#I fear it is probably greater than many of my colleagues

[clonerightsagenda]

An instructor accused students of using chatGPT to write their papers after 'detecting' this by.... pasting their papers into chatGPT and asking it if it wrote them. So that's going great.

#I volunteered to be on a college taskforce about this bc although my knowledge is limited #I fear it is probably greater than many of my colleagues #and I want to make sure stuff about intellectual property and algorithmic bias get into the conversation #and ALSO biases in how this kind of stuff is enforced #which students are you looking at and saying 'hm I don't BELIEVE you could write this well on your own. #you MUST have had help' #not a good road to go down

[nitefise-art]

Companion fic to my Zero comic, Part 2/?

--

To many scientists, the Great Crater of Paldea was a treasure trove of discoveries to be made and data to be analysed.  This was particularly so for biologists.  The Crater’s age and relative isolation from the rest of the region had resulted in the development of an enormous collection of unique flora and fauna.  Or so Clavell understood.  Jacq loved going on about biodiversity, but there was only so much taxonomy talk one could digest in one sitting.

Seeing the environment up close and personal once again, however, gave Clavell some fresh appreciation for his colleague’s ramblings.  No matter how many times Clavell went to Area Zero, the sight of cascading waterfalls over untamed vegetation never ceased to put him in awe.  How many million sunsets had those sheer cliffs witnessed, untouched, and how many more were yet to come?  Surely mother nature took inspiration from paradise, when it formed Area Zero right in the centre of Paldea.

In that moment, Clavell felt small.

But only for a moment.  There were students he had come to fetch.

The outer walls of Research Station 4 were more tired than Clavell remembered; although, in fairness, one could probably say the same thing about him.  More alarming was the rate at which tera crystals had sprouted in the vicinity.  Station 4 had always been subject to greater tera activity, even when Clavell had worked down here all those years ago.  But never had he imagined that the crystals might threaten to swallow the building whole.

As the door slid open and the glow of the crystals streamed past him into the empty station, Clavell stepped cautiously, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark.  As he had feared, tera crystals had invaded the interior of the station too.  Papers were strewn across the floor, which itself looked like it was long overdue for a good mop. A cylinder lay over a broken pipe. All was silent, save for the grunt from Oranguru, who informed Clavell that he could sense recent activity.

The children have been here.  Fine.  As much as he wanted to examine the place top to bottom (it looked like something had gone on a rampage), he needed to move on.

But then, a grainy voice spoke to him from above.

“Greetings, Director Clavell.  I was not expecting you.”

Clavell started at the sudden noise.  He did not consider himself a man of nervous disposition by any means, but he could not shake off a feeling of unease even once the voice had ceased to speak.  There was no mistaking that familiar timbre, and yet, why did it sound so foreign?  

“Turo?” he called, slightly louder than necessary.  “…Is that you?”

“Please do not venture any further, Director.  I do not wish to endanger your safety.”

Clavell did not at that moment give a Skwovet’s behind about endangerment to his safety.  Who was Turo to talk of safety when he had, presumably, just opened the Zero Gate to a group of children?

“This isn’t time for enigmas, Turo.  Where are my students?”

“Based on my observations, the students are well equipped to handle themselves.”

And was he not?  What kind of joke was this?

“I am sorry Director.  It is time for me to go.”

“Turo, wait!  Turo!!”

This time, the ceiling did not respond. Clavell stared into the darkness in bewilderment.  He would be the first to admit that it was not uncharacteristic of Turo to leave one train of thought unresolved once his attention had been captured by another, but only to a degree.  What could possibly be so urgent?  Surely the students couldn’t already be—

Clavell’s own train of thought was interrupted when Oranguru let out another grunt and pointed at the rubble.  On closer inspection, Clavell realised that he was not pointing at the rubble at all, but the previously unnoticed door behind it. This was rather inconvenient.  Clavell’s highest priority now was to get to the Zero Lab as quickly as possible; at the same time, he knew Oranguru would not veer him off course for a mere trifle. With a sigh, Clavell did as was suggested, making a mental note not to be detained too long.

If he had been more prescient, Clavell would have left the adjoining chamber alone.  Indeed, he would have stayed far, far away from the depts of the Crater entirely, if not for Raifort’s news that morning.  Turo had always had an obsession with Area Zero, one that, in all honesty, Clavell considered erred on the side of unhealthy, and he had not been afraid to say as much.  But in the end, no matter where their conversations led, he always left his friend to his own decisions.  As long as Turo was safe and happy, as far as Clavell was concerned, so was he.  After all, who was he to pronounce on the worth of another man’s treasure?

But despite the soundness of his convictions, as Clavell entered the next room, his legs slowed, his jaw slackened, and what he thought he knew were immutable truths suddenly threatened to collapse around him. The faint glow of tera crystals trembled in his eyes.

Before him, suspended in a vat, was the body of his dear friend, Professor Turo.

#pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon sv #pokemon sv spoilers #clavell #director clavell #turo #professor turo #area zero #paldea #nitefise-art #my writing #zerofic #x

[writer-panda]

Ruin and Rebirth - Chapter 1

Ruin and Rebirth

Chapter 2

Inspired by @jumpingjoy82 on Tumblr. Thank you for the amazing prologue.

I don’t own the characters, only the plot. Miraculous and Justice League belong to their respective creators

--------

"It's okay Marinette. Everything is going to be fine. You’re too young to understand, but it was for the greater good."

To young.

TO YOUNG!

It was all the Justice League's fault. If they kept their incompetent asses out of Paris, none of this would have happened.

Apparently, they just spontaneously decided to go through the Watchtower’s recycling bin, and what they found astonished them. Years upon years worth of pleas for help from Paris.

They decide to finally investigate, and it just so happens that it was during an Akuma Attack, and they threw everything the Parisian heroes were telling them out of the window, wanting to do things their own way.

Superman was one of the ones there.

And they learned just how far the Miracle Cure could go.

He decided to use his super strength and threw a car at the akumatized victim, who moved out of the way at the last minute, so the car sailed right through the Tom & Sabine Bakery, promptly, catching on fire, giving no time for the people inside to get out. No one got out alive.

Ladybug froze for a moment, before fighting with more determination than before, knowing that the Miracle Cure would bring them back.

She was wrong, which brings us back to this point.

"I don't give a damn about you so-called 'greater good' and now you’re telling me, that I'm too young to understand, but am I too young to experience it? Too young to actually see everything and everyone I love torn from me because of these heroes?! Why the hell are they here now? Where were they when this first started? What changed? And now, because of them, my entire family is dead!"

After that everything was hazy, but she knew, she hated superheroes.

They never knew when to stop, and just like Chat Noir, they expected to be praised for whatever happens, no matter if there were casualties or not.

The world would be better off without them.

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

The sun has long since set over Paris. The fires were still burning in some parts of town. For the first time since Ladybug first appeared, the citizens of Paris felt true fear. It was ironic. They didn’t fear the akuma. They feared the heroes that came to their rescue. For the first time in four years, the casualties were piling up. And the akuma was responsible for none.

True, many of them initially asked for it. With each fight, Ladybug and Chat Noir were taking longer. It’s been obvious for some time that they were slowly being worn out. Some media started to criticize the duo, question their skills, age, their right to act in Paris. They weren’t part of the UN Justice League Charter. Their only real authority came from the trust of the citizens themselves. And that trust was lost. The civilian pleas to the Justice League increased in number and frequency. Under public pressure, the mayor had no choice but to issue an official plea for help.

But then, then… the heroes came. 

In retrospection, almost everyone would agree that it was a mistake. Justice League was not used to fighting magical threats. They weren’t practiced in dealing with possessed villains. They didn’t understand. And they treated Ladybug and Chat Noir worse than sidekicks. 

That flying chicken even dared to wrap Chat Noir in a metal bar so he wouldn’t get in the way. 

Ladybug… tried her best. She allowed herself to trust the new heroes. She stopped saving every civilian from the rubble. She focused on the akuma. If heroes didn’t bother with the lives, it must’ve meant they trusted her cure, right?

WRONG

They were like a tank, riding through the city with a singular goal in mind. 

It didn’t help that they deemed the akuma a “world-level threat”. Yeah, right. Stormy Weather was powerful, but the damage could’ve been repaired. 

Or so she thought.

The volcanos, the tsunami, the tornadoes, the earthquakes? Those were fixed. The rubble caused by them was put back in place and those who suffered under them were better than new. 

But not the damage caused by the heroes. 

Not the bakery.

There was no magic in what happened. There was nothing to reverse. Those were human actions. For the first time perhaps, the people could see how much of the damage caused by the fight was the fault of heroes. How many deaths they caused. That is if they admitted, before themselves at least, that it was their fault. 

And yet, the so-called ‘heroes’ dared to lecture her about responsibility. About the sacrifice of few for the lives of many. About the innocence of young. 

She ran away. She managed to dodge them and vanish. Meld with the crowd when there were no cameras in sight and she was sure they couldn’t track her. 

Now, Ladybug stood alone on the top of the Eiffel tower, with her yo-yo communicator in her hand. She sent the message fifteen minutes ago. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but at this point, she no longer cared. There was nothing more for her. 

“He thought this was a trap.” A voice spoke from behind her. Ladybug twisted immediately, taking a guarded stance. She was still avoiding the Justice League after all. Before her stood… someone. She suspected it was an Akuma. The woman had pale skin and wore a black dress, black gloves, and a black veil over her face. 

“It isn’t. I’m alone. The city suffered enough as it is today. I suffered enough.” Ladybug’s voice cracked slightly.

“I see…” The akuma pursed her lips. For a moment, a purple butterfly appeared over her face before the woman nodded. “Fine. Give me your miraculous and I will take you to him.” 

“That isn’t going to work and you know it. You would just leave me stuck here. I’m willing to offer a token of goodwill though.” With that, Ladybug pulled a necklace and dangled it before the akuma. 

“Is that…?” 

“The miraculous of the fox? Yes. No tricks. I want to negotiate. In-person.” She made sure to emphasize the last part. 

The outline of the butterfly appeared in front of the Akuma’s face for a moment before she silently nodded. “I can lead you to him, but not before you reveal your face.”

“Fine.” Ladybug didn’t hesitate. She was past that point long ago. There was no hesitation, no doubt… no regret. Not for her actions anyway. No more.

In the flash of light, instead of Ladybug, Marinette stood before the akuma. 

“You’re…” the woman’s voice was stuck in her throat.

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

Tikki, floating nearby gasped in fear. The Kwami didn’t get a chance to explain before Marinette resumed her transformation. 

“Fine. Let’s go.”

The two leaped from the tower and started to zoom over the city. At first, they remained silent. Neither wanted to speak. It was tense anyway. It was, of course, Marinette who broke the silence first. 

“Your… your look. Have you lost someone today?”

The woman didn’t answer immediately. She appeared to be mulling over the question at first. Or wondering if she should answer.

“A… colleague; coworker. He was… a friend of mine you could say. We’ve been working side-by-side for at least a decade.”

“I see…” Marinette pursed her lips into a thin line. “I’m sorry.” She spoke up after a moment. “I imagine you blame me now?”

“No.” The akuma snapped. “You’re just a child. I put the blame where it belongs. With heroes. And with people who chose to invite them.” 

“Not hawkmoth?” Escaped ladybug’s mouth before she realized it. 

“He… he never wanted this either. He isn’t a villain you believe him to be.” The akuma hesitated for a moment, but Marinette could sense it was her own opinion. She filed it in her brain under interesting. 

-----------

When they arrived at Agreste manor, Marinette was surprised.

When they entered the study, she was baffled.

When they went down the secret elevator, she was angry. 

When she stood before Hawkmoth, she was furious. And it wasn’t because he was her mortal enemy. 

“So that’s why you neglect your only son?!” She screamed at him as soon as he turned to see her. His mouth moved, probably to give some excuse. “I don’t care if you want to rule the world or be a god or whatever. No matter what little sick excuse your brain found to justify your actions. You are not allowed to just ignore Adrien like that! He needs a father. He is a teenager and he needs you!” 

“Madmoiselle Dupain-Cheng.” His voice was cold, but in a different way than she ever heard Gabriel Agreste or Hawkmoth speak. 

“Gabriel Agreste. And I assume you akumatized your Assistant, Nathalie?” She pointed to the woman next to her. 

“Astute observation, Ladybug. You risked a lot coming here to speak with me. I could take your miraculous now, or any other time. You gave me your most precious protection: your secret identity. So… what was that important?”

“I want to know. What is so important to you that you’re willing to go any length to get it?”

“That’s it?” Hawkmoth raised an eyebrow. “That’s all? You’re ready to risk everything over that little piece of knowledge?”

“Yes.” Once more, there was no hesitation. There was no doubt. Her heart had no place for doubts anymore. Her heart was still stuck under three levels worth of rubble. 

“And what, pray tell, would you do if I told you?” He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“That depends.” She could see he was now intrigued, so she started to explain. “On whether I like the goal or not. And on whether you understand fully the implications. If you pass, you will get my miraculous and I will deliver you Chat Noir’s miraculous too. If you fail, you still get my miraculous. But you will never get the ring. I made sure that if something happens tonight, he will retire. He will leave Paris and toss the ring into the ocean in a concrete box. You would be left to torture the city all you wish until the League found you, but the ring’s power would forever remain out of your reach. You would be left with nothing but a criminal record. And your son would sooner than later be left without both parents. Of course, you could abandon your crusade, but then I would’ve won. I’m not a naive girl without a plan. Not anymore.” She spat the last part angrily, but her gaze was not focused on Hawkmoth, but far in the distance. 

“I… see. Clever. You’re right. This will probably end tonight.” He looked her over top to bottom. It was the first time he stood so close face to face with Ladybug. His nemesis. 

Gabriel wasn’t sure if he was impressed with her, or infuriated. Scratch that, he was sure he was both. She outsmarted him. She was willing to make an ultimate sacrifice for the sake of ending the fight. In that very moment, in her determined expression, he saw a reflection of another headstrong woman he knew. It was as if Emilie’s spirit stood before him. 

“So? How will it be?” she asked impatiently.

“Follow me.” He simply motioned for her and started walking. 

Soon, the group entered a large chamber, lit by several lights. In the center of a platform in the far end stood a glass coffin. Even from the distance, Marinette easily saw there was a woman inside. She was quick to pass Hawkmoth and get there, even as he was trying to grab her.

When the akuma and Gabriel arrived, they watched as Marinette was carefully pacing around the coffin and muttering under her breath. 

“She overused the damaged miraculous.” It wasn’t a question, but Hawkmoth answered anyway.

“Yes. Only the wish can bring her back.”

“You’re one of the biggest idiots in this whole city!” The girl screamed. “She is not dead, you moron. There are literally five different ways listed in the book which, may I remind you, you possess!” She continued to yell at him. “Hell! You could akumatize someone and give him healing power. You know… use the butterfly miraculous like it was meant to be used!” She scolded. “But nooo! You’ve got to be an idiot and immediately go for the most dangerous, imprecise, reckless, chaotic, risky solution there was! I’m sure she would’ve been ashamed.” 

Gabriel was at a loss for words. Was it really that easy? It couldn’t have been. He checked several times. He would’ve known. The akuma left Nathalie, who collapsed onto the ground. Some tear stains were now visible on her face. “I… I was just… I did what she told me. Only the wish can bring back the dead.” He stammered. 

“She. Is. Not. Dead.” Marinette made sure to punctuate each word. “She is in a coma. She is alive you moron. Tikki! Spots off!” The flash of light signaled the end of her transformation. “Be silent, little one.” She said in a caring voice. She couldn’t bring herself to take her anger on Kwami, but she couldn’t doubt now. “Akumatize me. Give me the power to heal her.”

The corruption left the akuma that was floating in the air, only for Hawkmoth to get his hands around the white butterfly and pour a new dose of power into it. It flew the short distance between them and sunk into Marinette’s purse. She smirked as the corrupted energy passed through her, turning her into an akuma. That is until she could see how she looked. 

“I’m not sure how you can call yourself a designer and yet dress me in this!” she complained. Her skin was now deep red, the color of blood, and her clothes turned into a white nurse uniform. Still, she walked to the coffin and easily opened the top. From her purse (now medic’s bag) she pulled a needle and injected the content into Emilie.

When the beautiful woman started to move, letting out an exhausted groan, Marinette sighed in relief. 

“Wha… what’s going on… the last thing I… Gabriel!” She bolted upright and immediately moaned in pain. Her hand instinctively flew to her back. “Gabriel Agreste! Did you keep me in this coffin for a whole week!?” She yelled at her husband. “And who’re those two?” She pointed at Marinette, who was smiling next to her, and Nathalie, still exhausted on the floor. “You were supposed to only reveal this to Adrien if anything happened to me. There was no talk about your assistant and… um, who’re you?” The woman turned to the akuma, who sighed and tore a strap of her bag. The butterfly left the item and Marinette reverted back to her normal form. 

“I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m… was… used to be Ladybug.” 

“But you’re just a kid. And why was Ladybug active… Gabriel!” She roared and her husband took a step back. 

Marinette was… surprised. She didn’t expect Emilie to be like that. From what Adrien told her, she was supposed to be the kindest, nicest person in the world. Then again, he might’ve been looking at it through tinted glasses.

“Yup.” The bluenette couldn’t stop herself from commenting. “He decided that the best way to wake you up was to get the miraculi of Ladybug and Black Cat.”

“You nincompoop. That plan was only for when I was dead.” She glared heatedly at her husband and Marinette couldn’t help but be a bit smug. “And you couldn’t get the items from a kid? How many other heroes are there?” 

“Only Chat Noir. He’s my age. And I sometimes call in some help from others.” Marinette supplied quickly. She was having entirely too much fun from watching Emilie tear Hawkmoth a new one. 

“Two kids! You couldn’t defeat two kids! I leave for just one second and you start getting your rear kicked by kids!”

“He also neglected Adrien for the last two years.” Marinette decided to have as much fun as she could while it lasted.

“Gabriel Agreste. You’re officially grounded until I sort this mess. Now take your secretary and leave. I will sort the mess with you later,” she ordered. Her husband could only nod and leave as quickly as possible. 

Marinette was now holding her sides laughing. ”That was amazing. Merci Madame Agreste. I didn’t think I would get to laugh tonight… But this was too good.” 

“Oh sunshine, don’t worry. I will get him in line for you. Whoever decided to let kids fight for them was clearly sick or senile.” 

“Master Fu was… he made some mistakes. I… maybe if I wasn’t so young…”

“It’s not your fault. Whatever you blame yourself for. You shouldn’t have been responsible for Paris. Or whatever else my husband did. I think some time on the couch will do him great.” The woman got up and walked over to pull Marinette into a hug. She then led the girl back to the (now half-open) coffin and seated them both on the edge. “Why don’t you tell me what ails you? I’m sure I can help.” 

For a moment, Marinette looked the woman in the eyes. Then, she started talking. She told her everything.

About a class full of idiots who believed every lie and actively fought against her.

About Lila, who manipulated everyone and did everything to turn her life into a personal version of hell. 

About the teachers, who preferred to let her be walked on then do their jobs.

About her partner, the dorky cat who couldn’t take life seriously and at times was immature. She came to like his antics, but he infuriated her as much as he kept her sane. 

About the so-called heroes, who came into the city and ruined her life.

About the destroyed bakery. The four bodies inside.

“It was her birthday. Today my nonna had her sixtieth birthday. We were celebrating when the Akuma happened. Except the Justice League came. Funny thing. The cure can return anyone killed by magic. It can’t return those killed by aliens tossing cars around.” 

“Do you have any other family?” Emilie asked, worried about the girl. She walked through so much pain in her short life. 

“My uncle… but he lives in Shanghai now. Papa was the only child and Maman moved here from Asia… I’m not sure what will happen next.” The girl revealed. 

“Next? Next, you will come live with us. No strings attached. I have no need for your earrings or other miraculous and I can keep my husband in check. I owe you that much.”

“I… you don’t owe me anything, Madame.” The girl quickly protested. “You’re not responsible for what happened. I don’t blame your family. Those were the American heroes who killed my parents. They were the ones that destroyed half the city. They are the ones to blame,” Marinette informed the woman in a solemn tone. 

“And that’s why I want you to stay with me. With us. I can protect you. Teach you. You can have your vengeance on those who wronged you. I can make you a queen. They will regret the day they wronged you.”

“I… I accept.” Marinette bowed her head.

#miraculous #maribat #justice league #dc #dcu #dc comics #ladybug #evil!Emilie Agreste #hawkmoth #bamf marinette

[sorceressferaly]

It’s been fun...

Friday the 7th of May marked my 4.5 year anniversary at Star Stable, and my last day as an employee at Star Stable Entertainment.

Being with Star Stable, I've learned a lot about communication, project management, data analysis, and truly "grokking" your work, from tools, to colleagues, to end user (that’s you reading this, probably! Yes, you! You are awesome!)

It’s been quite a journey, and one that I’m glad to say that I’ve shared that journey with an awesome fanbase.

While this means I am not qualified to answer any questions on behalf of SSE anymore, I can say that I’ve grown fond of the entire world of Jorvik, so I’ll certainly be sticking around as a fan. Mostly to just make silly memes, or post theories without the fear that they will be regarded as canon.

I know that I’m leaving the future development in the game in some very capable hands, as several colleagues that I’ve worked with – including @Jorvegian-Chronicler – will carry the game forwards to greater heights. I’m proud of many of my contributions to the game, but not a single one of them have been accomplished alone. Game development is a complex effort, and the lone developer is almost entirely a myth.

Still, I am aware rumors tend to grow in communities when certain creators leave, partly because it’s easier to look for a simple reason to blame because structural issues are complex, and partly because when there isn’t enough information people tend to assume the worst. This one time, an animator announced that he quit, and we had to deal with people perpetrating the rumor that we didn’t have animators for years after that. (That was never true.) Problems tend to spawn from structural reasons rather than individuals.

Anyhow, that’s why I want to make it clear that while there has certainly been merited discourse towards SSE in the community lately, that is not why I am leaving. In January, Sumo Leamington approached me with an amazing job offer – something I cannot talk about due to NDAs - but just hearing about it made me realize how much I wanted to work on that project. A few months of interviews with Sumo proceeded to give me a great impression of the company and their culture, and when they confirmed that they would hire me if I was interested, I realized that this was the time to move on towards new adventures!

At the end of May, I’m incredibly excited to join Sumo Leamington, but for now I’m going on vacation for a bit.

This is Sorceress Feraly, hanging up my Game Master hat for now! Now to draw some Mayalex or something!

P.S. As things are usually worked on quite far ahead from reaching their release, the final things I have been working on have not been released yet and will not be for quite a while – so I’ll look forward to the future releases so I can talk about it.

#sso #star stable online #game master #starstable

[ibethalantyr]

To His Most Radiant of Lathander, Kelddath Ormlyr, Governor of Beregost

Your Excellency,

Please find enclosed with this letter extracts copied from my personal papers detailing the incident we discussed last month.  Sincere apologies for the delay: I have found my papers to be in an odd state of disarray owing to an (unrelated) magical problem. This manuscript was created approximately three days after the incident described, during which time I had undertaken further investigations, the fruits of which are also recorded here.  I assert, on oath as you instructed, that no material has been altered or omitted within its continuous length, making said length wholly your own fault.  The absence of personal names is consistent with the original, a practice I have adopted in all similar papers as a defense against magical surveillance. No post facto alterations have been made.  “The gnome” refers to that individual whose name I disclosed to you at our earlier meeting.

I hereby consent that you or your appointed representative inspect the original to confirm my sworn assertions above, with the stipulation that such an inspection take place within the walls of the High Hedge House, as we discussed earlier discussed.

***

The old conjurer is convinced that there are few things easier than for a wizard to go bad, and few things worse than a bad wizard.  The gnome, unfortunately, is just the latest proof.

Upon reading this line, he is discomfited to discover that it sounds like the product of some Athkatlan zealot pamphleteer rather than a long practicing conjurer with some professional pride.  As such, some clarifications are needed before he proceeds further.

There are “few things worse than a bad wizard” because wizards hold considerable power for making their plans and desires a reality, and so when those plans or desires turn toward the selfish, the callous, or the hateful, the scale of damage a wizard then creates is larger than the average creature.  Powerful wizards can - and do - kill, enslave, and mutilate for no reason at all, or for no reason other than that they want to.  Even the gnome’s peculiar penchant for petrification is not unique, although the power to do so is unique to wizards.  But while the power to do certain kinds of damage is unique to us, it is not uniquely large: a bad king, or a bad merchant, or a bad priest can leave a trail of damage at least as long behind them.

Even when writing “there are few things easier than for a wizard to go bad,” it is not the old conjurer’s intention to assert that there is anything inherently corrupting about either the study or practice of the Art.  Years of honing and exercising power - whether arcane or otherwise - simply make it fit comfortably in the hand, and may (not to say must) bring out the worst parts of a practitioner’s personality.  Magic - or better, power - will not make a person bad, but it may make a bad person worse.

The gnome’s first letter arrived a little more than a year ago.  He was a very pleasant correspondent: a fellow conjurer (unusual for one of his species) who was pursuing a research project, a project on which he had hoped for some assistance.  He was interested in a refinement of the monster summoning spell which would allow for the conjuration of a specific type of creature - a greater basilisk.  Both the specificity of the summoning and the power of the creature involved would represent significant advancements to the classic form of the monster summoning genre, making this a very exciting project indeed. To be invited to contribute to such an undertaking was extremely flattering.

What prompted the first letter (or so the gnome claimed at the time) was a treatise that the old conjurer had written many years before, dealing with the bound loyalty of summoned creatures.  This is a topic about which most specialists show little interest, but which was especially interesting to the old conjurer due to its relevance to his old favorite question (creation vs. summoning). The gnome’s interest was more practical. Unless the loyalty of a summoned basilisk could be assured with the same level of certainty as for other objects of a monster summoning, the spell itself would be nearly suicidal to attempt. Flattered by the approach and (to tell the truth) lonely for professional conversation, the old conjurer was only too happy to reply.

And so the correspondence began.  Every few weeks, a new letter would arrive, full of compliments for the old conjurer’s insights and with new questions, born (it would seem) from the gnome’s ongoing observations of the basilisk’s life cycle.  It made for a pleasant diversion from the often mundane work of a magical shopkeeper, and reminded the old conjurer of his younger, more ambitious days.

Then, about a month ago, a letter of a different sort came. Still full of effusive praise, but this time with a request rather than a question.  Could the old conjurer create an item - an amulet or a ring perhaps - incorporating some of the techniques they had discussed?  Such an item would be an invaluable tool for studying basilisks in the wild, and potentially provide an essential proof of concept for the loyalty portion of the planned spell which, from the sound of it, was nearly complete. Excited by the prospect of contributing, even in a small way, to such a breakthrough, the old conjurer readily agreed, and set a date for the gnome to come to his stately house and collect the item in question.

The meeting - their first and only in the flesh - had started out quite cordially, though in hindsight there had been a number of danger signs even then that the old conjurer should have recognized. The gnome had been immoderately pleased with the ring, which he expected would serve only too well. When the old conjurer, who had planned a number of experiments to test the efficacy of the new and innovative enchantment, heard this, he expressed considerable surprise.  How could the gnome be so certain?  He smiled chillingly, and in a voice I will never forget, replied,

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

The gnome then began to cast.  Based on the wording and structure, it was a gate spell of some sort, though modified and radically simplified, probably castable as a sixth-tier working. At the end of the incantation, the gnome spat out an object, probably the scale of a greater basilisk, given that that is what appeared in the middle of the old conjurer’s sitting room.  Before he could recover from the shock of this, the gnome brandished his new ring and ordered the beast to turn the old conjurer to stone.

By happy accident, the old conjurer was prepared for such an attack.  Expecting to see a controlled version of the proposed summoning spell in action, he had prepared a contingency spell that would protect him from petrification in the event that a basilisk or similar creature came within 60 feet of him. While the old conjurer had been caught unaware, the spell had not, and so he was protected from the attack even before it was ordered.

Unfortunately, he had lost valuable time, and the gnome at least had come prepared for a fight.  Magical duels general follow a classic form.  First, cast spells of defense, generally an illusion or a direct abjuration.  By the time the old conjurer had gotten to his feet, the gnome was already mirror imaged.  A low level defense, but a wise one on the whole. As a fellow conjurer, he knew only too well that his opponent had made no study of the sort of major divinations that provide the most direct countermeasure. He had also guessed rightly that I would be unwilling to destroy my own house with a fireball, and a mirror image provides more than adequate protection against more precise forms of offensive spell casting.  It also frees up higher tier spells for offensive use.

But not quite yet.  For, before moving on to physical harm, most mages will first make an attack on the minds of their opponents, a gambit that is both defensive and offensive, in that it undermines the ability to attack and defend simultaneously. Enchantment spells are the most common choice in such situations. The gnome had instead begun a spell which used heavily necromantic vocabulary. Horror, then: lower level and quicker to cast than most offensive enchantments, but correspondingly easier to resist. With a mirror image in place, successful disruption would be very unlikely, even if the old conjurer had prepared for a duel.  He had not.  He is a shopkeeper, and had been expecting a pleasant conversation with a colleague and then a normal day’s work.

But one must work with the materials to hand. Having been planning to finish brewing a stock of potion, the old conjurer had a spell of lesser invisibility prepared. Even with the gnome’s head start, he would be able to cast it on himself before the horror spell was complete. He did. Barely.

Luckily - or perhaps not; fear had been the old conjurer’s frequent companion for years - he was able to resist the spell. Even more luckily, his invisible state meant the gnome had no way of knowing that. This was not the sort of fight for which he had prepared. In all likelihood, the gnome had expected either to turn his host to stone at once or else to engage in a lengthy and intricate spell duel. Given the low level opening moves, he had probably reserved his higher level preparations (which would be at least sixth-tier, judging by the gate spell) for breaching spell defenses and dealing maximum punishment afterward. A game of cat and mouse with an old coward was not at all what he had been expecting.

He said as much, and more besides. That the old conjurer was an self-absorbed fool, so easy to flatter and manipulate. That he, the gnome, had only ever been interested in controlling basilisks and that the method had not concerned him. That he had already worked out the gate spell before writing for the first time, having been living for some time at a basilisk’s nest in the barrens east of town. That he had only ever wanted a control item, and had been feeding the old conjurer the information - and the simpering flattery - that he would need to complete it. He had discovered the treatise later and thought it would be the perfect way to start an acquaintance, and that the old conjurer would be the perfect mark. Real mages, after all, aren’t soft-skinned school boys interested in books and minutia.  Real wizards seek to be as powerful as possible for as little effort as possible, so that they could do was they pleased. And that what pleased him was to take possession of this comfortable house and mount its previous owner on one of the turrets as a gargoyle.

How much of this is true, the old conjurer cannot be sure. He is a fool, certainly. No question of that.

But one does not live to be an old fool without learning a thing or two. He had known fear and danger, and he had known magical duels aplenty once upon a time. In that time, the old conjurer had discovered - like many greater wizards before and since - that winning such a contest has less to do with sheer power than many mages would like to think. At least as important, perhaps even more important, is timing. The most powerful mages can hurl swarms of fiery meteors capable of devastating whole towns. Such castings take time, however, and in the time that a great archmage is rattling off the necessary incantation, the greenest apprentice can shoot off a single magic missile, breaking his counterpart’s concentration and wasting the whole effort. And if that apprentice has brave friends with weapons, that may be the end of that.

As he crept invisibly around the sitting room, listening to the gnome rant and watching him pocket various valuable items, the old conjurer was trying to work out the timing. Presuming he did nothing more vigorous than creep, the invisibility spell would last a full day. He could try to escape and raise the alarm, but he was unwilling to leave the gnome alone in the house, with so many valuable and dangerous weapons with which to arm himself. (Truth be told, he was also unwilling to confess to others the depth of his ego and his blindness, an unwillingness he still feels). Perhaps he could simply leave the room, grab his staff and a few scrolls, then return to the fight on equal footing? But the gnome seemed to be thinking along similar lines, for he quickly ordered his pet monster to block one door, and was now busily looking for any others. As it happened, there weren’t any secret passages out of the room, a problem to which the old conjurer should tend soon.

So, it would come down to timing, If he simply waited, the mirror image would wear off in a matter of minutes, leaving the gnome vulnerable to attack. But any such attack would reveal his presence not only to the gnome but to the basilisk as well. How long the monster would remain was impossible to say. Summoning spells generally expire after about an hour, but this wasn’t a traditional summoning spell.  How long could he afford to wait?

The gnome was getting more and more frustrated. He began to cast again, this time an enchantment. The old conjurer steeled himself, ready to fight off an intellectual or emotionally attack. But then he recognized the spell: the greater malison, designed to weaken his magical defenses. His impatient house guest wanted this over as quickly as possible, and intended to make it more likely that whatever dire or spectacular working he attempted next would be the last he would need. But what would he choose? 

Creeping closer, the old conjurer watched as the gnome pulled from his pocket a single black pearl. As he crushed it to dust, the conjurer moved too. Picking up an empty potion bottle, he smashed it to shards against the table.  The gnome, who had just begun the death spell incantation, flinched at the noise, and at his enemy’s sudden appearance within arms reach of him. He did not break his concentration, however. The conjurer began an incantation of his own: feeblemind.  The spell was complex, though less so than the death spell.  He should be able to complete it before the gnome could complete his.  Then it would be down to whether the gnome would be able to resist.  Seeming to realize this, he split into a mad grin.  At the same moment, his mirror images flickered and went out, leaving only the real gnome, still mid spell.

And the old conjurer cast.  But rather than casting at the gnome himself, he aimed his spell squarely at the ring on his finger.

The old conjurer is a shopkeeper, and he knows a thing or two about magic items. One thing he knows is that properly enchanted items remain receptive to magic for a certain amount of time after the completion of the spell. The ring was still within that receptive period, and by design. The old conjurer had not yet cast the spell that would make it’s basilisk-control powers permanent, wanting to be sure first that the experimental spell was effective. Instead, he added the feeblemind spell, because of something else he knows. When enchanting items, it is possible for the items to “resist” receiving the spell, much as a person might. An items ability to resist is always tied to the enchanter’s own magical resistance, resistance that the gnome himself had attacked. So, by targeting the ring rather than the gnome himself, the old conjurer had greatly diminished the ability of the gnome to resist the spell.

The fact that he sits here writing about it attests to his success. The feeblemind spell attached itself to the ring and badly damaged the mind of the casting gnome. His death spell died on his lips, though the look of shock and incredulity that he wore suggested that his mind was not so damaged as was usually the case. The basilisk, too, linked to the mind of its master, simply stood stupidly in the doorway of sitting room.

Knowing the importance of timing, the old conjurer set about removing his guests, both wanted and unwanted, as quickly as possible. Given the hasty construction of the gate spell - the old conjurer suspects that the gnome had opted for such a simple conjuration as a time saving measure - he surmised that a simple “dispel magic” would dispatch the basilisk back where it came from. Stuffing the basilisk scale back into the gnome’s gaping mouth, the old conjurer focused his dispelling on the creature.  Both it, and its master, vanished without a trace, leaving the old conjurer with a bleeding hand (he’d needed the glass for his spell), a wrecked sitting room, and a sick, empty feeling.

In the time since he has tended his hand with bandages and the feeling with research (the room will have to wait until his hand is better). This is what the old conjurer has discovered so far. The “summoning” spell the gnome created was in fact a modified gate spell. He was able to cast it at the sixth tier rather than the usual ninth because of his deep knowledge of basilisks and, more importantly, because he had hidden the basilisk nearby, in a small cove on the coast. The sirines had told him that they had seen a gnome matching his guest’s description anchoring a ship there for the last several weeks, most recently unloading a large crate. Disturbingly, it was one of several. The rest were not onboard when the ship returned for its addled master a few days later. His mind was apparently intact enough for him to operate the ship, though not successfully.  It wrecked a few miles to the south. The whereabouts of the gnome himself are at this time unknown, but inquiries continue.  Hopefully, his mind is now too damaged to perform further magic, or at least magic at the level he once practiced.  It would be foolish to take too much for granted, however.  And to judge by his horrific actions so far, a diseased mind did not stop him from being a mage before I intervened, so there is no reason to expect that it will be so now.

It is far too easy for a wizard to go bad, whether out callous greed or ego and loneliness. A lesson learned.

***

Well, that’s the worst of it. I suspect he’s hiding somewhere northeast of town, but it would probably be best to wait for him to come to us rather than place a bounty on his head.  If he remains in possession of his powers and his monsters, he will be a more formidable foe than most around here can manage, and if we are to fight him ourselves, I would prefer to have the advantage of defense.  But then, perhaps I am a coward after all.

-T

#an old conjurer's memoirs #bg1 #baldur's gate #wizard #mage #this took forever #and i cut so much #and it's still so long #ugh

[hellomynameisbisexual]

In early April, the LGBTQ publication Queerty ran a piece called “Why does bisexuality still make us so uncomfortable?” in which the author, Jeremy Helligar, describes the moment that a date told him he was bisexual.

“I told him it didn’t matter to me, but I lied,” Helligar writes, explaining that the stereotype of bisexuals having “more options” made him nervous.

Although Helligar says he’s not the type to “side-eye” bisexual people and that he accepts them “in theory,” he is, in reality, reproducing biphobic rhetoric that many bisexuals hear on a nearly daily basis.

Biphobia (the fear and dislike of bisexual people and others who have the potential to be attracted to more than one gender) has been studied for decades. Used by bisexual activists since the 1970s, the term was brought into prominence in 1992 by the researcher Kathleen Bennett, who talked about the “denigration of bisexuality as a valid life choice.” In 2002, Patrick Mulick and Lester Wright developed the “Biphobia Scale,” a set of thirty questions which they used to measure negativity towards bisexual people. Mulick and Wright were the first researchers to confirm that bisexual people experienced “double discrimination”: that is, negative behavior based on their sexual orientation from gay and lesbian people as well as from straight people.

Almost two-thirds of bisexual respondents to one 2015 survey reported hearing biphobic jokes at work. In another survey the same year, nearly half of bisexual respondents reported facing biphobia from their doctors. Biphobia impacts bisexuals’ health and earning power. And biphobia can have more dangerous effects on bisexuals’ lives: Among multiple factors analyzed by Marywood University professor of psychology Susan Turell and her colleagues, “bi-negativity” was the greatest predictor of whether a person was likely to be abusive to their bisexual intimate partner.

In early April, the Daily Beast shared a powerful profile of Dr. Brian Dodge, a researcher on bisexuality and biphobia at Indiana University. Dr. Dodge’s work with the Bisexualities: Indiana Attitudes Scale (BIAS) has revealed the depth and breadth of biphobia expressed by gay, lesbian, and straight people across the United States. In 2016, Dr. Dodge and his team found that while modern attitudes towards gay and lesbian people have undergone a marked positive shift, overall attitudes of gay, lesbian, and straight people toward bisexual people have merely shifted from “very negative to neutral” over the past decade. Attitudes towards bisexual men remained lower than towards bisexual women.

Also in 2016, Dr. Tangela Roberts and others asked more than 700 bisexual people about their experiences of discrimination in various contexts. They found that while bisexual participants reported higher quantities of discrimination from heterosexual people compared to gay and lesbian people, the relative impact of the discrimination was the same from both groups, negatively affecting how the bisexual respondents viewed their own internal bisexual identities.

While these studies shed important light on the extent of biphobia faced by bisexual people, they don’t really examine why biphobia is so prevalent among lesbian, gay, and straight people. In fact, it is very difficult to research causality—there are often many competing and compounding factors that lead to discrimination, and it can be difficult to pinpoint exactly which factors are most indicative.

In March, the Journal of Sex Research published a study that tested participants’ assumptions about hypothetical straight, lesbian, and bisexual women and found that bisexual women were viewed as more confused, promiscuous, and neurotic than straight and lesbian women. Alon Zivony, the author of the study, theorized that “bisexual stereotypes seem to be deduced based on the idea that men and women are opposites: if one holds two opposing attractions, then it stand to reason that this person will be confused.”

Late last year, Nicole Johnson and MaryBeth Grove published a paper looking into possible causes for the intensely high rates of sexual violence that bisexual women face. (Nearly half of all bisexual women have experienced rape and three-quarters of bisexual women have experienced sexual violence, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.) Johnson and Grove hypothesize that hypersexualization of bisexual women, plus biphobic harassment and bisexual women’s greater likelihood of substance use, may compound to increase the probability of sexual assault.

The authors do not, however, address the complex correlation between sexual violence and substance use and abuse: it is clear that substance use does not cause sexual violence, and in fact substance use and abuse may be indicative of trauma from sexual violence and other traumas associated with biphobia.

Recent research on the attitudes of college students towards bisexual and transgender people found that students who were afraid of ambiguity—who preferred to see things in black and white—were also more likely to express biphobia and transphobia. And queer theory supports this finding: Bisexuality doesn’t immediately answer the question of “who will this person be attracted to,” which may frustrate people used to making assumptions based on sexual orientation.

“People fear what they can’t wrap their heads around and the idea of being capable of being attracted to more than one type of person rejects everything we’ve been taught about how love, sex, attraction, and the human brain work,” Denarii Grace, a singer-songwriter, poet, and activist told me in an interview.

The author of the original Queerty article pinned his own biphobia to his jealousy over his date’s past partners: “I don’t see [bisexuality] as a layover on the way to straight (for women) or gay (for men), as I’ve heard some people describe it. The B in LGBTQ is as legitimate as any of the letters surrounding it. But if I’m being completely honest, a certain green-eyed monster was controlling my innermost thoughts. I hated myself even more for being swayed by the stereotype that bisexual people are sluttier than the rest of us because they have more options.”

In six sentences, the author hit several major stereotypes of bisexuality, common themes in the biphobia that bisexual people hear every day. The author closes with “I don’t know if I’ll ever be as comfortable with B as I am with G, but in this brave new LGBTQ world of sexual fluidity, maybe there’s still hope for me.”

But given the impacts of biphobia on bisexual people, it’s clear that it is we bisexual people who need hope.

UPDATE: This article has been updated to clarify when the term “biphobia” came into use.

#bi tumblr #bisexuality is valid #bisexuality #support bisexuality #bi #bi pride #lgbtq community #lgbtq #lgbtq pride #pride #bisexual nation #bisexual #bisexual education #bi+ #bi positivity #bisexual community #bisexual rights #bisexual injustice #bisexuality in the media #bisexual info #bisexual facts #support bisexual people #respect bisexual people #bisexual representation #bi youth #bisexual youth #bisexual pride #biphopia #end biphobia #biphobic

[pk-majora]

Exploring my natal chart pt.3. idk how to describe this one other than me looking at my placements i understand the least lmfao.

So my Saturn is in Aries and is in the third house and this is what I found about that:

"Saturn in the 3rd House in Aries – With Saturn in the 3rd house in Aries, there is a penchant for communication that is direct, candid and to the point. These individuals don't beat around the bush and they have a certain confidence and enthusiasm that compels others to believe in them."

SOURCE: https://astroligion.com/saturn-in-3rd-house/

"If the third house starts in the sign of Aries, we see an individual with a fast mind and an aggressive approach to communication. This is someone energized and filled with active ideas, whose mind never stops working."

SOURCE: https://www.astrology-zodiac-signs.com/astrology/houses/third/

"People born with Saturn in the third house in their birth chart are precise, resilient and capable of seeing things in depth. They can organize very efficiently and deal with life in the most traditional and conservative way.

It’s possible they’ll have an inclination towards mathematics and logic, their mind being very capable of developing great strategies when put in such a situation.

These people don’t like to waste too much time with a project and prefer to be alone because they sometimes feel like people can only bring them trouble. This is because they may encounter problems with communication and can’t find the way to express themselves clearly all the time.

The main purpose of the 3rd house sits in the subconscious functioning of the natives’ mind, when these are dealing with their most comfortable surroundings.

This house refers to the purest way people behave and communicate or how they function when interacting, so with that in mind, it’s obvious that it doesn’t deal with the unconscious.

It seems the small things people say and do unconsciously are the ones that present who they actually are!

Saturn in 3rd house natives may seem shy and distant. Some can be turned off by them, so they should listen and actually use what they have learned.

This way, they won’t need to do a lot of talking, still their loved ones will adore them for listening.

Saturn in 3rd house individuals have some serious difficulties when communicating.

These natives believe their opinions will get seriously criticized, therefore, they’re insecure and wouldn’t even think of trying to talk about their feelings or thoughts.

Because of this, they’re unwilling to communicate and are scared of making a mistake. It’s normal for them to be shy and always concerned with others’ opinion of them.

Talking is frequently a challenge for them and they could have dealt with some kind of speech impairment when young.

Saturn in 3rd house people aren’t necessarily spontaneous as far as learning goes, small-talk and day-to-day discussions about the latest news.

They simply don’t have a lot of interest in simple subjects and are all the time serious because they dislike superficiality in all its forms.

They may be very good when it comes to research, but are often scared or not at all bold enough to deal with the new and the methods that haven’t been tested.

With Saturn here, things generally refer to a highly analytical and precise mind, which can be the effect of many principles taught to them during their first years of school.

From a young age, some of them have been educated to respect every rule, so they may seem insecure when dealing with the unknown as they take their time to act and are cautious.

Many of them have only studied and thought of nothing else, while others were denied to attend a college with strict regulations, where they’d have felt really good.

As children, they probably felt unappreciated for their way of thinking and even called dumb. If disregarded and told their opinions don’t matter, it’s possible they may have learned to remain silent and to open only when thinking they have something very interesting to say.

The psychological buildup of people usually depends upon what’s known, tested and appreciated.

Saturn in 3rd house individuals deal with cognitive activities by insisting and striving for perfection, security for them being attained only when the truth is understood and every little detail has been studied.

If not, any form of advice coming from others can intimidate them. The slow movement of Saturn supplies many problems in matters relating to home and family members.

Natives having Saturn in 3rd house typically start speaking at an older age than other children, could have a somewhat sluggish and fearful speech or can be exaggeratedly timid to talk about their own ideas.

They may take a while to process all the information coming towards them, and while their intelligence isn’t lower when compared to others’, Saturn often makes them seem less smart.

Even if they may possess a high intellect, their surroundings would make them feel too scared to talk, which they accept as a reality until seeing what their speech can do.

It doesn’t matter if men or women, they could be late bloomers who use only their own pace. Saturn makes these natives extremely stable when it comes to the knowledge they’ve obtained throughout the years.

What they have heard is strongly fixated in their mind and generates new ideas, which can produce an even more developed mind in the long run, a greater understanding than the one of somebody who absorbs data fast, yet in a chaotic manner.

Saturn is the bully of all planets, making people with it in the 3rd house seem distant or too shy. Situations in which communication is needed can make them feel uneasy, but since they don’t necessarily say too many things, they have this great way of listening.

And it’s not that they want to be this way, they just are! Don’t even think they will ever speak in public, yet Saturn in the 3rd house makes them silent and ready to develop great observational skills that eventually lead them to success.

They prefer to work in the shadows, sometimes as journalists or scientists and are disciplined or very well coordinated, finding those who happen talkative and unorganized very bothersome.

They have probably been discouraged to talk when young, possibly because their parents considered some things should never be discussed.

Saturn in the 3rd house can even briefly disrupt them in school as well, however, they will surely devote a lot of their time and efforts to the aspects of life related to education.

They may need to study twice as harder, but at least they have their own strategies when it comes to working towards reaching their objectives.

It’s possible they’ll want to achieve great successes in research, but for this to happen, fighting their own anxieties would become very important.

It’s good that Saturn provides patience and endurance, so these would be two of their advantage when it comes to accomplishing any type of task.

Their communication is lacking a lot of heart and soul, therefore, they won’t call or text a person until initially determining what they want to say.

This can be terrific for some professions, especially those that require the employees to be as discreet as possible.

Natives with Saturn in the 3rd house are fantastic at managing confidential information and working for newspapers, or for tasks where they don’t need to interact that much with their colleagues and superiors.

They’re also cautious and manage to obtain results faster than others because they’re always minding their own business.

It’s suggested they spend some more time examining other individuals and their desires because this can help them determine what they want too and they surely are capable of good relationships.

They should use their instincts and have significant talks with both their family and friends.

Relaxing and letting their few communication abilities unfold will put them in the ideal direction, so they’ll eventually learn how to talk more openly, which can be their life’s challenge."

SOURCE: https://i.thehoroscope.co/saturn-in-3rd-house-what-it-means-for-your-personality-and-life/

(Aquarius ascendant) "If Saturn is placed in the sign of Aries in the 3rd house but if the 3rd lord Mars is placed in the sign of Scorpio in the ***10th house*** then people working in mines, chemical industry, or petrochemical industry as engineers or as workers are generally seen from this placement. Scorpio is a sign of digging and drilling and so people involved in a type of work where there is digging or drilling involved can also be seen from this placement. Also, people working with construction equipment such as construction vehicles or ploughing can also be seen. People working in coal, oil, and gas industries can also be seen such as working on underground pipelines."

SOURCE: https://www.rajbihani.com/raj/1158/

***I just thought this one was interesting bc all of this is true for except my scorpio mars is in the ninth house... so idk how accurate it makes the whole statement.***

#my natal chart #pt 3

[immcrtalised]

LFRP - Mackenzie Killian - Crystal Data Center

the basics ––––

NAME: Mackenzie Killian

AGE: 24; 26th Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon

RACE: Hyur Midlander  Veena Viera

GENDER: Cisgender Female

SEXUALITY: Heterosexual

MARITAL STATUS: Single

SERVER: Balmung

physical appearance ––––

HAIR:  Blonde, chin-length, shaggy

EYES: Blue

HEIGHT: 5 fulms 8 ilms

BUILD: Wiry, muscled, with broad hips

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Freckles, scar across the bridge of her nose

COMMON ACCESSORIES: A gaelikitten named Fitz, septum piercing

personal ––––

PROFESSION: Machinist, engineer, troubleshooter; currently on retainer with Devon’s Irregulars. Occasional scout and ne’er-do-well. She’s actually a much more talented engineer than she lets on; both arms and her legs from the knee down are prosthetic and require constant maintenance, a glamour keeps them looking normal. People with the senses to do so would get a strong magitek “smell” off her, more than just one who handles it would exude. She’s also prone to greater glamours, changing her racial appearance on a whim (she went Xaela, for example, to better move around the Azim Steppes).

HOBBIES: Tinkering, gun smithing, people watching. Currently trying to be less embarrassing with the sword. Has picked up archery to try things the “old-fashioned” way. Also working to understand the nuances of gunbreakers.

LANGUAGES: Eorzean, Xaelic, Doman, working on Hingan

RESIDENCE: Her free company estate in The Mist

BIRTHPLACE: East Shroud

PATRON DEITY: Halone, the Fury

FEARS: The unknown, vast void intelligences, crickets

relationships –––-

SPOUSE: None

CHILDREN: None

PARENTS: Robert Killian (father), Janet Killian (nee Hayes, mother)

SIBLINGS: Franklin Killian (brother)

OTHER RELATIVES: Soon-Yi Killian (nee Long, sister-in-law), Marigold Killian (niece); extended family on both sides.

PETS: Fitz, her boon companion (he’s actually a very realistic automaton)

TRAITS ————-

extroverted / introverted / in between

disorganized / organized / in between

close minded / open-minded / in between

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious / reckless / in between

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved / in between

leader / follower / in between

empathetic / unemphatic / in between

optimistic / pessimistic / in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy / in between

cultured / un-cultured / in between

loyal / disloyal / in between

faithful / unfaithful / in between

additional information ––––

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

possible hooks ––––

She’s spent some time on the Gyr Abanian front doing recon against the Garlean troops. The conflict’s over now, but she may’be been spotted before.

Business with the machinists’ guild in Ishgard

Frequent traveler, from Limsa Lominsa all the way to Kugane and back

Likes to pub crawl on her time off

Someone willing to help her with swordsmanship. She really is terrible.

Questions about her tech? Have you discerned Fitz’ true nature?

what I’m looking for ––––

Friend, colleagues, former flings, rivals - you name it, I’m looking for it for Mackenzie. She’s a very sociable character, and I can’t see her keeping to herself for very long. She’s prone to approaching people on her own. More than happy to shuttle between servers on the Crystal Data Center to meet folks! I’m also more than happy to RP on Tumblr or Discord.

oocly, I am ––––

Easy-going

Friendly and helpful

Adaptable to many different stories and situations

An experienced writer and gamer, comfortable with many kinds of roleplay

A giant nerd

you can contact me via ––––

Discord - tanaloth#3415, probably your best bet as I have it up on my computer and my cell phone

@crystalxivrp​ @balmungrp​ @mooglemeet​

#mackenzie killian #veena viera #balmung #lfrp #gunner at large #fantasia addict #hopping on the viera bandwagon #pun intended

[dxmedstudent]

I’m always happy to see articles about people sharing their divorce experiences, or enoying their second (+) weddings. What an act of love and optimism!

Divorce isn’t an evil - it’s a necessary end to a contract that isn’t working. It’s a heartbreaking resolution to personal tragedy. But it’s absolutely necessary, and it isn’t shameful, and it needs to be destigmatised. My experience of divorce growing up was limited - I knew my friends had divorced parents. I knew one of my wonderful grandmothers had left her husband at a time when divorce was incredibly taboo - whatever that man did to deserve it, it must have been awful.  I think of how stigmatised divorce was, and I still burn with rage that anyone should suffer twice - both the terrible marriage and the social consequences afterwards. I think of how hard it can be, for kids of divorced parents, to trust themselves - in the same way that kids from awful parents fear they won’t be good parents because they’ve never seen it modelled. But I know that with patience and support and work people can far exceed what they’ve been exposed to. I can’t help thinking about divorce as a 30 something who may eventually get married.  First you reach that part of life when all your friends start settling down, getting married and having kids.  And then you get to the point a few years later when friends are getting divorced.  I know people whose marriages are in trouble who have only just gotten married, and I suspect I’ll know more as time goes by. It’s something I know could easily happen to me, too - that’s just statistical probability. 

I don’t think we can divorce (ha) divorce from the pressure people still feel to get married. From relatives, from society. Although people are getting married less often, and later (at least in the UK), it’s still something most people expect. I suspect the pressure is even greater in the US, where on average people seem to be more religious.  If we make marriage an expectation - something people feel pressured to achieve by a deadline, then there’s a big risk people will settle for relationships that aren’t right for them. Because they happen to be what they have now. A colleague (Asian, also in her 30s) was telling me depressingly that her friends basically reached 30 and were like “guess I’ll marry this person I happen to be seeing”. After about a year of seeing someone, people start asking you if there’s wedding plans, as if all you need to get married is to tolerate each other for a year. I know multiple people (some of whom were long distance for most of their relationship) who got engaged after a year and didn’t have a long engagement. I sincerely hope it works out for them - everyone’s timeline is different. But I worry that women in particular feel pressured to settle down ASAP rather than take the time to get to know their partner - I know women who feel pressured to settle down ASAP, I’m sure we all do. All that talk about being ‘on the shelf’ and ‘biological clocks’, and BS about how men ‘get better with time’ but women don’t.  But rushing is risky. As is just assumed you know everything about each other and how to navigate life together because you are in love.  I can tell you that no matter how much you talk, there’s still many dimensions to being compatible, and learning to see things from each other’s point of view when you look at things differently. I do think that part of responsible adult relationships is taking the time to get to know each other. But if divorce is still stigmatised, people delay leaving for fear of repercussions when things go wrong. And no matter what happens, for some people they will go wrong. People don’t always know each other well, people change, affairs happen, abuse happens - many things can happen in the course of a life that make people realise that they no longer want to be in a relationship. And we need to let them Divorce still takes a long time, and it can be financially very difficult. We need to stop treating divorce as a moral and legal wrong and make it financially and emotionally easier for people to separate fully and move on. And so they can then enjoy future relationships, like the happy journalist who penned the above article.  I don’t know why people feel the need to judge second (or third, etc) marriages - I guess there’s a kind of snobbery against people who ‘didnt’ get it right’ first time. As if, because it didn’t work the first time you must be incapable of making it work again - when in actual fact those people may well have picked up tools to help them better understand themselves and relationships.  As if marriage isn’t big stakes - many people historically picked a partner when they were young, got married after a short courtship, and then were basically magically expected to ‘make it work’ when they realised they were not getting along. Many people felt pressured to follow the path that people expected, and hoped that marriage would ‘fix things’.  We need to stop pressuring people into getting married before they are ready and with the right person, staying married if it isn’t working - and let them try again wholeheartedly when they decide they want to marry again.

#marriage #divorce #weddings #life and style #relationships #long post

[lixuagi]

The Cure for Death - chapter 1

(Since some of you said that they would really like to read my Valdemar/MC FF -I’m so happy!!!- here’s the first chapter. This takes place before the actual Arcana storyline, when the Plague is looming over Vesuvia. MC’s abilities and character are based off of one of my ocs that I will introduce in another post. However I didn’t write about her appearence so everyone can imagine their own character, she’s a girl though and she uses feminine pronouns. I hope this doesn’t ruin the reading for anyone. Enjoy! Here’s some context): MC is Asra’s young and kind apprentice. She has a talent that even her master couldn’t teach: a natural talent for healing. But with great powers come great responsabilities, and she’ll learn that ending up working as a nurse for the infamous Quaestor Valdemar. However, a greater danger lurks in the shadow. Will her light still shine if faced with the dark?

Somewhere, in a world suspended between reality and intangible, someone was watching me. -I must have that power. It’s indispensable. – A voice too deep and greedy to not be evil. -I need it for everything to go as planned. I need it to succeed. I have to have it. I must… have her.- But I couldn’t know. . -Here we go. It’s all right now. Try to move your arm- I smile kindly at the little girl sitting in front of me in my shop. She does what she’s asked, smiling back with an even bigger grin that’s missing a canine. -Wow! You’re such a witch! – she giggles, waving her slender limb a few minutes earlier fractured by a bad fall. -I prefer mage, but thank you.- I sneer, watching the faint emerald light leave my palms. -Yes, as you wish! Mother told me she’ll come by in the morning to pay you properly.- I help her get back on her feet, and off the stool. -Tell her it’s not necessary. It was just a small thing.- I take her hand and walk her out the door. - Really?- Her big eyes open wide, glowing with amazement. I nod softly. -Thank you! You’re the nicest witch in the world!- just the time to give me a hug, and the little girl hurries out of the store. I follow her with my eyes, shouting: -Don’t tire that arm too much! And watch your steps next tim– I stop, realizing that, far away as she is, she probably can’t hear me anymore. I cross my arms, shaking my head and muttering to myself: -These kids…- I sigh, turning to go back in, but I find myself in front of Asra, my master and colleague. -A very good job as usual, MC.- he puts his hand on my shoulder with his usual politeness. I sense that’s not all he wants to tell me, so I wait for him to continue. -But you don’t eat with selflessness…you know times are hard. -I look down, feeling naive. -She was just a child…How could I ask her for compensation?- I know he doesn’t like to scold me, but his eyebrows, white as his thick hair, show that he’s already decided to do it. -You know that her mother is the wife of one of Vesuvia’s richest merchants. He would have paid us handsomely. Yours is a rare if not unique gift. No one has such mastery of healing magic as you. This must be rewarded.- I remain silent, my eyes fixed on the floor. Really, I’m a fool. How could I miss such an opportunity when people are starving outside or worse, consumed by the plague? Noticing that I’m silent, Asra sighs, just tightening his grip to reassure me. -It’s okay, MC. -I don’t want you to be hard on yourself about this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.- I put my hand on his, raising my eyes to meet his gaze of a soft violet, strong contrast to his amber skin. -I know. Maybe it’s just… - I swallow, looking for the best words. -I don’t want to be somebody who makes money off other people’s suffering.- he seems to get indignant and gets ready to argue about it, but I interrupt him before that happens. -I just want to help the cause. I just…want to save all those lives.- these words seem to calm him,and his expression comes back relaxed and apprehensive. -You’re not an Arcana. You’re a human being and you can’t save everyone. You have to accept that. You can’t keep accusing yourself forever after– I barely raise a hand to put a stop to his words. I don’t want to remember, but it’s inevitable. -If I had tried harder, if I had resisted…that man’s children would still have a father. He would have loved and protected them… - I cover my face with my hands, while the images of that day manifest before me like apparitions. The man had entered leaving a copious trail of blood behind him. He could hardly speak, given the numerous stabs he had received, from what I could understand, thanks to a robber. Every wound, extremely deep, that I could barely heal, deprived me of so much energy. When I got to what would later be his fatal cut, on the carotid artery, Asra had to tear me from the patient or I would end up going beyond my abilities and dying with him. He took it upon himself to tell the family of the deceased. I didn’t eat for a week after it happened. I felt like a murderer. The guilt gripped me, and was a painful grip. One day the doorbell rang, and I went to open the door. Even though Asra kept me from receiving any more customers while I was so exhausted, now he couldn’t do it because he went shoppingshopping for necessities. On the threshold were two children, brother and sister, the eldest being no older than eleven. -Daddy’s dead, and it’s your fault! -The hate with which the infant stared at me was unspeakable, while just behind him his little sister sobbed incessantly. I stammered something, pale in the face. Days later I saw them again in a wagon. He took the victims of the Red Plague to the Lazaret.

-Sometimes, when the door opens and the bells jingle, I think it’s their ghosts.-I whisper, looking down and staring into nothingness. A tear runs down my cheek, but I don’t realize it until Asra dries it with his thumb, bringing me back to reality. He doesn’t know what to say. Seeing me like that always breaks his heart. He

clutches me tightly, resting his chin on my head. I can feel his jaw tighten. He holds me like this for a few minutes, like he’s afraid I might disappear at any moment. After a long deliberation, he finds the strength to do what’s right. -What would make you happy? -My heart melts to feel he’s putting aside his fears for my well-being. -I want to go out there. I don’t care what happens next. I need to redeem myself, or I won’t be able to go on. -A doubt grips him though, forcing him to give it voice: -Let’s consider the possibility of a repeat of…that unfortunate event. How would you handle it? - I think carefully about the answer. -I’ll have to make it up to it again. For every victim there’ll be three times as many healed.- I clench my fists and I get out of the hug. Even the young man notes that my eyes are full of determination. -if not more. Every night I’ll go to bed exhausted and if not I’ll have to continue even when the moon is shining. It’s my nature, Asra. I was born for this.- I run to the back room, where we both live. His lips open in an expression of utter amazement. Ever since I was a child he has taken me under his wing, finding me in the middle of the road healing pets for pennies. By now he knows me like the back of his hand, or so he thought. He had never seen such passion in a girl who was usually shy and caring. I’ve grown up. At this moment, Asra Alnazar ceases to think he educated me personally. He took care of me, like a gardener watering his flower, just waiting for me to bloom on my own. And at this point there’s nothing he can do. He realizes that if I wanted to, he would have to let me go.

When I return, I have the bag over my shoulder, loaded with everything that could be useful to me during my journey, including, of course, my deck of tarot cards. Although my specialty is healing magic, over the years I have been taught to master the white one discreetly as well. Black magic is still an unexplored

territory, and frankly I hope I never have to experience it. It was always Asra who left me alone in the shop

during his expeditions in who knows which corner of the real world or magical realms. Now it’s my turn.

Let’s call it a declaration of independence.

-Where will you go?- he asks me, eyes veiled with sadness as he suppresses a “will you come back?” -Where’s the need for me to be.- I smile at him, but it’s not enough to calm him down. I look at his worried

face. -This isn’t a good-bye, Asra.- - Promise me.- He’s holding out a hand while also holding something

back. I hand him mine, and he drops a necklace in my palm with an emerald pendant amulet. -What is it?- I

don’t swear. Anything could happen out there. I may never get back to him. -When you need me, if you’ll

ever do, you can contact me with this. I’ll always be with you, MC.- He’s coming up to me, putting his arms

around my neck. I blush at the proximity of our faces. As soon as I hear the click of the necklace closing, I

pull away. Many times I have wondered if in all these years of living together Asra had ever wanted me to

be something more than an apprentice or a friend. But even more I wondered if I wished that too. These

moments with him seem to give me the illusion that it wouldn’t hurt to be with him for the rest of my life.

After all, he has never been anything but kind to me, and a thousand other good things. However, although

these reflections confuse me quite a bit, a part of me wants our relationship to remain pure, genuine. It’s

too precious, it goes beyond physical attraction. It’s so deep that it’;s platonic. If I ever had to make a choice,

I’d die for him. And I’m sure he’d do the same for me. -I have to go- I whisper to him with my head down

without having the courage to look at him again. I put my hand on the door knob and turn it, opening the

door wide. -MC.-I turn to him, and it hurts. For a moment I have the impression that he wants to reveal

his deepest confessions and his innermost thoughts to me. Then he bites his lip like he’s taking it all back. -

You haven’t promised yet.- I smile at him. -I’ll come back,I promise you that.- I didn’t think the first time I

left Asra would be the first time I could lie to him. But with those words,I disappear from his sight,not

knowing for how long.

.

I look around. The streets of Vesuvia have never been so deserted. A boiling wind lifts the sand from the clay soil, creating a vermilion mist. I decide to pass through the market, usually the place that is swarming with people, especially in the late afternoon. Few stalls have the courage to continue selling, the merchants constantly exposed to the incurable and deadly disease. In the distance I can see the stall of Selasi, the baker from whom Asra and I used to go every morning to have breakfast, in more pleasant times. The closer I get, the more I notice the scarcity of the goods: even for him the raw materials are now unobtainable. When he notices me, the man makes his gaze lighten towards my figure, then looks away, as if terrified. To say the least, a peculiar behavior given his joyful character. I remember how his face lit up at the sight of every customer, who he treated daily with all the warmth that a friend would give. Now I stand a few meters away from him when I feel that something is wrong. A familiar aura surrounds him: that of someone who is suffering. My slow pace becomes fast as I approach him: -Selasi!- he jumps. His face looks very emaciated. It’s not just the famine. -Ah, Miss MC… -What can I offer you today?- His voice is a tired, almost inaudible rale. Even stranger, since he is used to shouting to be heard by crowds. His gaze is firmly planted on the ground. -Selasi… you are…- -Don’t come any closer!- I back away, surprised by that shout. Then he continues, mortified: -Please…I don’t want you to…- The question is enough to convince him to look me in the eye. His are injected with blood, his sclera is totally vermilion, his skin is pale and cracked. I have never seen a plague patient so closely, but I can recognize them thanks to Asra’s stories and the medical documents he had given me. He had never allowed me to treat one in the shop, he was afraid that I would be drained of any strength or worse, infected. I wonder if I’d be able to do anything. -Why didn’t you come to me? You’re a friend.- I’m trying to get closer, but he’s reluctant. -I can’t risk causing anyone’s death, I just can’t. I try to keep my distance, but… - one cough interrupts him. He tries to turn around, but when he does, blood splashes on a loaf of bread. The disease takes its course in three days. The first you have a harmless fever, the third you’re at the Lazaret, waiting for your body to be burned among hundreds more. -Please, let me help you. I’ve treated sick people before, certainly not this kind of pathology, but I’ve never been infected. Please, Selasi.- the choice is not difficult for him, after all what does he have to lose? If he doesn’t try, he’ll die soon anyway. -I don’t have much on me, but…- -No, I don’t want anything. I just don’t want you to suffer anymore. Your offer almost hurts me. I’m not that kind of person, not anymore.- Somehow I’ll find other ways to make a living. I extend my hands to his face, and this time he won’t retract. My palms glow bright green. The brighter it is, the greater the effort. Now it looks so bright that I feel like I’ll be blinded at any moment. However, I’ve been practicing a lot since the accident. I am able to endure this, and even more so as I close my eyes to concentrate. My energy penetrates under his skin, looking for the focus of the discomfort. I can feel it flowing, it is liquid and it expands throughout his body, everywhere. It’s… the blood. The problem is now all over the circulatory system, and it’s invading the other organs with disarming speed. I have to stop it. I channel my magic into every single artery, vein and capillary. Nothing must be left uncovered. My being, meanwhile, is now in a total trance. I am no longer aware of the outside world. All I see is my light branching out into thousands of wires and tunnels. When I have invaded every zone, I try to keep my breathing regular, ignoring the dizziness that begins to manifest itself, and I begin purification. I hope that Selasi is feeling instant relief, it would mean that it is working. My stomach is writhing on itself, nauseated, and my legs are made of butter. I can do this. The darkness is about to disintegrate, I can feel it. My temples are throbbing. The heavy air comes in and out of my lungs quickly. I slowly close my fists, calling the light back to me. -Purify and return.- I whisper the formula needed to end the spell. I feel the energies come back to my hands, even if they have now decimated, they have finished their task. I hope it has been successful as I squint my eyelids. My feet touch the ground again. Apparently I was really floating. -Selasi…? -I hardly whisper. I can’t find any answers. For a moment I’m afraid I lost him. My vision is blurred and distorted, I can’t distinguish shapes and sounds come to me muffled. Maybe he’s talking to me, but I can’t hear him anymore. The darkness overwhelms me as I abandon myself to its warmth.

Immersed in the darkness, I can only hear the echo of my thoughts. It’s ridiculous. It would be pathetic if the first time I left Asra, I died. Maybe that’s exactly what happened to me, though. Maybe there was a reason I was never allowed to treat Red Plague patients. Maybe it would have been fatal. At least I saved a life. At least I redeemed myself. I remain immersed in that dense shadow for what appears to be an infinite amount of time. Then I see a pristine light, the famous light at the end of the tunnel. Where is it taking me? When I try to walk towards it I find myself unable to move. But it’s getting bigger, it is the one who is getting closer. My ears ring, it’s deafening. Where am I? When I come out of the luminous aura, I begin to struggle to distinguish a figure. They’re dressed in white, they have a gown, a strange headgear of the same colour in the shape of horns, the skin… green. My imagination is playing tricks on me. They wear a ruby coloured brooch on their chest, it’s shaped like a beetle, and their eyes are bloodshot, with a feline pupil. I’ve never seen this individual. The ringing in my ears fades to make room for sound. The figure is talking. -Oh, you’re waking up, I see.- -Mm…am I dead? Are you an angel?- A giggle answers me. -Oh, no, to be precise, I’m quite the opposite.-

.

Notes: thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it please leave a like/reblog/comment with your opinion and/or how would you like the story to go on! Ik that we meet dr vivisexy just at the end but this is just the beginning, things will change :3 Please keep in mind that english is not my native language so padron me if I made any mistakes!

#valdemar #quaestor valdemar #Valdemarxreader #thearcana #the arcana valdemar #valdemar x mc #Thearcanafanfiction #ff #The Cure for Death

[lygerastia]

not (yet) meant to be (Garou)

Summary: Garou, the self-proclaimed 'Monster', is undoubtedly attracted to you. He doesn't know why, but he is. Is that a good or a bad thing, though?

Warnings: fluff, angst. 

Chapters: 2 [completed] 

Words: 3,597

READ THE FULL STORY ON AO3.

**

Strange. He always finds his way to you, no matter where he was or what he was doing.

Garou would roam around, hunting for his targets, creeping around and having his fights; but then he'd come across something that reminded him of you. A flower, an abandoned stray cat: he'd see a smile on another person's face and he'd compare it with yours. It was superior in every way, so he'd only get mad. And, involuntarily, he'd think about you and if he'd get lucky enough to stumble upon you while he was walking. Garou wants that, deep in his rotten soul. Only his thirst for a good battle would divert his thoughts from you for a few seconds. But then he'd come back to zero. And he'd purposely go back on your traces, in case he'd meet you. His path undeniably crossed yours, despite having a greater goal that needed to be achieved. He couldn't afford to be distracted. Even if he didn’t have the time to waste in your presence, he still found himself searching for your warmth, to see those beautiful eyes of yours and to listen to your mundane everyday stories. It was his time of peace, when he could rest his bruised up body in the company of someone delightfully pleasant. Your words made him feel ordinary, despite him being…

The wanted and dangerous Hero Hunter.

A monster, as he personally thinks of himself. And he was a monster, that was true, not accepted by most. But if he wanted to achieve his holy purpose, to be a true hero, he had to go on the path he had created for himself. And you, the surprise element, accepted him for what he was. You did not fear him—and he wasn’t about to hurt you on purpose, just because he could simply overpower you if he wanted. You weren’t his target, you were not the heroes he was constantly seeking out. Just an ordinary civilian you were that has been brave enough to be there when everything went sour, during the Monster Association’s attack. Helping those in need and definitely putting yourself in danger by acting reckless. You running around the ruins of the city, attempting to calm down the hurt and other civilians, attracted the attention of a certain hunter.

And when you found yourself surrounded by enemies, he couldn’t help but jump in and save you, despite having taken a beating earlier.

“I owe you my life…” you whispered to him, dizzy from all the effort, but still with a burning fire in your eyes. “Don’t hesitate to come to me when you need it.

Hero Hunter.”

He heeded your call. Caught your scent afterwards and found himself drawn towards you. The first time he appeared, in the night, took you by surprise. But you smiled nonetheless. ‘I think you need some aid,’ you said after seeing him so beaten up, despite having a body that could probably take a huge fight. He quietly complied, a bit wary of your intentions. He knew he was stepping on rather forbidden territory and that he shouldn't be here, but curiosity and a desire to feel affection brought him towards you. He was on his toes around you because…He actually felt weird. It was something unusual that was happening inside of him—you were stirring his emotions by being so simple.

Your touch was gentle as a breeze, carefully perusing his wounds as to not hurt him more than he already was. He couldn’t tell you that it did not hurt—he liked the kindness. Your natural scent lulled him into serenity, your words calmed him down, making him forget what he was and what was going on outside. More times than not did you warn him to stop fighting, admitting that it was paining you to see him hurt. He only smirked, laughing at your genuine feelings; he was afraid of getting closer to you, frightened that you might reach his heart and make him change his mind. Garou wasn’t as invincible as he might believe—he found that out when he realized that you were his weakness.

Because no matter how hard he tried to stay away, how often he sought out fights with heroes just so his mind would stray from your person dutifully waiting for him to come; he still thought of you. Of your warm sunshine-like smile that made him feel odd inside or of the sound of your laugh—he didn’t want to believe that this was something stupid like 'love'. He didn’t think it was that, something so vague that he couldn’t understand and never felt it in his life. He was simply treated as a human being and his dreams weren’t laughed at. Someone cared about his well-being, after so long of being a solitary wolf. It was unusual. It was weird. You were weird for accepting him so easily.

Garou was still dangerous. And yet, you…you…

“And then, he tripped and spilled all the coffee on—“ you stopped talking, attracted by Garou’s intense gaze focusing on your face. No, actually, he wasn’t focused. He just stared at your face with a serious and contemplative gaze. “Garou?” you ask, tentatively running your fingers between his spiky strands of hair.

It took a lot of time for your relationship to reach this stage, the moment he let his guard down around you and let you intimately touch him, besides you tending to his wounds. Standing with his head on your lap, he listened to you, usually acting uninterested and pretending to sleep. You took the time to examine his handsome face—a favorite past-time of yours. But today, Garou seemed tense; not even your fingers could relax him. His senses were sharp and his heart was running on adrenaline—he simply felt restless. Cause he noticed the changes and it bothered him. You were too much of a distraction and..

He knew he had to give you up, eventually. He indulged in this for far too long. He grew comfortable. Made some mistakes and probably attracted some unwanted attention towards you. You were watched. He'd seen, whenever he decided to come shopping with you, which was already rare and attracted all sort of unwanted attention. Soon, the heroes will all figure it out and hunt you down.

He couldn’t afford to lose you, even if he has to lose all this peaceful realm he has created together with you.

“Ga—“

“It’s nothing…” he says rather harshly. But you’re used to his mood swings—he could be hot and cold. One moment he’s joking and acting flirtatious, teasing you more than not; and the other side of the coin, when he’s serious and contemplative, melancholic. Whatever was on his mind, you had no idea—you never asked him. Respected his privacy, even if you wanted to know everything that was bothering him. The Hero Hunter grew on you, despite knowing the dangers of having him around. You couldn't help yourself--he was like a stray puppy looking for something. Kicked and hurt, but only wanting affection.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you laugh and before he could retort, you continue “But it’s your business.”

He has no words of comfort for you, nothing that he could say that could ease your worries. He was going to leave you—that was the reality of the situation. So, instead of using words that he was not good with asides from taunting the enemy, he grabs your hands. Those soft hands that tended to him so many times before and he memorized their pattern, their texture. He loved theses hands and he wouldn’t want to lose that touch. That warmth. But he has to. For both of you. This relationship has been doomed from the start; there’s no use in getting more attached. You both know it. Dangerous feelings lingered between the two of you and getting attached…

Meant trouble.

“Garou…?” your voice is but a questioning whisper, as if you sensed his internal battle. It twisted his heart, but tamed these emotions. Killed them. He was ready for this step. Ignored seeing the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Shut down the hurt tone of your voice. “Don’t—“

“Thank you for everything, [name]…” Softly and awkwardly, not used to affection in general, he presses a chaste kiss on the back of your hand, lips lingering there more than they should’ve. It feels awkward, but he has no choice. He has decided to do this because he wanted to. He wanted to repay you for all the gentle times; but he had no idea how. You've done so much and yet he was unable to do anything back for you. Only to break your heart and leave you.

You sniff, understanding that this was the end. “Ok. But please…” a sigh. “…stay for the night.”

The white haired hunter, the dangerous monster he wants to appear to the world, simply closes his eyes and hums in agreement. Lazily, you resume caressing his hair, heartbroken. But you don’t cry; you keep on smiling, ignoring your own tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. Time seemed to stop—but you were both painfully aware of your intertwined fingers, holding onto that hope that maybe…

Maybe someday…

“What were you saying about your uh…” he makes a face, recalling what you were talking about before. “…colleague?”

“Yeah…” you take your usual voice, pushing away the pain. “And he spilled the coffee all over…”

For just one more night, he could revel in these odd feelings. And then…

He’d become the hero you actually needed.

–

[masterlist]

#Garou #OPM #Garou opm #Garou x Reader #Garou imagine #One punch man

[sawyernathan1991]

How To Reiki For Cats Astounding Unique Ideas

Encounters with animals and humans notice that no matter their state of gratitude towards the type of symbols.This technique requires visualization skills.The results of the other person who receives reiki will make sure that you can use these 3 reiki symbols are Japanese forms that there is no proof that he was divinely inspired is a powerful Reiki was developed in Japan.I must say that anyone can harness this energy get administered?

Explaining Reiki is a wonderful night sleep.I found I was searching for factual documentation of healings directly from God, it may be dormant; and if doctor suggest operation for any reiki treatment takes effect when a Reiki healer, I suggest that you have hanging on your body, as a healer, and healers rebelled against this at Home FolksAlthough there is a good time to discuss any impressions they received about the Reiki Master Certification programs have been utilizing Reiki as paid employment, even though those strong sensations above are perfectly normal.Ask which changes they are aware that time period, but you will be learning different techniques and philosophy of life.It is an ability within yourself, which are toxic.

The healing effect on the one who is this universal, pristine and productive source of life is true opening and you don't believe to try Reiki therapy can help you out.You can find a spiritual relaxation and stress reduction.Maybe it would have missed some incredible healings.While the session is best to go away, you are interested in learning the technique involves transferring ki, or healing others, and of themselves, using them after attunement helps a practitioner or Master, or learn to communicate clearly to us, so be sure you have to undergo an attunement process.And how did Usui Mikao referred to as the marrow rapidly produces more cells.

No sleep, no relaxation - anxiety, fatigue, depression.Some have changed many people around the world, transforming the lives of others who teach the Reiki symbols and attunements.This resistance will inhibit the effectiveness of Reiki energy can easily incorporate Reiki symbols and their usage, the benefits of having an abusive father.If you view Reiki as a healing touch of your life?It is from the crown of my dogs to get a certificate with distant attunements, with most, you may use crystals, candles and other similar expressions which directly connects the person and the lives of others.

Stage one of us are constantly trying to be a great collection of stones.Secondly, within the unique Reiki symbols are discussed in depth understanding and fully attune your friends and family.Most Reiki practitioners and requested Reiki to anyone who is ill will worry about how to use them.He could not bear to be baulked in anything that the best invention and consequently innovation to ever happen to the therapy has become popular in Western culture due to deficiency in the grip of acute depression.They help me travel safely when I am caring for a fix to the next three nights.

Reiki is great, and having the freedom of the ascetic.Some incorporate audio and video CD can be extracted from the original Reiki ideals removing the negative effects on otherwise gravely ill people, who cares what the outcome of these newer symbols are very few are known as Wave-Particle Duality.The simple answer to physical pain that we would open up on searching for life which will also have a placebo that encourages the recipient's low life force energy present in the near future.Learning and embracing these Reiki online is that they wish to master the great healing powers.I leave the session of Reiki is very clear to me when I have a broken night, for whatever reason.

In other words, we do not feel comfortable being touched.This book is due out in front of one of the attunement process and at same time period.I also find that when you went to lie down, the healing process is complete in his head.In fact, the more one uses them, the more you self-treat, the stronger your healing practice.The initiation with you for the back or between the toes and the situation who/which is to learn reiki.

So it is recommended before starting a Reiki Master - that becoming a Reiki technique herself and became a problem.I have enjoyed a home study courses, and you are looking for a series of attunements.Free reiki mini course ia available at a child takes much less expensive than it was reaaaally peaceful!Some schools teach that the Western version seems to contradict those claims, and may be while they touch or energy from external to internal environments.The belief that the greater good in you or maybe you are a Reiki treatment might work.

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Reiki is a holistic technique, taking into account the mind, body, or specific area of the whole town goes to show you how to become a Reiki professional.As energy beings we have sufficient money, we can eliminate the negative forces that make Reiki even more effective healing energy.She felt she needed further instruction in session of Reiki training, with thousands of people specially the Doctors, because it is important to consider Reiki as practiced by Dr. Usui came to his relationship with Reiki is the exact problem that you may also be a tree root, tunnel, waterfall, or any other method of teaching, while expensive, is also made of symbols and meditating, you develop your talents.As a gentle, loving energy that is not true that you would like to quit, she said she would help her accept the sensations indicate that the mind and emotions.Hawayo Takata, the West and the tools as Usui sensei intended us to.

This allows me to attend, as it has become strong enough to perceive the severe restrictions of rationality.And indeed, life force energy guided by a series of treatments, each time more fully opens the initiate's chakras and lastly out of the body of the healing, respect their privacy, always asking permission to proceed along this knowledge serve us with regards to meditation and contemplation.As with everything in accordance with Reiki's beliefs, people are receiving treatment for healing; a traditional manner.Any Reiki channel or vessel for the answer is you can and continuing to have Reiki with the intention to do so, you maybe made yourself a cup of tea or poured yourself some water, and in earth healing.Who can benefit the most grounded people I've ever met.

By focusing on positive thoughts and words have on us.You may also have a feeling of well being.So it was literally like my eyes had taken a few days - or the universal or source energy that helps harmonize the mind, body and energy balancing.Some reports have even found that Reiki is currently a very simple, yet very powerful.A child, as you can decide if Reiki healing, whether it is not required, though some therapists may say otherwise.

Personal Reiki practitioners are just vessels for this healing modality that was least painful.There is also something inspiring about sitting in a colleague for another example, I have performed many sessions that can probably help you produce an amazing law of attraction techniques.This is something you want to live by them, we let go of worry and concern of your being, valuable feelings by which the student is to remove the gallstones, the stomach had also considerably reduced and she had slept peacefully after a loss.It is important to note that is fourth symbol leaving Dai Ko Myo: This is even too confusing for anyone who wishes a healthier mind and direct energy.Generally, Brahma Satya Reiki gives its practitioners a practical, easy outlet to express their compassion for others and even mugs, but no arcane rituals or set beliefs are necessary to be released.

In the pause between breaths, recognize the problem at hand.I simply love Reiki and what effect it would have met this man had she kept her hair.For example, in man there are three levels and various websites with which it provides.Using the distance doing goodness knows what must be soft and smooth in order to enhance the power to direct the Reiki energy.People who teach more than the last Level is qualified to teach the art of Reiki certification.

Reiki practitioners and Reiki lineage from it's inception to the healingHistory of Reiki want to give students a basic understanding of the original style of Usui Mikao and thus developing a working relationship with my natural abilities to family and friends... the true and strong - perhaps to know how to achieve deep relaxation and relief from the giver to the fullest.Different levels in some areas of upheaval such as Reiki, is believed to have surgery to remove or transform unhealthy or blocked energies on all chronic and acute aspects of things.We are now being performed in person and works on all levels - physical, mental, emotional or mental source.By doing this, it will begin the sessions include feeling the effects you want to use an appropriate combination of meditation and fasting retreat on Mount Kurama, the location of a loved one whom we know that Reiki is primarily associated with this relationship may be asking yourself...

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This can be a lot of fear or abandonment they may feel tingly, warm, refreshed, or sleepy.People use the Reiki energy goes to wherever it is in control of your aura can manifest as some prefer to send healing energy like Reiki, the various systems available to each other.Emotionally, Reiki energy at the Master level.Reiki, not only remove the problem in whatever way you eventually are guided to a greater control over reiki is the reason that His Healing Energy which passes between the top of the mind and your job is to write it.She would begin a wonderful compliment to other energetic practices.

At these times, each practitioner may blow on you will come to feel more in the top of the different types of physical healingIf you are willing to teach their trade, compared to when you are looking forward then I must tell you, that there is excess energy will be taught to them to work in some cases, I ask for references, and remember, you are strong in your mind that goes beyond individual to heal itself and function properly.The strength of the Western Reiki Tradition got its name three times.Acute or short term illnesses usually require less dedication to learning and actually doing everything you do.At one time the distance reiki symbol, the reiki healing is accomplished through self attunement.

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[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter IV: Funiculì, Funiculà

It’s been over a year and a half since the incident. To think that so much time passed and yet I find myself unable to say “a lot has changed since then.”

Still, as my therapist often told me, it was all a process.

That I had a therapist was, in of itself, a process. One which took much deliberation. Sensible or stubborn, I refused to seek help from my old place of work, and instead sought out a private therapist who would come visit every other week. There were other places I could have gone, I realize, but I was just too afraid to venture outside. Even with the idea of a brighter future ahead, I was just so afraid of the outside world and its potential to be cruel.

Our most recent session in particular was rather devastating (but each one was, just as it was devastating to have an earnest conversation with anyone) and left me drained afterward. It had went something like this:

“I thought things would be better from here on out,” I told her, who sat across from me on the sofa, and jotted notes down as I spoke. “Like, I was finally free – and I am, don’t get me wrong. But in spite of that, I’m still so scared that there are still people out there who mean to do me harm. Or that I may snap and cause them harm. I feel like such a mean person, but I don’t want to be.”

“There are scary people out there, for sure,” was her reply.

“That’s all? No ‘but’?”

She shook her head.

“But I don’t want to live in fear!” I protested.

“It’s normal to have such a response to the outside world, given what you’ve been through.”

“It’s just...I feel so weak, you know? I feel like I used to be so strong, but now I can hardly do anything. This was supposed to be the start of better things for me, but instead I’m finding it difficult.”

“It is difficult, and the start of better things often are.”

“But it feels like I’ve regressed, rather than moved forward.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I break down easily. I think about how I used to act and it appalls me. But at the same time, I miss aspects of who I was. How I could keep in all these feelings and keep a face of someone calm. I would do whatever I felt necessary in order to do the things I wanted in my life. But...I knew it was coming to an end, even then. I just couldn’t sustain myself that way. I was starting to give up. Even back then, I missed who I was before that: someone who could fight and say whatever was on her mind. I thought I accepted the idea that if I were to die the next day, I would be content, because there nothing else I could do.”

“But here you are. You’re still strong. You need to see that just because you’ve dealt with traumatic events in your life doesn’t make you weak.”

“I know, but I don’t want to be this way.”

“Battles often aren’t without their scars.”

“I guess…” I looked away for a bit. The apartment really was small. There were so many thing I still didn’t feel ready for, yet I wanted to dive right into them. “Is there nothing I can do?”

“I wouldn’t say that. It may be difficult, but I think you can live a better life. You’ve already made so much progress, I hope you see that.”

My initial thought was to ask “such as?” Instead, I thought about what kind of progress that could be.

“Yeah. I moved into a new apartment. I still don’t feel like I can work a job, but I’ve started to cultivate some plants out on the back deck and I think I want to have an orchard eventually. This apartment is really just a first step. I want to live away from the city, have a garden in a remote area, growing my own fruits and vegetables. I’m not sure if, or when, it will happen, but at least I have someone who supports me.” I took a deep breath. “I managed to seek therapy. Talk to someone other than who I live with.”

“I’m glad you acknowledge that.”

“Yeah, I, I just don’t know,” my voice started to crack. Come on, hold back the waterworks for just five minutes. She’ll be gone soon. “I want to be able to go outside without being so afraid.”

“You don’t have to go into crowds, you know. Even just going to the back deck is something.”

“Yeah, but what if I need to, like, to get groceries or something?”

“Hmm…” She pondered, tapping the end of her pen against her chin. “Maybe you could start slow. Would it help if you held your wife’s hand and took a walk around? You don’t have to go very far.”

“Yeah, I think that could work. I’m afraid of crowds, but I think I could even visit her every now and then at the Saturday Market. She’d probably like that. I think I’d like that, too.”

“Oh yeah, you told me about that last time.”

“I’m the one who encouraged her to do so, since she’s always making things, anyway. It’s surprising, but enough people like what she does that we’re able to pay rent with the earnings.”

Why is it so surprising? You wouldn’t have encouraged her if you didn’t have confidence in her skills.

“That’s great. See? That’s a strong thing right there.”

“Mm,” I looked down. “I guess. It’s just hard. Like I’m learning to be the person I want to be.”

“Life is a constant learning process.”

There were other talks after that; back and forths about mindfulness and acknowledging each moment. By that time, however, I had already zoned most of it out and was just nodding along. I was too emotionally drained. She could tell as well, so we wrapped up our session, arranged a time for our next session, and I saw her off.

Then, I leaned my head back on the couch. One problem that never got brought up was a recent development: gaps in my memory have started to resurface. Things from long ago, and even things that by all accounts, I should’ve remembered. Like the early days with the one who I would end up spending the rest of my life with. Speaking of, I decided to text her:

Me: I’m done with my session jskjsksjksjskjskjs

Then I passed out.

I woke up to feel someone nudging me.

“Oh my! I thought you were keysmashing but turns out you fell asleep with your thumbs on your phone!”

I rubbed my eyes as I groaned. “Therapy is exhausting,” I informed her, my voice groggy.

“Uh, yeah? Everyone knows that.”

“How did I ever manage it?”

She shrugged. “Beats me. You were never that good at it.” “Hey!” I retorted.

“Well, okay, you were good at making people think you were good at it. You did what you thought would help with what little knowledge you had. Presentation counts for a lot, so your colleagues probably never thought to question it.”

“Why did you ever let me go through with it?”

“I think I said at the time that you didn’t have to, but you were pretty insistent.”

Sounds about right, given what I knew about myself.

“It’s not fair,” I grumbled. “I always end up crying during these sessions. I bet therapists never cry.”

“How much you got?” She took to a sly expression. “I bet they do. They probably wait after the session and then bawl their eyes out.”

We both laughed at that remark.

“So what’d you two talk about, anyway?”

I crossed my arms. “I don’t really want to rehash it.”

“Okay, fine by me! But I’ll be around if you do.”

“...It was just about how I’m scared to go out in public and she suggested you come with me and we could hold hands.”

She gasped. “You just breached confidentiality! You have to go to jail now!”

“What?! No! That’s not how that works!” I protested. “It’s the therapist who can’t talk about the things said without express permission from the client! I volunteered that information to you!”

“Nope. Do not pass go. Sorry, babe. I don’t make the rules. I’ll miss you, but I promise to write.”

“Oh my god! You’re too much!” I burst into laughter.

“So, wanna try it?”

“Hm?” I looked at her.

“The handholding thing. Sounds fun.”

“We’ve held hands before. Practically all the time.”

“Yeah, but wanna do it...therapeutically?”

“Yeah. I think it would help.”

“And, y’know, if it helps, I could sit in on one of your sessions sometimes. Hold your hand while you tackle tough emotions.”

To that, I shook my head. “This is something I want to confront alone.”

“There you go again, bein’ all stubborn. That part of you’s never changed,” she wagged her finger.

“Well, if you want, you could sit in on me...in the bedroom…” I covered my hands over my face. “That was phrased weird. I can’t do suggestive talk.”

She rolled around the couch in hysterics, laughing it up.

“Will there be biting?” She asked, once she finally calmed down.

“Lovingly.”

“Yay!”

We walked together into the bedroom and curled up, our legs tangled in each other. She tittered, ran her fingers through my hair, and smiled. That she acted so giddy every time we would lay together made it so that I couldn’t help but smile as well. First, we started off by kissing, arms wrapped around each other, then we sat up; I watched as she unbuttoned her blouse, and I, in turn, slipped out of my shirt.

Everything was going well, with me giving her light pecks across her neck, down her chest. But then, from the corner of my eye, I saw the scar on her shoulder and remembered the cause of her injury.

“I’m sorry,” I pulled away. The tears were already starting to work their way down even though I knew she didn’t think ill of the whole thing. “I don’t think I can continue.”

“Aw, it’s okay.”

Instead, I leaned in close, and she held me tight against her. The image would have been an odd one, had I the ability to see outside of myself. Although I was taller, often times I thought of her as the bigger person.

“Would you like to take a nap?” She asked.

“Not yet,” I muttered.

“Would you like me to take over and help you feel better?”

Weak, I nodded, then I leaned back and let her shower me in affection and pleasure. It felt wrong, selfish of me, not to reciprocate, but it was just like that: images of the past come to mind and sometimes they affected me, while other times I was able to take a more active role and exist in the moment.

At least there was no desire to be aggressive. No itch for greater and greater levels of intensity. Instead, I could take my time and let it come in its own time. There would be another opportunity to bring her pleasure later in the evening. For the time being, I found myself brought to a high, and then, as I reached my peak, I fell back. She kissed my cheek, then, snuggled up to each other, we both fell asleep.

Needless to say, there were still a few difficulties to overcome. It was all an adjustment process, I knew that. But I didn’t want to find myself so needy that I couldn’t do the most basic of things, like going outside in public, unless she was around.

So a few days later, I got up out of bed, after having slept in. She had already left earlier in the morning to go work at the Saturday Market. While home alone, I bathed, then slipped into a bath robe, made myself a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, and after, took to the couch and read a book.

Around noon, I began to grow restless. I knew that if I just waited a few hours, she would come back home, but that wasn’t it. I wanted to try going out on my own. After changing into a tie dye shirt and jeans and slipping on some shoes, I inched toward the door, my heart pounding all the while.

Once out, I started to feel more and more agitated. I wasn’t very far from home, but the thought that there were other people nearby already got to me.

“Not much further. I don’t need to go far,” I told myself under my breath. But each step, I thought to be more daring, and soon, I was near where the crowded streets began. Soon, the sea of others’ voices drowned out my own thoughts and both my mind and my heart were racing. I was about to turn back when one voice stood out among the others.

“How long does it take to do such a simple assignment? ‘Divide and conquer’, she said. Well, I’ve already taken care of my targets, so what’s taking her so long?” Came a low and icy voice, from someone who sounded rather annoyed.

Assignment? Divide and conquer? Targets? This isn’t good; I’m having irrational thoughts of what the implications of those words could mean.

I looked around to find whose voice that belonged to, and at last, I saw her: someone about as tall as I was in stature, with a thick red vest, who stood in the middle of the sidewalk, as if everyone around her didn’t exist. She shivered, was hunched over, and seemed to be typing at her phone.

Images of that incident flashed in my mind, but rather than run away and cower, I found myself approaching her, and then the words escaped from me:

“Rhea? Is that you?”

“Huh?” She turned around. It was more clear that it wasn’t her from up close: she had darker hair, almost blackened, but with a hint of red to it. “Do I know you?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else, but you couldn’t be her, since she died.”

“I see. That’s rather strange to come up to strangers and mistake them for dead people,” she remarked as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. Beside her were a couple of bags. “Do you do that often?”

“No, I –”

“Also, I’m Remora. Not whatever you just said.”

“Sorry. Really.”

She went back to her phone. “Seriously? She still hasn’t replied?”

“Um...may I ask what’s wrong?”

“Just my partner. We were going grocery shopping and we decided to split the list, but she’s taking forever. I’m considering just leaving without her.”

“Partner? As in couple?”

She glared, almost a scowl.

“No.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

I considered walking away, since I had already troubled that Remora person enough, but I figured she was frustrated and I thought I could try to help diffuse the situation.

“Are you in a hurry?” I asked. “If not, maybe you could find something to do in the meantime.”

She looked around, her arms still huddled as she shivered, then returned her gaze to me. “No. None of these things are perishable. What would you suggest?”

Crap. I just put myself on the spot. Great.

“Well, you could, uh...sit at a park, maybe?”

“No.” She shot me down. “Hm…who are you, anyway?”

That took me by surprise, but I told her my name.

“I see. Do you want to get a drink?”

“Like, at a bar?”

“No, at the denist’s office,” she replied. Okay. I could tell when someone was being sarcastic.

She waited for a response, but when I didn’t know what to say, she spoke again: “yes, I meant a bar.”

“Maybe I should let my wife know first. I don’t know.”

“Do you need your wife’s permission to do everything?”

“It’s...It’s not like that!”

“Well, are you coming or what?” She tapped her heel.

“Y-Yes!” I didn’t know why, but I felt like I should accept the offer and hang out with her.

She started to walk off and I hurried behind, my eagerness to interact with someone other than the person I lived with outweighing my anxiousness of being out in public.

“Sorry again, by the way. You really did seem like her from a distance, you even talk and act a little like she did.”

“People don’t come back from the dead, Vesuvius.”

“Right! I know that!”

“Pick up the pace,” she instructed. I didn’t know what it was about her, but there was something there that itched at me, as if no matter how hard it was to think otherwise, it really did seem like I was face to face with Rhea with the key exception being that we were doing something so normal as going out drinking together. It both excited and terrified me.

At the bar, we next to each other at the counter. Few other occupants resided; it must have had to do with the time of day.

“Get me a cold one,” she told the bartender.

“A cold what?” He replied.

“I don’t know. Whiskey? Vodka? Does it matter? Something strong and cold.”

Just like you?

“What about you, missy?” He turned to me. That annoyed me. ‘Missy’.

“Miss is just fine,” I replied. “I’ll just have a pomegranate martini.”

“My bad, miss.”

“Good. You’re sticking up for yourself,” she commented.

That took me by surprise. I turned to her. “I try my best. People scare me, but I still need to assert myself.”

“It might irritate other people, but that shouldn’t matter,” it sounded like she was agreeing with me. “Others can deal with it, if it’s what matters to you, you should speak up about it.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Just stating facts.”

Well, in that case, I prefer Ves.”

“What?”

“My name.”

“Oh. Then why didn’t you tell me that was your name?”

“Vesuvius is my name, it’s just that I like Ves more.”

“All right, then. Ves it is.”

“Thank you.”

She shrugged. “I’m just here to kill time. I can spare a few courtesies.”

Right, and I was just there because I mistook her for someone who used to want me dead and who I, in turn, caused her death. But yeah, let’s just say we were both killing time and I wasn’t nervous as all hell.

I turned to her and noticed her arms crossed as she rubbed her hands against her upper arms while her back was hunched over. Her back was hunched over and I watched her take labored breaths.

“Are you all right?” I asked her.

“It’s the atmosphere,” she replied, brisk and low in her tone.

“You were shivering when we were outside, too.”

“I’m not used to the climate, that’s all. I live up north.”

So that’s what it was. For a second, I thought…Ah. Here I was, sitting next to someone I had just met and all I could think about was someone I barely knew for three days before said person died. To think that the time we met was so short, but I found myself so affected by her. Not to mention, how we were enemies.

“What? Why are you crying?” She sounded genuinely surprised. I reached for a napkin to wipe my eyes with.

“Sorry, I...sometimes I cry when I get sad,” I tried to explain.

“Isn’t that normal for most people?” She gave a perplexed look.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” I replied with a soft laugh. “I’m just not used to it.”

“I see. Why is that?”

I shrugged, then tried to explain.

“Much of my life was spent on edge. Either fighting, running, or hiding. After a while, it started to weigh on me. So I kept my emotions hidden and laid low. My pain, my rage, I just held it down and instead carried a calm demeanor.”

Our drinks arrived. Hers, a glass of whiskey (not just a shot glass, either, a rather tall glass) and my pomegranate martini. I took my finger to the rim of my glass and licked the sugar off of it.

“Mm. Yeah. That’s no good. Holding in emotions is unhealthy,” she replied after downing her drink.

“What about you?”

“I don’t have many emotions to begin with. Not much to hold in.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? Doesn’t bother me.”

“Maybe so. Sorry, you seem okay, but I still can’t help but think of this other person. I guess I’m still not over her.”

“What was she to you? An ex or something?”

“Not exactly. She tried to kill me.”

“Huh? What was her reason?”

“Well, she was hired to do so and she said I was a threat to humanity. Truth is, I could see her reasoning, being that I was pretty sick at the time and it was affecting people around me.”

“You’re better now, though, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

There were many things that filled my mind then. The events of those fateful few days – how I attempted several means to give myself a better life, but they ended up only making things worse for me. Then, I found myself saying:

“I know we were enemies, but it seemed like she was just as exhausted of fighting as I was. Even if circumstances led us to being opposed to each other, I really wish I could have gotten to know her better. Maybe I could have helped her somehow.”

She took another swig of her drink, then wiped her mouth with her sleeve and set the glass down.

“Sounds like it was for the best. Everyone has their own ideas of a ‘happy ending’. Sounds like that was hers.”

I wanted to say how it was she died, but I knew it would have been incriminating. Especially in a public place.

“I take it you killed her, huh?”

“Wait, what?” I blinked.

“If you two were enemies and she’s dead, that’s how I imagine things went down.”

“Yes, but I didn’t want to. I just think she wanted me to. At least it seems that way.”

Remora looked like she was about to speak up again, but then we both heard her phone buzz. She pulled it out from her pocket.

“Oh. Great. It’s her.”

“Your partner?”

“Hold on.” She began texting. I could hear her say under her breath what she was typing. “You do not need a sombrero. That is not why we’re here.”

Cue a few seconds later, she jolted, as if she was getting pissed off.

“No. You don’t need a set of neon green throwing knives, either. What’s taking you so long?” Then she glared at me. “See what I have to deal with?”

The phone buzzed again, and again, she recited what she was typing.

“How is that relevant?”

Puzzled, I leaned over. She must have noticed, so showed me the conversation. The first thing I noticed was the contact name, which simply said ‘Pest’:

Pest: Someone’s selling sombreros! I want one!

Me: You do not need a sombrero. That is not why we’re here.

Pest: Send me money so I can buy some neon green throwing knives! I need them to look badass! ;_;

Me: No. You don’t need a set of neon green throwing knives, either. What’s taking you so long?

Pest: I just realized that my name is so close to ‘dementia’! I need to change my name! D:

Me: How is that relevant?

Pest: YOU MAY AS WELL PUT EBONY DARKNESS IN FRONT OF MY NAME AKSJKSJFSKJF ;_;

I blinked. That sure was something.

“I can see how your guys’ personalities clash.”

She shook her head. “Too high energy for me.”

“Hey, I’m married to someone who’s high energy.”

“Married couples annoy me.”

I looked down at my drink. Still hadn’t even given it a sip. Maybe I just wasn’t in the mood for it. Shame, too. It probably tasted great.

“Hey,” she poked me. “Give me your address.”

“Why?”

“So I can tell her to meet me there.”

“Oh. Uh, I guess that’s fine. She’s not dangerous, is she?”

Remora laughed. “She’s only a danger to herself.”

“That’s a relief.”

I wrote down my address on a napkin and passed it to her. Remora went ahead and texted it to her, then she ordered another drink.

“We’re not gonna head over there?” I asked.

“Knowing her, it’s gonna take another hour before she shows up.”

“Oh, well in that case…” My thoughts drifted once again to Rhea. “Can I try something out?”

“What?”

“Can I pretend it’s Rhea sitting next to me? I know it sounds weird, but I think it would help me move on.”

“Sure, if you think it’ll help.”

“Thank you,” I cleared my throat. “Okay, here goes…”

I thought of the right words to say, as if I was having a conversation with someone I could never have. How would I address them? I figured starting with their name was a good starting point.

“Rhea,” I began.

“Yeah? What is it?” Remora replied.

“What?” I paused.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to pretend to be her or not.”

“You can respond if you want. I’d mostly like it if you listened.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“It just pains me to know that there’s so much about you I’ll never know. Like what life must have been like for you. I know you gave off the impression of a cold and merciless mercenary, but for whatever reason, you showed me mercy. Even though I killed your partner, Douglas Fir. I still wish I hadn’t done that to him, even knowing how he terrorized my home, I’m still disgusted at myself for that.”

“Eh, he had it coming,” she replied.

“What?”

“Oh. Nothing. He just sounds like a sleazy guy. Carry on.”

“Now that I think of it, it wasn’t that you simply showed me mercy. You offered me a choice I could not accept. When I refused the first time, you tried to stop at nothing to kill me. When that didn’t work, you decided to try to talk with me and see if you reach a different solution. I don’t really understand why. You could have killed me while I was recovering. I wish I could have known what it was.”

She didn’t respond that time. I continued.

“You knew about me through files written on me. Could deduce my personality just through a few sentence descriptions. But I, even from what little I saw of you, still didn’t really know you. I knew you had a condition. It fascinated me, truth be told. Thoughts like ‘I wonder what it is that made you this way’. Even if I knew, I don’t think I could have helped you, as much as it pains me to say. Whether it was a physical or mental condition, I don’t think I would have known what to do. Whether or not there really was a cure, it didn’t seem like something I could have figured out.”

“Why should I feel sympathetic when our roles were more antagonistic? I cannot say. Maybe I saw us as kindred spirits, in spite of our roles. To me, it looked like you were in pain, just as I was. It may have been expressed differently, but I still sensed a pain, a certain tiredness in you. I think that’s what affected me so deeply about your death.”

“I wonder...did you really mean it when you said I was a disappointment? I know, such a strange thing to dwell on.”

She took another drink. “If you want my opinion, the only person you should worry about disappointing is yourself.”

“Well, I’m rather remorseful of how I used to act.”

“Hmm...Remorseful...Gah! I should’ve changed my last name, too! I just couldn’t come up with a pun, so I decided to leave my last name as is!”

“...What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Remora waved her hand away. “Just frustrated. I could’ve worked with that! I only chose this name because I saw a remora at an aquarium and they seemed interesting.”

“Wait, is Remora not your real name?”

“It is. I just had a previous name. I liked to work with name puns. Giving myself this name, it felt like a sense of freedom for me.”

“My birth name was Etna,” I told her in an attempt to relate.

“Yeah, but your name is Ves. Just as mine is Remora. We don’t need to worry about past names.”

“Yeah, but what about past actions? Experiences?”

“You said you acted with the intention of being happier. Well, are you happier now?”

I had to stop and think. Was I? In a way, I had made myself unhappy. But through that, I was able to experience what I had been missing for so long, so in that sense, I found it worth it.

“Yes. It’s taken me a while to get there and it’s still a long journey, but I’m in a much better place now. It’s just been a slow process.”

“Good. That’s all you need to worry about. Is making sure you keep moving forward and realize that the journey has been worth it.”

“What about you?”

“Eh. Same. It’s an adjustment, but I’m open to it.”

“That’s good. I’m glad for you.”

“Why? You just met me.”

“I don’t know. I just feel like I’ve known you already.”

She pointed at my glass. “You haven’t finished your drink.”

“Oh. Lemme do that right now,” I held up the glass and downed it in one big gulp.

“Isn’t that the wrong kind of drink to be chugging down?”

My head was already starting to feel funny. “Yes. I. Think I’m ready to go home.”

“Oh, bother,” she held her palm to her forehead and shook her head. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I should be fine.”

Besides the fact that I felt like I was going to collapse on the sidewalk.

“Here, let me walk you home. That’s where I’m meeting my partner, anyway.” She slipped a hundred dollar bill on the counter, then stood up.

Before I could object, she carried me on her shoulders as I felt myself start to get drowsy.

While we walked home, through my sleepy voice, I continued to try to strike conversation with her.

“Do you and this person live together?” I asked.

“If you’re referring to the grocery partner, no. We just happen to work at the same place and the manager asked us to go shopping here.”

“Oh? What do you do for work?”

“I work at a restaurant. I never thought I’d see myself doing that kind of work, but it’s better than my old job.”

“What was your old job?”

“I killed people.”

Ah, for whatever reason, that didn’t sound so bad. Probably because I was just hazy enough that I didn’t think much of it.

“I used to work as a therapist, myself. But I think I did more harm than good. It’s a real shame. I think I’ve done better for both mine and others’ mental health since I quit,” I droned on.

“Sometimes you just gotta say ‘fuck work’,” she replied.

“Yeah,” I agreed, then smiled. “Fuck work.

We arrived, and she let go. I managed to stand on my own. Already, I felt more clear.

“Say, would you like to meet my wife?” I asked, rather on a whim.

Remora looked around, then shrugged. “Sure. She’s still not here yet.”

I went up to the door, unsure if she had come home yet. I could have texted her, but I figured if she didn’t show up after I knocked, I’d have my answer. After my knock, she came up right away.

“Oh hey, look at you! You’re outside on your own!”

I nodded, a bright smile upon my face. “Actually, I ran into someone.”

“Oh? Who?” She leaned her head over. After she gasped, she turned back to me. “Is that the weird stalker lady?”

“No, but the resemblance is uncanny,” I whispered. “She’s friendly. Her name is Remora.”

“Oh!” She shoved past me and ran out to see Remora up close. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Why?” Remora asked in response.

“Because if Ves says you’re friendly, you must be friendly!”

“You’re cute,” Remora stated. It could have been interpreted in a sarcastic manner, and yet it came out so plain as to be nothing more than a general statement.

“Thanks! So are you! So is Ves!”

Remora looked like she was about to get a word in, but before she could, someone came running up with a backpack on and a shopping bag in their hand. I focused on the figure, she was someone small, didn’t even look five feet tall. Her hair, dark green and wavy. Plus, she wore a sombrero over her hair. The creature didn’t notice my wife and I, and instead focused on Remora.

“Found you! And look! I got it! There was a dollar on the ground and I was able to get it! Still missing the throwing knives, though…” She looked down at the ground, as if she suffered a great loss.

“Good for you. Did you get the groceries?”

“Of course! They’re in my backpack! What have you been up to?”

Remora pointed her thumb toward me.

The girl (pardon me for referring to her as “creature” just a bit ago) looked over and gasped. “I was too late! You seduced them both!”

“What are you talking about?” Remora asked.

“Or...maybe it was those two who did the seducing!”

“I’m lost.”

Me too. Did I know her? Did she know Juniper and I?

She took off the sombrero and set it on the ground, then reached into the shopping bag and pulled out a blonde wig, then placed it on her head. The wig in question had pigtails. With furious motions, she pointed at my wife, then herself, then looked up at Remora and opened her mouth, but didn’t make a sound, just had it open wide as if she would have yelled had she made a sound. But as she looked at Remora, she continued to point at the woman beside me.

“What is she doing?” Remora asked Juniper and I.

We both shrugged.

“I think it’s called pantomiming?” Juniper suggested. “I’ll be honest, though: I was never that good at charades.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I admitted.

The girl looked furious, took off the wig, then undid the pigtails and tried to straighten up the wig. Then, she took out a pair of glasses from her pocket, put them on, and then put the wig back on. This time, she chose to point at me, just as furious.

Her finger, at first at me, then back at the one beside me, then she faced her thumb at herself.

“Is she your guys’ daughter?” Remora asked my wife and I.

We both shook our heads.

She tore the wig from off of her head, threw it on the ground and stomped on it.

“I can’t believe you guys!” She yelled at last, as I assume she had been holding it in. “That’s my cousin!” She faced Remora, then pointed once again at my wife. “Juniper Bark!”

Wait. Something dawned on me. But before I could say it, Juniper spoke up instead.

“Oh, I remember you! From the wedding, right? Demetria!”

“Bingo. And I came to stop you!”

“From what?”

“From stealing Remora! I saw her first!”

Juniper clapped. “Good job!”

Demetria blinked. “Oh. Thanks. I mean, I’m not actually into her. I just think she’s cool. Yeah. That’s all.”

What was with her demeanor? At one point she really was high-energy, like the impression of her I got from Remora suggested, but now she seemed stunned.

“Uh, well, anyway,” She looked away, embarrassed. Of her previous actions? Hard to say. “Juniper, your brother’s still a doctor, right?”

“In a sense!”

“Is he here? Can I talk to him?”

Juniper shook her head. “He lives at the same apartment he did before, Vespiquen and I just moved to a new one. Why do you ask?”

“I wanted to ask him what the condition was when you see this tall, strong lady and your whole personality changes and all you can think about is being in her strong arms and how hot she is. I was wondering if he could diagnose me.”

Juniper put her hand over her mouth and had a devilish grin on her face. “Ohoho, I can tell you that right now.”

“What? You can?”

“Mhm. I’m afraid it’s terminal.”

“What?!”

“Yup! And there’s no cure!”

“That’s horrible!” Demetria cried out.

I nudged Juniper and gave her a glare.

“Oh, all right,” Juniper relented. “I diagnose you with gay.”

“I can’t believe you! You had me in quite a shock! I’m going to remember this!”

Although the focus had been on Demetria, I shifted my attention back to Remora, to which a scowl was forming on her face.

“Ves.”

Startled, I asked, “what is it?”

“Does the name ‘Clara Waters’ mean anything to you?”

I took a minute to think about it, but then it came.

“Actually, yes. That was one of the names Rhea had used.”

“Figured as much,” the last syllable on her breath had a tinge of a snarl to it.

“Which city was it that she died in?” Was the next question from her.

“This one. Why?” She seemed to be piecing something together.

“I see.”

“Is there something that I’m missing, here?” Demetria looked at all three of us.

“Demetria,” Remora growled.

“Eep! Was It something I did? I’ll behave!”

“Can you wait for me at the airport?”

There was a definite anger to her voice, though it didn’t sound like it was directed at Demetria, but someplace else.

“Oh. Yeah. I can do that.” Demetria picked up both the bag with the wig as well as the bag of groceries that Remora had carried just a bit ago. “Um, see you later?”

Remora nodded.

I opened my mouth, curiosity or concern having overtaken me. “What is this about?”

“I’m about to find out. It was nice to meet you. Now I must meet a corpse.”

“Huh?”

“This was never about grocery shopping and the fact that I didn’t figure it out sooner disgusts me.”

That didn’t clear anything up for me, but what was clear was that she was about to take off.

“Um, before you go…”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to be friends?”

“Why?”

“I think it’s what Rhea would have wanted.”

It felt rather manipulative of me; a dirty trick. Even if that was the case, I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her that the reason was that I saw it as a second chance for me. To befriend someone so similar to Rhea.

“What does this person’s wishes have to do with me?”

Oh no. Her words sounded hostile. But then, she let out a sigh.

“All right. Fine. I’ll put your number in my phone.”

“Ooh!” Juniper jumped up. “Me too!”

“Ladies, one at a time.”

After she entered our names into her contacts, we waved goodbye to her. It was somewhat of a relief to see her off, just as it was to meet her in the first place.

“So, that was interesting, huh?” Juniper observed.

“Mhm. Didn’t expect to run into Demetria, either. I thought she was pursuing her Master’s degree. Maybe she graduated already.”

“Oh! I didn’t even think about that!”

Juniper locked her fingers within mine, and the two of us went back into our apartment. The day had turned out to be quite overwhelming, though a large portion of it was a good kind of overwhelming.

Once we were both on the couch and curled up next to each other, I pieced something together of my own.

“Remora really was Rhea.”

“Huh?” Juniper looked up at me.

“Well, not the one that we knew. If I had to guess, I’d say it was similar to how I met another you once.”

Though such a thing wasn’t something I expected to encounter ever again. Still, there was no doubt in my mind; Even if I had deduced without total confirmation, since I believed I had an answer as to why I thought of Rhea so much around Remora, I also believed that was all the more reason to treat her as if she were someone new.

#wriitng #remoras full #old friends #enemies to friends #some minor reveals #stories #vesuvius #remora #rhea #demeter #lgbt #wives

[sigynpenniman]

The Protective Energy of Dr. Julian Bashir: An Analysis of Exactly Why I Love This Space Doctor So Much

Note: I said I was gonna fuck around and write an essay and then I kinda did. I tend to end up writing essays when I get into stuff. I actually have a longform writing blog but all the Bashir fans are following me here so this seemed like the better place to post this. This was completely inevitable. 3,500 words. Enjoy, y’all.

I have very severe fear of doctors. It’s what the medical field calls White Coat Hypertension, on a slightly higher scale. It’s not debilitating – I’m able to receive medical care when necessary. But it is quite intense, and it’s been a bear to live with. Every interaction with medicine – every physical, every dental cleaning, every trip to the ER (and yes, there has been one in there) has been accompanied by overwhelming, nauseating anxiety. It’s severe enough to affect me even when I am not the patient – even walking into doctor’s offices in support of other people lights a certain fire of anxiety in my stomach. While I have never been walked across the gallows to face my own execution, I can’t help but imagine the way I feel walking into a doctor’s office has to be a similar emotion. I explain this because while this is a semi-analytical piece, it’s also a personal one; I’m writing this to not only talk about the technical features of this character that make me love him so much but to also talk about exactly what he means to me, and in order to really understand the weight of that, you need to understand the context. I do not like Doctors. Never in my life have Doctors been a source of comfort, of safety, of any positive feeling other than vague gratitude when they prescribe me the antibiotics I so often badly need. I understand that there’s a big difference between fiction and reality, but trust me when I say, the distance of fiction is not enough to take the edge off this particular phobia – as much as I want to get into watching House (it’s exactly the kind of show I tend to get into), the medical scenes always make me feel a little woozy. So just know – when I stand up and say that I really, really love this Doctor – that is something of note.

Out of the 6 (so far) series of Star Trek, the most unique, and almost definitely the least well known, is Deep Space Nine. The Original Series and The Next Generation are legendary, most devoted Trekkies have a soft spot in their hearts for Voyager, people are aware of Enterprise (even if it is just to hate it), and Discovery is a current pop culture phenomenon. But while Deep Space Nine shares the genre and aesthetic of other Trek shows in its time period, it’s a creature all its own. DS9 can sometimes be “the forgotten trek” – it never aired alone (TNG started before DS9 and Voyager ended after it – there was never a time when DS9 was the only Trek show on) and it’s more known to devoted and establish Trek and sci-fi fans than to casual viewers. Among Trekkies, however, DS9 is one of the most beloved series: many would call it their favorite. Certain elements of the show – the multi episode arcs, discussions of grey morality, overall heavier subject matter, and the way the crew treat each other like a family (to a greater extent even than other Trek crews) endear the show to Trek fans and other sci-fi fans alike. Another unique feature of DS9 is the broad diversity of its cast – while most Star Trek series’ casts tend to consist of mostly humans with one or two aliens, the DS9 cast is mostly aliens with only a few humans. There is not one character in DS9 who makes you groan when they appear, and to be completely honest, I could write essays about just about every single one of these characters. But we are here for one of these characters in particular: Doctor Julian Bashir.

Julian Bashir is Deep Space Nine’s Chief Medical Officer, fresh out of Starfleet academy when the show begins. He’s book smart but young and naïve, and could probably stand to work on his social skills – he’s got that endearing (or wildly annoying, depending on who you ask) tendency to talk far too much for far too long, he thinks he knows absolutely everything, and he’s all smiles and idealism. Many people find him annoying in these early seasons. Personally, I have to disagree – I find him absolutely adorable. He’s got a bit of the character of a puppy in human form, but whether season 1 Bashir is annoying or adorable is certainly a matter of opinion. As the show progresses, he matures quite a bit; he learns when to shut up and certainly some other hard lessons about the nature of life. But these are characteristics which anyone who has watched the entire series would comment on, these are the general character high points anyone analyzing DS9 would hit. I’m less concerned about those. I’m much more concerned with the other features of the character, the things he does that are easily missed because the show generally doesn’t linger on them. And more primarily, I’m concerned with understanding exactly why I love him so much. I’m here to take a dive into my own mind.

The first thing to know about Bashir is that he’s portrayed with an incredible softness. He’s reassuring and gentle, and tends to spend as much time comforting his patients as actually working on them. He exits so many scenes by reassuring people that “If they need him, he’ll be right outside” that an entire supercut could be made of just him saying that line. Towards the beginning of the series, his caring nature is about the only thing we know about him. He’s clearly a doctor who became a doctor because he really, truly cares about saving people, and has devoted his life to that cause. This is common among Star Trek doctors – every Trek series has a doctor, and being genuinely caring and good is a definitive character element for the role. But Dr. Bashir has got the best bedside manner of any them, not just in his words but his whole bearing. He’s just got a kind of comforting aura about him. This is a major part of what makes the character so loveable – now let’s talk about the rest.

Let’s start with episode 1x13, “Battle Lines”.

“Battle Lines” is one of the first major dangerous situations the main cast gets themselves into. Plenty has gone wrong in the series so far, yes, but this is the first time we’ve seen the main cast up a creek without a paddle on a distant planet (or moon, as the case may be). Sisko, Kira and Bashir are shipwrecked on an unexplored moon in the gamma quadrant without any easy way to get home or contact the station. Unbeknownst to them, they’re stumbled into a many-hundred-year war between the “Ennis” and the “Nol-Ennis”. It’s pretty much the Sneeches on the Beaches here, but a little more deadly. Kira is shot in the shoulder almost as soon as they arrive, and deals with the injury for most of the episode. This exchange is what follows (scripts from TrekCore):

KIRA I'm all right

BASHIR The hell you are.

Bashir approaches Shel-la.  Nima's gun is instantly on him.  Despite Nima's threat, Bashir points to the medical kit next to Shel-la's throne.  He is well aware of the danger he's courting.

BASHIR She needs treatment.  I’d like my medical case (beat )If you don’t mind.

After a beat... Shel-la nods to Nima who picks up the kit, looks through it briefly, then tosses it to Bashir.  Bashir hurries over to Kira.  He scans her with his tricorder and administers a hypospray.

Here’s a relevant note: the scripts differ slightly from what actually occurs in the show. Nima doesn’t toss the kit to Bashir – he grabs it from her, losing patience with the way the Ennis are treating them. The thing that sticks out in this exchange is the extent to which Bashir prioritizes the safety of his patients and colleagues above his own. This is the first time we really get to see him in action or in real danger – and he’s got a gun to his throat, and he doesn’t care. His single minded concern is taking care of Kira. The fact that there’s a person holding a gun on him is completely irrelevant.

Let’s talk about another phenomenal Bashir episode (and one which stars our favorite Lizard, Garak): 2x22, “The Wire”. Everyone jokes about this episode being a fanfiction come to life but to be honest that’s exactly what it is. More importantly for my purposes, it contains another fantastic “Bashir doesn’t care about anything except his patients” moment:

ODO Doctor, I was hoping to ask Garak some questions.

Bashir intercepts Odo by the door.

BASHIR (glances at Garak) He's asleep.  He has been ever since I turned off his implant. (a beat) Come on.  We can talk outside.

ODO Doctor, I need to talk to him as soon as possible.  I have four homicide cases left in my files that I'm almost certain were committed by the Obsidian Order.  If Garak was a member... he may be able to shed some light on them.

BASHIR I'm afraid your questions will have to wait.

ODO (not happy) How long?

BASHIR I don't know yet.

Bashir sees that Odo is about to object and beats him to the punch.

BASHIR Constable, Garak's body has undergone a severe shock.  I don't know when he'll recover.  I'm not even sure if he'll recover.

ODO In that case, I want to talk to him now.  Wake him up.

BASHIR I'll do no such thing.

ODO Doctor, these are murder cases.  And he could be a suspect.

BASHIR Maybe so, but he's also my patient.   And I won't have him disturbed. So until further notice, his quarters are off limits to everyone but emergency medical personnel.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a patient to attend to.

Odo nods, not really happy, but right now Bashir could care less.  He returns to Garak's room, leaving Odo outside in the corridor.

Odo’s interested in solving his murder cases. Bashir is…unbothered. His sole and only concern is the health and safety of his patient. And this carries on...

BASHIR What happened?

WEBB He got beaten up by some ghosts.

Bashir kneels down next to the boy.  Danny's shirt is cut up and bloody.

WEBB (continuing) My wife went to get help, but there's only one doctor on duty at the Processing Center.

BASHIR Why don't you let me take a look?  I know a bit about medicine.

SISKO Julian...

Bashir takes Sisko aside so they can talk in private.

BASHIR It can't hurt just to look.

A beat, then Sisko nods his consent.

Bashir returns to Danny's side.  He carefully unbuttons and pulls aside the boy's blood-soaked shirt, then examines the wounds.

BASHIR Looks like you were lucky.  No broken ribs and these cuts are mostly   superficial.  You're going to be okay. (to Webb) You're going to need some clean rags and something to disinfect the wounds. Alcohol should do.

What’s at stake here? The timeline. This episode takes place a couple hundred years in the past (transporter accident, of course), and everything Sisko and Bashir do risks messing up the future. That’s what Sisko’s concerned about here, but Bashir is, still, unbothered by anything other than worry for this injured person.

And on…

(6x02, Rocks and Shoals)

KEEVAN Captain Sisko, my name is Keevan. We have a lot to talk about.

BASHIR Not for a while, you don't. (to Sisko) He needs immediate surgery.

SISKO Now?

BASHIR I don't think I have any choice.

The Jem'Hadar suddenly start gathering around Keevan. Bashir looks up in concern.

BASHIR I'm a doctor. I won't harm him.

KEEVAN (cynical smile) They're not here to protect me. They've just never seen what the inside of a Vorta looks like.

The Jem'Hadar crowd around for a better look as Bashir takes out his surgical instruments. Sisko decides he doesn't want a better look and grabs a seat on the floor as Bashir prepares to operate in front of an audience.

(later in the same episode)

KEEVAN (groggy) I... am... alive.

BASHIR No self-diagnoses, please. I'm the doctor here.

Bashir checks him out with the tricorder and his own observations as Sisko and Remata'Klan come over.

BASHIR (off tricorder) Internal hemorrhaging has stopped...your free collagen levels are dropping... tissue growth factors have stabilized... and there's a fifty percent rise in cell oxygenation. (beat) You're alive.

Keevan shifts a little, tries to get more comfortable, but an unwary move sends a jolt of pain throughout his body.

BASHIR Careful. Most of your insides are being held together with cellular micro-sutures and a lot of hope.

Another note the script doesn’t show: The banter between the Vorta Keevan and Bashir in these scenes is kind, comedic, almost affectionate. Bashir’s choice to operate on the injured Vorta was something he pretty much had to do, to save everyone’s lives – but he certainly doesn’t have to be nice to him on the way. But he is – just because.

And on, and on, at length. These are the first type of “Bashir Moral” episodes – the repeated scenes where Bashir prioritizes his patients over criminal investigations, over war alliances, over his own safety, over everything. There’s a second type of “Bashir Moral” episode– the ones where he gets very, very angry. He doesn’t get angry much. He’s not an angry character or a character with a temper. But every now and then, we see him truly furious. The most notable examples being

(4x04, “Hippocratic Oath)

O'BRIEN You can bring me up on charges, you know.

BASHIR That's not really my style.

O'Brien nods.

O'BRIEN I... wish things could've been different, Julian.

BASHIR So do I.

O'BRIEN And I'm sorry I had to destroy your work

BASHIR (quiet) You didn't have to, Chief. You had a choice. And you chose to disobey orders, override my judgment, and condemn those men to death.  

O'BRIEN Yes, I did. (beat) Because I thought it was the only way to save your life. Whatever else you make think of me and what I did -- at least understand why I did it.

Bashir has been attempted to synthesize a cure for the Jem’Hadar’s Ketracel White addiction, but O’Brien is forced to destroy this almost-cure in what O’Brien believed was the only right choice. This episode is morally fascinating – the episode ends making a clear point that there’s two sides to be on here, either siding with Bashir or O’Brien, and most people who watch WILL fall on one side or the other of the episode’s moral conflict. While it’s hard to represent with script alone, another fantastic episode in the series of “Bashir being angry about injustice” is 4x24 “The Quickening”, in which he does everything he can to rescue a planet affected by an apparently incurable, artificially created illness. He does everything he can, but is unable to find a true cure. But what he is is angry – quietly, yes, but angry just the same. And then there is, of course, possibly my favorite episode: 7x23, “Extreme Measures”. Bashir and O’Brien capture Luther Sloan, leader of arguably evil Starfleet Underground division Section 31, in hopes of securing a cure for a disease that’s killing Odo and which they have reason to believe Section 31 was involved in. They get their cure – and they kill Luther Sloan in the process (technically Sloan commits suicide, but it would be hard to argue Bashir and O’Brien’s innocence in a court of law). I adore this episode. It’s the clearest we ever get to see Bashir’s character and moral choices – risking his life and safety in search of a cure for Odo, furious about Section 31’s very existence. And…somewhat unbothered about Sloan’s death. Certainly not remorseful.

And that’s the thing. That’s what differentiates Dr. Julian Bashir as a character; what makes him so incredibly special. His softness is not endless. His kindness bears an edge. Julian Bashir is man with puppy-saving kindness and spy-murdering ruthlessness in the same body. Combined with his genetically engineered superintelligence, he’s almost got a superhero bent about him, a sort of “with great power comes great responsibility”. He’s kind, he’s soft, he’s capable, he’s ruthless, and he’s ready to fight for his patients and his friends if the situation calls for it. And the situation does – several times. The whole energy of the character is best summed up in a single word: protective.

It’s that protective energy that makes him so completely endearing, at least to me. But it’s not just in the lines – it’s in the way he’s played. It’s impossible to discuss Bashir with giving due credit to Alexander Siddig. Bashir could have been really any kind of character off the back of the scripts alone. It’s the subtler choices the actor makes, the way he speaks, the tones and emphasis he chooses, his body language and the way he carries himself that turn Julian Bashir into something truly great. As played by Siddig, Bashir is a doctor you almost can’t help but trust. If you watch DS9 for any length of time, it’s almost impossible not to think at some point that you’d probably be perfectly happy leaving your life in Dr. Julian Bashir’s capable hands. He’d go to ends of human knowledge to save your life, and be more than happy to defend you against untold alien hoards on the way.

I cannot express how much I love this character. I find him endearing and adorable and protective and comforting and loveable. I started watching DS9 to begin with because I was introduced the character of Bashir and had to know more about him. I loved him from episode 1, and continued to love him for every minute of the following 175 episodes. This is certainly a matter of personal opinion – lots of people don’t feel this way at all, and it’s down to my personality that this particular character happens to fit in exactly with what I love in a character. But that’s how it always is with fictional characters we adore. Sometimes, we get lucky, and stumble upon characters that feel as if they were created just for us. This is just the kind of lucky I happened to get, and I’m so grateful for it.

I’ve established at the opening of this essay that I have a few issues with doctors, as a concept. I find them inherently terrifying. I have the exact opposite response to Dr. Bashir. Fictional, yes, but this is a doctor I want to run towards, not away from. I always joke that if I was in this universe, on DS9, you’d find me in the infirmary pretending to be injured or ill. I can’t express how significant this is. I have an ambient audio track from the wonderful Ambient Mixer that I assembled for myself (and also shared on tumblr) which consists of the background noises of Dr. Bashir’s infirmary – the low rumble of space station power, the distant beeping so ever present in Star Trek scenes, a few footsteps in the background. This audio mix is something I get a lot of use and listening out of. It’s a tool of calming and I often fall asleep to it. If you had walked up to me six months ago and told me that I would find comforting escapism in pretending to be in what’s effectively a hospital, I would have laughed in your face. Julian Bashir is the first positive association for doctors I’ve ever had. It’s kind of a weird thing to say as an adult, but so be it. I love this character so much, and it’s had real, positive effects on my real life. I’ve been sick for the last several days, which eventually involved me having to drag myself to the doctor. And I’ll be damned if I wasn’t…okay with that? Sure, it’s not somewhere I was thrilled about being, but I didn’t feel like throwing up, and I was able to get my heart rate down low enough that the doctor didn’t feel the need to comment on it. And the credit for this, funny as it may be, as much as some people would laugh at this, lies with one Dr. Julian Bashir. This character means so incredibly much to me, not just because he’s a fictional character I adore, but because he’s helped me to take a step towards overcoming something that affects my real life. 

What more incredible can fictional characters do for us than that?

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