in his veins, which has paralysed his brain for the amount of time it took Connor to withdraw to his simulated sleep. 

Gavin has already cursed himself for being so goddamn incompetent when it comes to emotional issues, blamed himself for the cold shoulder he didn't even have the chance to receive. He still does, as he lies glued to the bed, counting the cracks in the ceiling. His nicotine addiction is begging him to go into the cold and give it what it needs to survive, but the warmth of his current company is impossible to leave. His hand aches for the smallest touch, for some confirmation that Connor is still here with him. So he directs his sight to the body next to him, letting himself be mesmerised by the constellations of freckles decorating the android's bare arm. It's a painful view, knowing that he still doesn't have the right to connect those dots with his own defects, to interpose himself with this amazing, flawed being who has carved a hole in his chest and invaded his heart.

He remembers how the android was back when he found him on the roof, finally realising the enormous difference created by the months they’ve spent together. Last spring he dreaded going to work, feared that Connor just wouldn’t show up one day and he wouldn’t be able to see him ever again. Or worse, all that would remain of him would be the empty vessel that used to house his colourful soul, something that would kill his last hopes. He was tempted to become a well-meaning stalker then, to always be near for when a potential threat arrives, but that idea was too exhausting for him in the end, and so he left his worries to a silent prayer which guided him all through to summer. 

With the warmth came the first smile and a myriad of gratitudes for his uncharacteristic kindness. That’s when they started having casual conversations, a big leap from the uncomfortable silences that filled their shared hours in the previous season. It was somewhere in July when he first regarded Connor as his friend, without his vigilant denial disagreeing that fact. Gavin has always found the android very attractive, like an eye candy specifically developed for his torment, but knowing there was a whole, unpolished person behind that plastic perfection has made his partner so much more appealing. He simply couldn’t stop himself getting drawn to him, despite all the countless attempts to emotionally distance himself from the one who lived inside his dreams. It was either letting himself be eaten by the monsters living in his past, or inviting in the one person who has the power to push them away from his corrupted mind.

For the longest time, he did neither. Though his inability to act on his feelings was due to more than just the inherent fragility of their source, he was simply afraid like he has always been when it comes to things that have the potential to hurt him. He'd rather be thrown in a paper shredder than to have his soul bruised again. Physical pain is easy to understand, straightforward in its healing. Time usually takes care of what needs to be done, but when it comes to the mind, sometimes even passing years will have little to no effect on the waste that has accumulated in someone’s innermost core. And Gavin didn't want to add onto the rotting pile of mess that has already been too much to bear as it is. But that was months ago, and as the earth was becoming colder, the warmth that had started budding inside of him turned into sweltering heat.

When autumn was nearing its end, he understood that he would soon burn up if he didn’t begin dealing with his problem. Maybe that’s how they got here, to a place where he doesn’t have to call his feelings inconvenience anymore, having breached the border that has kept them apart all these months. He wants to stop fighting it for good. This truth is sent to him from above as he puts his fingers on Connor's bare temple, tracing the ghost of the LED that used to signify his nature. 

He'd like to say that the fact that one of them isn't human is what prevented them from giving into their hearts' desires, but that is far from the truth. Life is much more complicated than that, not as black and white as he wants it to be. 

Gavin wishes their relationship was defined, so he could casually take the android in his arms and hold him away from the evil of the world, just for a short while, just so he can expand his collection of irreplaceable moments that he doesn't ever want to forget. 

He considers getting just a bit closer, weighing all the pros and cons that ultimately mean nothing because deep down he recognises that their sentiments are shared. So he lowers his steadying hand down from Connor’s temple, ready to enfold everything his partner represents. But fortune isn’t on his side tonight, because as soon as he begins his movement, Connor wakes up with a jerk that betrays confusion lined up with its best friend, unease. 

"Did you have a nightmare?" Gavin is more than familiar with the concept of being tortured by his own psyche as he lays it to rest, so he's aware of just how disorienting such illusions can be, how unrelentingly cruel and merciless they often are. 

"No, no... I-... androids can't normally dream. I wasn't really sleeping, just… thinking. More than I should." 

Gavin scoots over so their shoulders are just about touching, a decision his conscious mind has had no say in. 

"Do you wanna talk 'bout it?" A quiet, tentative question just barely escapes his lips for fear he gets denied entrance into Connor's trove of dark secrets. 

There is a short, excruciating period of silence before he gets his answer.

"You know how I can preconstruct any future scenario based on the information available to me?" 

"Yeah? I mean… sorta. Can't really wrap my mind around your technical stuff most of the time." That's only partially a lie. He ought to tell him that he doesn't want to picture his inner workings because they kind of scare him, but maybe that would be too inappropriate given the frailty of this moment. 

"Well… I saw you get buried…,” the android breathes out for reasons Gavin can only guess, “after you died, naturally." 

"Naturally." 

Why doesn't this even surprise him anymore. Of course Connor would paint himself the grimmest image possible, these are just his default settings. Give him the brightest colours and he'd draw you the darkest sky without a single star in sight. 

"That's not… I'm sorry I,... I didn't mean to… I just couldn't stop it since it went that way and…" 

"Hey, it's okay.” It hurts seeing Connor get like that, losing most of his coherency and feeling like he should apologise for it.  

“How…," Gavin takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts down. Connor was the one who saw his funeral, not him, yet he feels like he’s been there already, among the dirt, not far from other decaying corpses. It’s an uncanny sensation. Not one he’ll be chasing any time soon. 

"How did it make you feel?" A stupid question, really, and yet the best his brain has to offer. 

"How do you think?" Gavin never knew that tears could fit an incredulous look, but the welling in Connor's eyes combined with the exasperation written all over his face is proof enough. Laughable, frankly, but he wouldn't dare. Not now, anyway. 

"Guess it sucked then." 

"That's putting it mildly." The android shakes his head and rubs his eyes before they have the chance to leak his sorrow. 

"I… I don't ever want to go through that again,” he says, desperation piercing his voice through and through. It would be easy to dismiss these ungrounded worries if it wasn’t for the two flaming brown lights probing his own mossy pools like they intend to hypnotise them and seize control over his soul.  

"You know that no one can force you to… be there... when it happens." 

"You don’t get it! That's not the point. I don't want to live in a world where two of my best friends are nothing but a memory. I realise that’s selfish, but… "

Gavin does, by all means, get it, he just tried to help, somehow. 

Connor’s eyes are turning into glass, threatening to melt again, so he closes his because God knows he does not possess the strength to witness it, not tonight at least. 

"Maybe you should just relax Con, the future will come no matter what, but we still have the might to shape it as we like. To some extent. Anyway,... I promise…," he cuts the sentence midway to inhale a big gulp of oxygen, an action which results in a minor coughing fit. 

"I promise to try my best to stay by your side as long as physically possible. " A statement which makes him want to cry instead. 

"Does it mean you’ll stop smoking then?" 

Oh, that devious android, of course this conversation would lead here, why wouldn't it. He glances at his nightstand, checking if the half-full box of cigarettes is still there, waiting for him to take its lethal fruit. Come to think about it, ever since their little trip his taste for cigarettes has somewhat diminished. Could be the fresher air just outside these thin walls, or the fact that Connor’s presence stimulates him enough already, so the need for nicotine is not as great as it is when he has to spend his time alone or surrounded by people who hold little to no significance to him, pretending like he doesn't crave something beyond the drug his body could very well function without. 

"Yeah..., yeah, okay." Gavin buries his face in his hands, disbelieving his consent. 

As he puts them away and folds them in his lap, he scroungers up a lazy smile meant to lighten up the heavy mood, to maybe clear Connor’s stormy sky a little. 

"But only if you promise to try to be more optimistic…  just a smidge.., " he makes a gesture with his two fingers to show how small of an effort would suffice. 

Then he gives Connor a friendly pat on his thigh, after which he realises that he doesn't have to limit his displays of affection anymore, not after all the intimacy they have been willing to submit themselves to already. 

So he lets his palm linger, allowing himself to rub gentle circles into the clothed skin. He doesn't have to be cautious with Connor, for the android isn't burdened with any biological organs that would make this situation uncomfortable for both parties. 

"Life isn't all bad, I’m sure you came across that particular information at least once during your time on this Earth. Experienced it, even. No?" 

"You're right." 

A trace of a hesitant smile on Connor’s lips is all that it takes for Gavin to heave a sigh of relief. He’s too tired to think beyond that feeling. Everything inside of him, all the emotions and memories blend into a blurry mixture as he starts losing the ground under his feet. 

But he must fight it, his friend still needs him awake...

"Let's go to sleep," Connor whispers, tugging him into a tender embrace. It’s warm and safe and he can't concentrate on anything but the wave of love pulling him under to the sweet slumber he’s always yearned for. 

Indeed, life can be ever so wonderful sometimes.

@a-convin-new-year

#aconvinnewyear #convin #low-temperature burn #this one is long... comparably #also sorry it took forever to post #im trying my good

[writeanapocalae]

A Guide for Writing Trans People

Written by a Trans Man. 

I’ve seen a lot of different posts on how to write trans characters (absolutely none on how to write cis characters and I am so lost on how to do that oh my goodness) but maybe I’ve got a different perspective and maybe I’ve got something you haven’t heard before. Let’s go! 

Terminology

There are a lot of different genders out there, not just male and female. Some people think Trans men and women are some outside of the binary extra gender, which is very much not true. While many trans people do fall outside the binary, there are a lot who are strictly male or female. Therefore their genders are male and female. The trans part is not part of the word, it is a definer to state that the person is transitioning, that is all. So when you write trans man or trans woman the words are separate, not transman or transwoman. 

A trans man is someone who is transitioning his appearance for society to view him as male. 

A trans woman is someone who is transitioning her appearance for society to view her as female. 

The reason I am wording it this way is because they were already their genders. They have always been their genders. Transitioning is greatly influenced by the way we are treated by society, the same way that beauty standards influence people to contour and get surgeries and whatnot. 

Demi means mostly in terms of gender so a demi boy is someone who is male most of the time and a demi girl is someone who is female most of the time. 

Agender is someone who has no gender

Genderfluid is someone who shifts from gender to gender

Genderqueer is someone who’s gender is nondefined by other terms

Two Spirit is a third gender that encapsulates masculinity and femininity (according to Wikipedia) that is only used by Native Americans 

Third Gender is a gender that can encapsulate or be a completely different solid gender like male or female

Nonbinary is someone who is somewhere on the spectrum between genders and their gender is defined by them 

Pangender is someone who has all genders

Androgyny is not something that actually relates to gender as much as it does presentation. Presentation does not inherently tell you someone’s gender. Being androgynous just means that someone fits right in the middle of societies expectations of male and female and their AGAB cannot be guessed by onlookers. 

AGAB AFAB and AMAB mean Assigned Gender At Birth, Assigned Female At Birth, and Assigned Male At Birth. At birth someone will often assign a gender to a baby based on their genitals and parents tend to show off what sort of genitals their baby has with accessories and colors. Pretty creepy if you ask me. 

FTM and MTF has been deemed problematic but many still use them. They mean Female to Male and Male to Female. The terminology states that the person’s AGAB is their initial gender and they are becoming the opposite when, as stated before, it’s more that they were always their gender and now society has to catch up. 

Gender Nonconformity can be practiced by anyone regardless of gender. It just means that they do things that aren’t expected of someone of their gender like men wearing skirts (for some reason?) or women growing beards or a nonbinary person not being androgynous (for some reason that’s become an expectation)

Intersex is not a part of the trans umbrella, even though it is often lumped in and people who are intersex can also be trans. It is a sex (different from gender) in which different parts of genitals and chromosomes and hormones are produced in a way that deviates from the norm. Many intersex people undergo genital reconstruction or reduction surgery when they are infants (and can’t consent) in order to fit the mold better. Intersex people can be cis. 

Cis just means that someone agrees with the people who assigned them a gender when they were a baby and how society treats them. 

Slurs: Don’t use them. There are a lot. If you see it in a porn category you probably should stay away from it. 

Pronouns

Pronouns are highly personal and can be a myriad of things so I will not be going over all of them. They do not always match presentation (a long haired man with breasts is still a man) and many people will use multiple sets of pronouns or fluctuate between them for what they feel most comfortable with. 

Common pronouns are: they/them, he/him, she/her

Less common pronouns are: xi/xir, fae/faer, it/its, e/em, per/pers, ve/vir, zie/hir

Neopronouns: People make up pronouns all the time since they are personal and these new pronouns are just as valid as any others. Someone made up his and hers after all. When making neopronouns the main thing to be aware of is consistency. You want the different forms of conjugation to make sense and you want to spell them the same way every time. 

Appearance

As has already been stated, there’s no correlation between gender presentation and gender and many trans people are unable to present the way they want to due to the economy, genetics, health, or community. Still, people do what they can to pass or feel comfortable in their body and these things need to be in mind during descriptions. People tend to think of the slight things that make people not pass are unattractive and will point out a woman’s 5 o’clock shadow or a man’s high pitched voice as flaws. These things do not necessarily need to be skipped over but they can be described in a way that doesn’t distract from the characters gender. 

Try to stop thinking of an hourglass shape as an intrinsically feminine trait and height as an inherently masculine one. There are cis women with full beards and cis men with round jaws. Exploring different features, combining them, and seeing how they meld will give your characters more depth and help with differentiating them from one another. A good rule of thumb is, if you mention something that people don’t immediately clock as the characters gender, describe it as gender accurate. 

Misgendering

This is another one that I would say don’t do but there are characters who the writers don’t always agree with. Misgendering is extremely harmful, puts trans people’s lives in danger, and can out them without their permission. The narrator should never misgender a character unless the character does not realize they are trans until the story is underway but this should be rare. The trans character would have no reason to ever misgender themself and may talk about how they presented in the past but will, most likely, still refer to themself with the correct gender. The POV character may misgender a trans character upon meeting them but after being corrected should fix their behavior unless you want your audience to dislike the POV character. Friends of the trans character should not misgender the character unless they are in a situation in which being correctly gendered would bring them harm, otherwise they’re not good friends. Family may misgender the trans character if they are not out or if the family members are terrible people. 

Dysphoria/Euphoria

Dysphoria is when there’s a painful discrepancy between mind and body, like when someone knows they are one way but they don’t look the way they feel. Misgendering can be a large cause of dysphoria, as can hearing a recording of their voice, reflections, binding and tucking not hiding what the individual may want to hide, height, muscle structure, bone structure, etc. 

Euphoria is the exact opposite of this. It is an extreme sensation of peace and joy in personal gender presentation. This can be caused by hormone replacement therapy, correct gendering, presenting in a way that feels natural, and acceptance. 

Dysphoria is not necessary for being transgender. 

Social Groups

Look around your friend group. Notice anything eerie? Notice how most of your friends are similar to you in a lot of ways, especially IRL friends? They’re people that you trust and expect to keep you safe while having a fun time with because you share interests and experiences with. Same for trans people. This is why, if you look at my friend group there’s 2 genderfluid, 1 agender, 1 nonbinary, 2 trans women, 1 trans man, and 1 cis man (who’s a cousin). If you have just 1 trans character in a group of friends it is going to read as a need for diversity points and that character is less likely to feel safe with discussing trans issues due to no one around them being able to relate.

Outing 

This is one that a lot of people have a hard time with and even trans writers mess up a lot. We all know the infamous scene of someone walking in on a trans person changing and, hopefully, we know that this is not only cliche but actually harmful as it tends to lead to the idea of “lying” when it’s really just not anyone’s business and that trans bodies must be on display. I would say that you shouldn’t have to out your character because coming out is dangerous for real trans people in a lot of situations and it normalizes the idea that trans people must doxx themselves at any moment but due to the lack of representation and the nature of novels, you pretty much have to out your characters. No amount of subtext will be as beneficial to a trans reader as cementing the fact that there’s someone they can relate to in canon. Luckily outing a trans character is a lot easier than people think. 

Some of us can’t shut up. A lot of trans people will hint at it a lot and just flat out say it if they’re in similar company. If we see people who we feel confident are also queer we often drop hints that we understand we’re safe, they can come to us (especially in a retail setting), because we want a community. The amount I bring up my masculinity is very very often, to the point I’m surprised people aren’t annoyed with me. I don’t pass very well so I wear a lot of brightly colored buttons that explicitly state my pronouns. There’s also this very strong urge to correct people who use gendered language for things that don’t need gender (like sexual organs and menstrual cycles). There’s nothing wrong with just saying that a character is trans. 

Resources

The best thing you can do for your story is research. The trans people you know are not google and they do not deserve to be treated like google. You can use google. Here’s some stuff I found on google: 

Dummies | Transequality | EverydayFeminism | Scriptlgbt

But no matter how much research you do it’s not going to be as useful as a sensitivity reader. Once your story is complete ask people to read it as beta readers and sensitivity readers and listen to the people that fit your minority characters. 

Some musicians to check out for inspiration

I have to recommend music. I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t. 

Agender: Angel Haze | Mood Killer

Androgyne: Florian- Ayala Flora | 

Genderfluid: Aja | Miley Cyrus | Dorian Electra | Jana Hunter | Ruby Rose |  Sons of an Illustrious Father | Eliot Sumner | Maxine Feldman | Chester Lockhart 

Genderqueer: Sopor Aeternus | CN Lester | Planningtorock | Chris Pureka | Sam Smith | Rae Spoon | Vaginal Davis | Ezra Furman | Randa | Vivek Shraya

Genderneutral: Grimes | 

Nonbinary: Arca | Mal Blum | Justin Vivian Bond | Adore Delano | Grey Gritt | Rose McGowan | Shamir | T Thomason | Beth Jean Houghton | Openside | Fraxiom 

Pandrogyne: Genesis P-orridge 

Trans Man: Alexander James Adams | Bettens | Little Axe and the Golden Echoes | Cidney Bullens | Meryn Cadell | Ryan Cassata | Quinn Christopherson | Beverly Glenn Copeland | Quinn Marston | Clyde Peterson | Schmekel | Lucas Silveira | Billy Tipton 

Trans Woman: 1.8.7. | Nadia Almada | Vacancy Chain | Barbra Amesbury | anohni | Estelle Asmodelle | Backxwash | Mykki Blanco | Namoli Brennet | Tona Brown | Sara Davis Buechner | Mya Byrne | The Neptune Darlings | Simona Castricum | Lili Chen | Jessie Chung | Coccinelle | Jayne County | Bulent Ersoy | Deena Kaye Rose | Bibi Anderson | Marci Free |  Teddy Geiger | Gila Goldstein | Laurie Jane Grace | Romy Haag | Ai Haruna | Juliana Huxtable | Mila Jam | Christine Jorgensen | Lady | Left@London | Amanda Lapore | Liniker | Jennifer Maidman | Michete | Trevi Moran | Angela Morley | Ataru Nakamura | Octo Octa | Dee Palmer | Kim Petras | Axis of Awesome | Katey Red | Patricia Ribeiro | Danica Roem | Jackie Shane | Breanna Synclaire | Sophie | Ramon Te Wake | Terre Thaemlitz | Cindy Thai Tai | Titicia | Venus Flytrap 

Two Spirit: Tony Enos | Cris Derksen

#writing advice #transgender writing #queer writers #trans writeblr #trans writing

[kirishwima]

what pisses off the RFA, or what makes them go T_T ?

ohh its good ol' angst time i see

YOOSUNG:

* When it comes to fears, things that twist his heart like thorns on a rose, the one thing that comes to mind is death.

* His first true experience with death and loss was when he lost Rika, and we all saw how much that affected him; it got him thinking of what it's like to die, what comes next, it makes him wonder if he's lived a life worth living and when he realizes he has done nothing of what he wanted to he panics, cries even

* When it comes to anger, what upsets him like no other are lies, or having his kindness being mistaken for naivety. He's a cheerful guy, he's gentle and caring; but he's not an idiot, and you'd be a fool to treat him as such.

* When people take advantage of his kindness he'll show them a face they've never seen before-long gone is sweet happy Yoosung and in his place comes a menace, his gaze ice cold and his words dripping venom.

ZEN:

* He likes to play at being a 'macho man', even though he too acknowledges the faults of toxic masculinity, even if he falls into some of its traps. Yet his biggest fear isn't to not be perceived as manly. No, his fear is to be acknowledged.

* What does that mean? You ask and you're right, it's very vague phrasing. For me at least, Zen seems to always be putting up an act (especially in other routes except his own); he's so scared of letting true emotions show, to expose himself for who he really is that he tries to pull a facade, be it over exaggerating and focusing on his beauty to flat out avoiding conversations so as to not show his cards, his isnecurities. He's afraid of being seen.

* As for what pisses him off, well...Jumin obviously lmao

* Nah, what really angers him like no other is greed and convinience. He hates being handed things, can't stand to be coddled. He needs to know he's earned his place and victories through his hard work and hard work alone. If he sees people taking advantage of the system, using priveleges others aren't privy to and then pretending they got to where they are on their own he WILL expose them for the idiots they really are lol

JAEHEE:

((friendly reminder that i havent plaged her route in a long while so these are mainly observations from other routes))

* She likes to pretend nothing truly fazes her, but truly Jaehee takes things to heart much more than one would think. That's also exactly why she's built up walls for herself, afraid of letting anyone else in because...what if they hurt her? What if they don't like what they find once she lets them in? ...what if they leave?

* Of course the death of her parents impacted her like no other event, and losing loved ones in a flash like that is jarring, especially at a young age; so Jaehee's always afraid of people getting too close, and worse-of people leaving.

* As for anger, she HATES being taken advantage of. Similarly to Yoosung, but the main difference is that it's not her kindness people tend to take advantage of, but her capabilities and resilience. People think she's a reliable wall, piling things atop of her without even once thinking she might break under the pressure.

* What's worse, is Jaehee will rarely if ever lash out in anger, or even at least tell people to stop. She lets them lean on her until she can't no more, and then she simply takes a step back away from them, becomes cold but never mean. It might just be that she doesn't know how to.

JUMIN:

* Yes yes, Jumin the 'robot' as Zen calls him does have feelings, and fears and worries-truly he might be more human beneath his cold exterior than any one person may ever truly know.

* Jumin's big flaw is that once he's attatched to someone, once he bonds with them, he'll be there for life. Even if the person he loves is to kick him to the ground, even if they hurt him and dispose him like a carcass, if he's with you he's with you 'till the end of the line. Jumin's fear is that he cares too much or not at all, and there's no inbetween.

* He's learnt to deal in extremes, and that's not a trait you can simply unlearn; moderation has never been a part of him, and he fears it never will. So he'll love, or he'll hate, but he'll never simply tolerate (even if he may sometimes make it seem that way).

* As for anger, there's very few things that infuriate Jumin. Or rather, it's that he bottles in his furstrations until much later on he reaches a tipping point, unlesshing all those grievances like breaking glass. For him to come to that point though, it takes a LOT.

* One thing that can and will anger him like no other, even to the point of being physically fighting, is seeing someone mistreat animals. He WILL throw hands don't test him just because he looks like a prim and proper gentleman. 😤

SEVEN/LUCIEL/SAEYOUNG:

* I mean...we all know Seven is in fact a bundle of insecurities and fears moulded into human form.

* His fears and worries are countless and they often keep him up at night; losing the ones he loves, being unable to help as people he cares about suffer, having others be put in an unfavorable situation because of him...oh wait these are all things that HAVE happened and he has gone through. No wonder this man is as closed off as he is.

* So yeah, he has a myriad of fears. But honestly, and this will sound cliche I know...his biggest fear is himself. Wether he's good enough, wether he's worthy of love, if it's okay for him to be cared for, they're all worries that choke his throat, making him push others away for their own sake. Teaching Saeyoung to accept himself, and him truly believing he's capable of being loved is a long hard process.

* When it comes to anger, well generally he's learnt to keep his cool under most situations given his training, but he will go feral if he sees anyone being abused under any form. Knowing what it's like to be a victim in your own house, to cower from the people that should be there to protect you-he'll fight for the victims with tooth and nail.

V/JIHYUN:

* Similarly to Seven V's a burrito of insecurities, with a stuffing of fears and worries.

* He'a afraid of hurting the ones he loves, afraid that he's too much, too little, not enough and overwhelming all at once. He's afraid of moderation, afraid he'll never be able to provide the love one needs as they need it.

* In truth, he's afraid of being abandoned, and this deeply rooted fear is the one that blooms the rest of his insecurities and worries. He's afraid that if he doesn't mould himself into exactly what the other person seeks, they'll leave him in search of something better. He's terrified of being alone.

* When it comes to anger, in the past as a young teen the slightest thing could infuriate him, and he'd freely voice his anger even if it hurt others. Nowdays though, mainly because of the aforementioned fears, he's learnt to handle his anger, and it's a feeling he rarely experiences.

* One thing that can anger him to no end though, is if you dare hurt or taunt the ones he loves. If you even look at the ones he cares for the wrong way, he'll point you with a glare so cold and sharp you can feel blood pool on the tip of your tongue.

* Don't mess with V's family. DON'T.

-send me mystic messenger headcanons for character reactions-

#i rly enjoyed writing this OwO #i love analysing characters lol it reminds me of essays in english lit which i LOVED SO MUCH aaa #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme prompts #mystic messenger prompts #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #mysme zen #hyun ryu #jumin han #luciel choi #saeyoung choi #jihyun kim #mysme v

[radical-revolution]

THE CALL OF THE EMPATHIC WARRIOR

As you awaken from the age-old trance of shame and fear-based conditioning, and as you drop into your authentic self, and as you uncover your deep vulnerability and your shockingly innocent heart, you may discover an empathy you never knew you were capable of. An empathy for all humanity… and for your own deepest humanity. For the flaws and pains of others... and for your own beautiful imperfections.

You may find that you are now more able to open your heart in compassion to others, able to hold space for them as they break and rest and heal, and able to listen without judgement, since you are now able to listen to yourself. You may become more comfortable with silence and with awkwardness. You may become more present, less distracted, more authentic, less interested in fixing and controlling those around you.

As people touch into your ‘newfound’ empathy and ability to listen from presence, you may trigger them in unexpected ways. You may find that people who weren’t drawn to you in the past are now drawn to you. They now feel somehow safer with you, more willing to open their hearts, to express their deepest authentic feelings, to tell their raw truth, to touch gently into their trauma, to relax and be fully themselves in your presence, knowing that they will not be judged, or shamed, or manipulated.

You become a healing field for others as you become a healing field for yourself.

You will meet others who walk the same path as you, others who want to do this work. You will meet new friends, brothers and sisters on the path, who find safety in your presence and can offer you the same. (You will also encounter those who want you to be their unpaid therapist, or even a dumping ground for their unconsciousness, drama and complaints, so you will need to learn healthy boundaries!)

When you are empathic - which I believe is our true nature, underneath our narcissistic programming and our myriad defences - you become a mirror for others, a reflective pool in which they can clearly see themselves, if they wish to. And herein lies the rub. Some people are simply not ready to see themselves in your mirror! For some, the prospect of having their deepest inner truths reflected back to them - nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, no-one else to blame - is deeply uncomfortable, edgy, even scary. For some, the kind of intimacy, love and safety you are now offering triggers a deep unconscious fear, perhaps greater than the fear of death. The thought of being truly seen and exposed in love’s warm light can feel overwhelming, terrifying, even downright repulsive to the ego. As much as we may long for intimacy, when it is offered freely and lovingly we can find ourselves running a mile, finding every excuse under the sun to not step in, quite sure that if our 'negative' patterns, desires, urges and feelings are truly seen and exposed, we will be rejected and shamed again, and not loved and embraced.

We can run from genuine love and acceptance as much as we long for it.

As you awaken, as you care more and more about truth, and less and less about the self-image, you will discover who your real friends and family are. You will find out who wants to stand in your empathic mirror and be seen in return, and who rejects the mirror, fears it, resents it, judges it, blames it, avoids it or pushes it away.

Empathy is what we all long for, deep down, but empathy can be terrifying, at least at first. The warm loving relational field of another can trigger our deepest wounds and awaken our unhealed trauma, and invite us to integrate and heal, perhaps before we are ready. As an empath you may unknowingly, unwittingly, with your stillness, your equanimity, your ability to listen deeply from non-judgemental presence, trigger old pain, shame, guilt, fear, even rage, in those who spend time with you.

As an empath, you will naturally invite others to face themselves.

Some will be drawn to you, yes, will want what you want; but others will run away, or will view your empathy as weakness, or madness; something basically undesirable, even boring. Perhaps they just don’t want to look at themselves. Perhaps they are ashamed of their own ‘badness’, afraid of being found out. Perhaps they are addicted to drama, and wary of the devastatingly simple truth of their life. Perhaps the unlovability they feel inside is just too great to connect in intimacy; they simply do not feel worthy of the love you are offering them.

Your ability to be empathic is a great gift, yes, but the truth is, not everyone sees it as a gift, or is ready for such a life-changing present.

That’s okay. There is power in your vulnerability, and you cannot turn back now. You can honour those who stay, and honour those who leave. You can understand that the powerful light of your empathy is illuminating to some, but blinding, uncomfortable, even disorienting, to others. You cannot force people into the light of self-knowledge before they are ready. And they may never be ready, and that’s okay too.

Bless those who come closer, bless those who walk away.

You are a warrior of empathy now, friend, and your path is clear.

- Jeff Foster

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #28: Humiliations Galore

Prompt: irenic | Master Post | On AO3

This fill is partially in response to @ahlis-xiv‘s fill for ultracrepidarian, which you can read HERE! (And it goes without saying you should read her other fills and assorted writing, too!) The Ahlis mentioned herein, of course, belongs to her. \o/

--

Synnove felt her face twist into something foul and ugly and absolutely capable of curdling milk as she stared down at the letter on her desk. Halulu took one look at her and immediately fled back to the relative safety of her own office one floor down.

The envelope was fine vellum, waxed to protect its contents, tied with twine and the tie further sealed with wax. It was unremarkable, really, and appeared no different from any other important missive that Mealvaan’s Gate might receive from near and far.

Save for the seal of the University of Radz-at-Han pressed into the wax.

Synnove’s lip curled up in a sneer.

Mama, just open it, Galette sighed from her usual perch draped around her shoulders.

Synnove grimaced, but reached for the envelope and slid it closer to herself on the desk. She wedged her thumbnail beneath the wax seal and wiggled back and forth until it popped off, then slid the vellum from the twine and opened the flap. Reaching in, she pulled out two letters, folded over and individually sealed with different wax and stamps, at which she frowned.

And then raised her eyebrows as she noticed the thicker letter of the two, the one closed by deep red wax with a plain stamp, had writing in a very familiar hand on the outside.

READ THE OTHER ONE FIRST.

Now, what in the six hells was Thaisie Valeroyant up to?

Synnove stared with narrow, suspicious eyes at the letter from the Chair of the Department of Arcanima from the University of Radz-at-Han’s College of Mathematics, drumming her fingers on her desk for long moments as she mentally flicked through a list of possibilities. Finally, she let out a heavy sigh and scowled, snatching up the other letter, popping the wax seal, and unfolding it.

My dearest Mistress Greywolfe—

Synnove dropped the parchment, recoiling with a disgusted shriek. Galette HISSED, rising to a crouch as she bared her teeth and bristled her fur, tails lashing.

She knew that handwriting, knew that deep blue ink, knew that absolutely repulsive cologne that wafted into her face.

The first letter was in her hand in an instant, wax seal ripped off and parchment unfolded.

I promise, Synnove, the other letter is worth soiling your fingers and eyes.

Synnove ground her teeth, rage roiling through her, but she took a deep breath through her nose for a five count. Held it for another five count. Let it out with a final five count.

“Thaisie, you are going to owe me so much alcohol,” she muttered under her breath. She set down Thaisie’s letter and reached up to pet Galette, soothing them both for a few moments. Then, she picked up one of the half-sticks of graphite from the pile in the corner of her desk, and used it to poke the other letter flat, sneering as she did. Once that was done, she threw the graphite into her trash bin.

Finally, with a grimace, she leaned over her desk to read the letter from Bahram Zarir.

Synnove sat back after the first flowery paragraph and exchanged a confused look with Galette. “Did he actually…?”

I think so? Galette chittered, ears flat against her head.

They leaned forward again to read the next paragraph.

“…Ah. Never mind. He still, in fact, has his head shoved up his ass so far that the apple on his throat is actually his nose. Good gods, how as he gone this long without developing critical thinking skills, or the ability to remember what he wrote in a previous paragraph?”

She continued reading, occasionally muttering comments such as, “My gods, you absolutely disgusting piece of worm-ridden filth,” to which Galette snickered. Finally, she reached the end of the letter, and slid back into her chair.

And started giggling.

It evolved into a full body guffaw, rising from deep in her belly, and Synnove bent over as she howled with laughter, for so hard and so long it became silent heaving that shook her whole body. Galette sighed and rolled her eyes, holding on as her perch pitched to and fro. As Synnove finally calmed again, she brushed tears from her eyes.

“Oh, my gods, that was hilarious,” she wheezed. “Gods, I only hope I’m there on the day his hubris gets his sorry plagiarizing ass killed so I can laugh him all the way to the Hell of Water. What a cunt.”

Still chortling and catching her breath, Synnove carefully picked up Bahram Zarir’s letter with the very tip of her thumb and forefinger, and dumped it in the trash.

“Please remind me to get Ivar to burn that later,” she said, wiping her hand on her pants.

Yes, Mama!

Then, finally, she picked up Thaisie’s letter to read.

He really is such a prick, isn’t he? It’s a wonder he hasn’t become a victim of Thavnairian politics, but then he’s probably too thick to be a credible threat to any of his relatives or their myriad enemies. Just a shame we got stuck with him. I’m fairly certain the dean was dreaming about defenestrating him and a few other of the legacy children during the last open thesis read.

In any event, I thought you might enjoy the attached to make up for the toad’s sorry attempt at civility: a copy of the abstract for Master Zarir’s latest article. It’s still technically in peer review, but you’re a peer, as dirty as that no doubt makes you feel. Do what you will with this.

Also, yes, I know, I owe you alcohol. I already have a nice bottle of arak picked out for the next time Thubyrgeim allows you off your leash, or I’m able to attend a Lominsan conference.

Kisses!

Thaisie

“You’re such an asshole, Thaisie,” Synnove said fondly, shuffling the parchment to the second page. Zarir’s greatest weakness as a researcher was that frequently, he did have original ideas…but was frankly terrible at the execution and he outright stole others’ work in bits and pieces and tried to make a whole from it that fell apart if one breathed on it too hard. So, what trash was he on about now?

She read the abstract once. Blinked. Read it again, slower this time, than gave it a third pass.

Synnove set the parchment down flat on her desk, mind racing.

Zarir’s article was in peer review, and therefore it wasn’t public knowledge or in open circulation; the only individuals with copies would be Zarir, the reviewers, and Thaisie. He wouldn’t be able to add anything, with how the University handled its legacies’ attempts at academia, the peer review was mostly for show and the article would be published in the latest issue of their mathematics journal. There would be no turnaround time for Zarir.

And there was no way for anyone else to possibly know what he was publishing. Further, it was incredibly common for academics to hit on similar ideas and develop them in parallel without knowing until the other was published.

Zarir’s idea was similar to that of someone else’s here at the Gate. Oh, not hugely similar, but enough for the mainstays in the field to have a solid guess of which articles either had been reading and drawing inspiration from. But Ahlis had gone off in a completely different direction and what was more, her math was sound, the research actually done rather than theorized, and with a high chance of her succeeding and creating a new breakthrough in arcanima. And Ahlis’s work was ready for presentation at the upcoming research symposium. At which a few of the Hannish—not Zarir, if only because the dean didn’t want to deal with the political fallout of letting him set foot in Limsa Lominsa and the resulting murder—from the University would be attending.

Synnove smiled, slow and deliberate and sharklike, a dark chuckle rising in her throat, as she reached for a piece of fresh parchment and a graphite stick. She was quite thankful now that she hadn’t replied to Ahlis’s note just yet.

Ahlis,

I think you are more than ready! You’ve done your due diligence, even surpassed it, in laying your foundation. I still cannot find flaws in the theorems and equations you’ve laid out—your mathematics might need the occasional proofing, but your grasp of the principles is superb, and we’ve all needed a second set of eyes on our work when we’ve looked at the numbers for too long.

You are an excellent arcanist, Ahlis. As intimidating as it is to present research, the symposium presents a wonderful opportunity to receive feedback and collaborate on further avenues to explore your hypothesis. And, if word on the grapevine is true, I have no doubt your work will be leaving certain members of our community absolutely green with envy.

Give ‘em hell!

-Synnove

She signed with a flourish and folded the letter into neat thirds, wrote Ahlis’s name on it, and bound it with some of the leftover twine from Thaisie’s packet. “Amandina, Roksana,” she called out as she tied off the string, “would you like to run an errand for me?”

The twins poked their heads over the edge of their basket, the picture book they had been carefully pawing through forgotten. Their ears stood straight up, noses twitching in excitement—and then they were tumbling out of the basket and darting right for Synnove’s desk. Oh oh oh yes yes yes! they peeped excitedly. Errand errand errand we can do it!

The carbunclets skidded to a halt at their mama’s feet and looked up at her with huge eyes, their mass of tails shaking with excitement. Galette huffed, exasperated as always with their endless amounts of energy, but didn’t otherwise say anything as Synnove leaned over with the letter in hand.

“Do you remember where the Gate’s mailroom is?” she said, solemn.

Yeah!

The arcanist held out the letter, and Amandina very carefully accepted it, clamping down with her teeth to hold it firmly.

“Bring this down to the mailroom,” Synnove said, “and give it to Coster, and only Coster. He’ll make sure it’s delivered to its intended recipient! And then, once you’re done, come right back here, all right?”

Okay, Mommy! warbled Amandina, a determined set to her face.

We’ll be right back! said Roksana with a peppy chirp.

Then, rather than turn and trundle towards the door to her office, as Synnove thought they would, Roksana took one of Amandina’s ears into her mouth, and with a pop! of displaced air they were…gone.

Dead silence, as arcanist and carbuncle both stared, jaws hanging open, at the space the twins had been in just a few moments before.

“When did they learn to do that?” Synnove said, faint and bewildered.

I dunno. Galette tilted her head. Can I learn how to do that?

“Absolutely not, you’ll use it to break into the coldbox for my pies.”

Galette slumped into a full body sulk.

#ffxivwrite2020 #final fantasy xiv #oc: synnove greywolfe #synnove's carbuncles #other people's characters #ahlis ildilayan #dt's writing