#aware that his design might be wrong i never looked up a reference image

[ivythyrsus]

MY NAME IS JOHN MARSTON !!!!!!

sorry i havent posted in art in like forever 🙏 this is a school doodle i colored for sillies

traditional under da cut

#grapevines #rdr2 #john marston #i have been so obsessed with many things recently #so sorry if i dont post art of a fandom you followed me 4 #red dead is taking over my brain #help #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #aware that his design might be wrong i never looked up a reference image

[reanimatedcourier]

How to Write Indigenous Characters Without Looking like a Jackass:

Update as of December 26th, 2020: I have added a couple new sections about naming and legal terms, as well as a bit of reading on the Cherokee Princess phenomenon.

Boozhoo (hello) Fallout fandom! I'm a card-carrying Anishinaabe delivering this rough guide about writing Indigenous characters because wow, do I see a lot of shit.

Let's get something out of the way first: Fallout's portrayal of Indigenous people is racist. From a vague definition of "tribal" to the claims of them being "savage" and "uncivilized" mirror real-world stereotypes used to dehumanize us. Fallout New Vegas' narrated intro has Ron Perlman saying Mr. House "rehabilitated" tribals to create New Vegas' Three Families. You know. Rehabilitate. As if we are animals. Top it off with an erasure of Indigenous people in the American Southwest and no real tribe names, and you've got some pretty shitty representation. The absence of Native American as a race option in the GECK isn't too great, given that two Native characters are marked "Caucasian" despite being brown. Butch Deloria is a pretty well-known example of this effect. (Addendum: Indigenous people can have any mix of dominant and recessive traits, as well as present different phenotypes. What bothers me is it doesn't accommodate us or mixed people, which is another post entirely.)

As a precautionary warning: this post and the sources linked will discuss racism and genocide. There will also be discussion of multiple kinds of abuse.

Now, your best approach will be to pick a nation or tribe and research them. However, what follows will be general references.

Terms that may come up in your research include Aboriginal/Native Canadian, American Indian/Native American, Inuit, Métis, and Mestizo. The latter two refer to cultural groups created after the discovery of the so-called New World. (Addendum made September 5th, 2020: Mestizo has negative connotations and originally meant "half breed" so stick with referring to your mixed Latine and Indigenous characters as mixed Indigenous or simply by the name of their people [Maya, Nahua].)

As a note, not every mixed person is Métis or Mestizo. If you are, say, Serbian and Anishinaabe, you would be mixed, but not Métis (the big M is important here, as it refers to a specific culture). Even the most liberal definition caps off at French and British ancestry alongside Indigenous (some say Scottish and English). Mestizo works the same, since it refers to descendants of Spanish conquistadors/settlers and Indigenous people.

Trouble figuring out whose land is where? No problem, check out this map.

Drawing

Don't draw us with red skin. It's offensive and stereotypical.

Tutorial for Native Skintones

Tutorial for Mixed Native Skintones

Why Many Natives Have Long Hair (this would technically fit better under another category, but give your Native men long hair!)

If You're Including Traditional Wear, Research! It's Out There

Languages

Remember, there are a variety of languages spoken by Indigenous people today. No two tribes will speak the same language, though there are some that are close and may have loan words from each other (Cree and Anishinaabemowin come to mind). Make sure your Diné (you may know them as Navajo) character doesn't start dropping Cree words.

Here's a Site With a Map and Voice Clips

Here's an Extensive List of Amerindian Languages

Keep in mind there are some sounds that have no direct English equivalents. But while we're at it, remember a lot of us speak English, French, Spanish, or Portuguese. The languages of the countries that colonized us.

Words in Amerindian languages tend to be longer than English ones and are in the format of prefix + verb + suffix to get concepts across. Gaawiin miskwaasinoon is a complete sentence in Anishinaabemowin, for example (it is not red).

Names

Surprisingly, we don't have names like Passing Dawn or Two-Bears-High-Fiving in real life. A lot of us have, for lack of better phrasing, white people names. We may have family traditions of passing a name down from generation to generation (I am the fourth person in my maternal line to have my middle name), but not everyone is going to do that. If you do opt for a name from a specific tribe, make sure you haven't chosen a last name from another tribe.

Baby name sites aren't reliable, because most of the names on there will be made up by people who aren't Indigenous. That site does list some notable exceptions and debunks misconceptions.

Here's a list of last names from the American census.

Indian Names

You may also hear "spirit names" because that's what they are for. You know the sort of mystical nature-related name getting slapped on an Indigenous character? Let's dive into that for a moment.

The concept of a spirit name seems to have gotten mistranslated at some point in time. It is the name Creator calls you throughout all your time both here and in the spirit world. These names are given (note the word usage) to you in a ceremony performed by an elder. This is not done lightly.

A lot of imitations of this end up sounding strange because they don't follow traditional guidelines. (I realize this has spread out of the original circle, but Fallout fans may recall other characters in Honest Hearts and mods that do this. They have really weird and racist results.)

If you're not Indigenous: don't try this. You will be wrong.

Legal Terms

Now, sometimes the legal term (or terms) for a tribe may not be what they refer to themselves as. A really great example of this would be the Oceti Sakowin and "Sioux". How did that happen, you might be wondering. Smoky Mountain News has an article about this word and others, including the history of these terms.

For the most accurate information, you are best off having your character refer to themselves by the name their nation uses outside of legislation. A band name would be pretty good for this (Oglala Lakota, for example). I personally refer to myself by my band.

Cowboys

And something the Fallout New Vegas fans might be interested in, cowboys! Here's a link to a post with several books about Black and Indigenous cowboys in the Wild West.

Representation: Stereotypes and Critical Thought

Now, you'll need to think critically about why you want to write your Indigenous character a certain way. Here is a comprehensive post about stereotypes versus nuance.

Familiarize yourself with tropes. The Magical Indian is a pretty prominent one, with lots of shaman-type characters in movies and television shows. This post touches on its sister tropes (The Magical Asian and The Magical Negro), but is primarily about the latter.

Say you want to write an Indigenous woman. Awesome! Characters I love to see. Just make sure you're aware of the stereotypes surrounding her and other Women of Color.

Word to the wise: do not make your Indigenous character an alcoholic. "What, so they can't even drink?" You might be asking. That is not what I'm saying. There is a pervasive stereotype about Drunk Indians, painting a reaction to trauma as an inherent genetic failing, as stated in this piece about Indigenous social worker Jessica Elm's research. The same goes for drugs. Ellen Deloria is an example of this stereotype.

Familiarize yourself with and avoid the Noble Savage trope. This was used to dehumanize us and paint us as "childlike" for the sake of a plot device. It unfortunately persists today.

Casinos are one of the few ways for tribes to make money so they can build homes and maintain roads. However, some are planning on diversifying into other business ventures.

There's a stereotype where we all live off government handouts. Buddy, some of these long-term boil water advisories have been in place for over twenty years. The funding allocated to us as a percentage is 0.39%: less than half a percent to fight the coronavirus. They don't give us money.

"But what about people claiming to be descended from a Cherokee princess?" Cherokee don't and never had anything resembling princesses. White southerners made that up prior to the Civil War. As the article mentions, they fancied themselves "defending their lands as the Indians did".

Also, don't make your Indigenous character a cannibal. Cannibalism is a serious taboo in a lot of our cultures, particularly northern ones.

Our lands are not cursed. We don't have a litany of curses to cast on white people in found footage films. Seriously. We have better things to be doing. Why on earth would our ancestors be haunting you when they could be with their families? Very egotistical assumption.

Indigenous Ties and Blood Quantum

Blood quantum is a colonial system that was initially designed to "breed out the Indian" in people. To dilute our bloodlines until we assimilated properly into white society. NPR has an article on it here.

However, this isn't how a vast majority of us define our identities. What makes us Indigenous is our connections (or reconnection) to our families, tribes, bands, clans, and communities.

Blood quantum has also historically been used to exclude Black Natives from tribal enrollment, given that it was first based on appearance. So, if you looked Black and not the image of "Indian" the white census taker had in his brain, you were excluded and so were your descendants.

Here are two tumblrs that talk about Black Indigenous issues and their perspectives. They also talk about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people of Australia.

However, if you aren't Indigenous, don't bring up blood quantum. Don't. This is an issue you should not be speaking about.

Cherokee Princess Myth

"Princess" was not a real position in any tribe. The European idea of monarchy did not suddenly manifest somewhere else. The closest probable approximation may have been the daughter of a chief or other politically prominent person. But princess? No.

Here is an article talking about possible origins of this myth. Several things are of note here: women from other tribes may have bee shoved under this label and the idea of a "Cherokee Princess" had been brought up to explain the sudden appearance of a brown-skinned (read: half Black) family member.

For a somewhat more in depth discussion of why, specifically, this myth gets touted around so often, Timeline has this piece.

Religion

Our religions are closed. We are not going to tell you how we worship. Mostly because every little bit we choose to share gets appropriated. Smudging is the most recent example. If you aren't Indigenous, that's smoke cleansing. Smudging is done in a specific way with ceremonies and prayers.

Now, a lot of us were forcibly converted. Every residential school was run by Christians. So plenty of us are Catholic, Baptist, Anglican, Lutheran, etc. Catholicism in Latin America also has influence from the Indigenous religions in that region.

Having your Indigenous character pray or carry rosaries wouldn't be a bad thing, if that religion was important to them. Even if they are atheist, if they lived outside of a reserve or other Indigenous communities, they might have Christian influences due to its domination of the Western world.

Settler Colonialism and the White Savior Trope

Now we've come to our most painful section yet. Fallout unintentionally has an excellent agent of settler-colonialism, in particular the Western Christian European variety, in Caesar's Legion and Joshua Graham.

(Addendum: Honest Hearts is extremely offensive in its portrayal of Indigenous people, and egregiously shows a white man needing to "civilize" tribals and having to teach them basic skills. These skills include cooking, finding safe water, and defending themselves from other tribes.)

Before we dive in, here is a post explaining the concept of cultural Christianity, if you are unfamiliar with it.

We also need to familiarize ourselves with The White Man's Burden. While the poem was written regarding the American-Philippine war, it still captures the attitudes toward Indigenous folks all over the world at the time.

As this article in Teen Vogue points out, white people like to believe they need to save People of Color. You don't need to. People of Color can save themselves.

Now, cultural Christianity isn't alone on this side of the pond. Writer Teju Cole authored a piece on the White Savior Industrial Complex to describe mission trips undertaken by white missionaries to Africa to feed their egos.

Colonialism has always been about the acquisition of wealth. To share a quote from this paper about the ongoing genocide of Indigenous peoples: "Negatively, [settler colonialism] strives for the dissolution of native societies. Positively, it erects a new colonial society on the expropriated land base—as I put it, settler colonizers come to stay: invasion is a structure not an event. In its positive aspect, elimination is an organizing principal of settler-colonial society rather than a one-off (and superseded) occurrence. The positive outcomes of the logic of elimination can include officially encouraged miscegenation, the breaking-down of native title into alienable individual freeholds, native citizenship, child abduction, religious conversion, resocialization in total institutions such as missions or boarding schools, and a whole range of cognate biocultural assimilations. All these strategies, including frontier homicide, are characteristic of settler colonialism. Some of them are more controversial in genocide studies than others." (Positive, here, is referring to "benefits" for the colonizers. Indigenous people don't consider colonization beneficial.)

An example of a non-benefit, the Church Rock disaster had Diné children playing in radioactive water so the company involved could avoid bad publicity.

Moving on, don't sterilize your Indigenous people. Sterilization, particularly when it is done without consent, has long been used as a tool by the white system to prevent "undesirables" (read, People of Color and disabled people) from having children. Somehow, as of 2018, it wasn't officially considered a crime.

The goal of colonization was to eliminate us entirely. Millions died because of exposure to European diseases. Settlers used to and still do separate our children from us for reasons so small as having a dirty dish in the sink. You read that right, a single dirty dish in your kitchen sink was enough to get your children taken and adopted out to white families. This information was told to me by an Indigenous social work student whose name I will keep anonymous.

It wasn't until recently they made amendments to the Indian Act that wouldn't automatically render Indigenous women non-status if they married someone not Indigenous. It also took much too long for Indigenous families to take priority in child placement over white ones. Canada used to adopt Indigenous out to white American families. The source for that statement is further down, but adoption has been used as a tool to destroy cultures.

I am also begging you to cast aside whatever colonialist systems have told you about us. We are alive. People with a past, not people of the past, which was wonderfully said here by Frank Waln.

Topics to Avoid if You Aren't Indigenous

Child Separation. Just don't. We deserve to remain with our families and our communities. Let us stay together and be happy that way.

Assimilation schools. Do not bring up a tool for cultural genocide that has left lasting trauma in our communities.

W/ndigos. I don't care that they're in Fallout 76. They shouldn't be. Besides, you never get them right anyway.

Sk/nwalkers. Absolutely do not. Diné stories are not your playthings either.

I've already talked about drugs and alcohol. Do your research with compassion and empathy in mind. Indigenous people have a lot of pain and generational trauma. You will need to be extremely careful having your Indigenous characters use drugs and alcohol. If your character can be reduced to their (possible) substance abuse issues, you need to step back and rework it. As mentioned in Jessica Elm's research, remember that it isn't inherent to us.

For our final note: remember that we're complex, autonomous human beings. Don't use our deaths to further the stories of your white characters. Don't reduce us to some childlike thing that needs to be raised and civilized by white characters. We interact with society a little differently than you do, but we interact nonetheless.

Meegwetch (thank you) for reading! Remember to do your research and portray us well, but also back off when you are told by an Indigenous person.

This may be updated in the future, it depends on what information I come across or, if other Indigenous people are so inclined, what is added to this post.

#fallout 3 #fallout 4 #fallout 76 #fallout new vegas #fallout 1 #fallout 2 #fallout: new vegas #ozhibii'ige

[aminiatureworld]

In My Dreams IV

Characters: Xiao, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,167

Warnings: Brief depiction of violence, nightmares

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. This one was a little sketchy/ooc, prolly because I’m tired.

Xiao

If there was one thing that you appreciated most about your relationship with Xiao it was the fact that he never attempted to cage your independence.

Though the adeptus had a penchant for clinginess – something he’d never actually admit to – the circumstances of both his and your past had set a standard for a level of separation that you greatly appreciated. You were never pressured to tell Xiao about things you weren’t comfortable sharing and in return you never pressed your partner in regards to topics or events that made him somewhat uncomfortable.

And yet there was something very isolating about such a freedom.

It was an ordinary enough commission, laughably so in fact, the kind that you could knock back in ten minutes flat if you put a little effort into it. Treasure Hoarders were once more encroaching on Liyue, this time gathering at the vicinity of Dunyu Ruins, something that would surely be a hazard to the archaeologists who gathered to study the lost jade monument. The act of chasing out the Treasure Hoarders was indeed easy enough, and it was only until you started rifling through their loot that you found yourself uneasy.

The lid was an innocuous enough item. Though the box that it once covered was nowhere to be found it must’ve been a work of art, as the smooth tortoiseshell lid was clearly the result of patience and love. Painted a deep blue it depicted a snowy scene, with a castle or cathedral at the front and center. The building itself was of a unique design; a tall turret stuck out at the top while small onion domes sat a little lower, each painted a more outlandish color than the last. The architecture was completely unlike what one might see in either Liyue or Mondstadt, and really there should’ve been nothing to it except the odd design of the building. Yet the moment you set your eyes upon the building you felt something harden in the pit of your stomach.

You never thought about what you couldn’t remember; after all, what was the point of it? Why mourn something you weren’t even sure was good or bad? Yet in that moment you felt that you would give very little to not remember just a little bit. At least enough to know why the image of a cathedral in the snow made you wish deeply for something you couldn’t remember, and frightened you just as much.

“Something’s wrong with you face.”

“Xiao!” You sputtered, surprised by the sudden bluntness of your partner. “My face is just fine, a little dirt won’t kill me.”

“That’s not it.” Xiao scowled. “Your face is harder than usual. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened! Sometimes I just don’t smile, okay?” You instinctively moved the corners of your mouth upwards, trying to ignore the sudden jump in your heart rate. “I’m fine.”

Xiao looked supremely unimpressed at your efforts, sighing and flying up to the balcony of the Inn. You sighed, letting your expression once more droop. It was easy sometimes to forget how in tune Xiao was. You wouldn’t expect it from an adeptus who had spent thousands of years mostly secluded from humans, but your partner was impressively good at reading your mood. Usually you didn’t mind the ability of his, even welcoming the fact that he so bluntly brought up the question of your feelings. But today you wished despite yourself that he was a little less aware. After all, how could you explain to your partner what you didn’t even understand yourself?

The rest of the night was oddly tense. Though Xiao said nothing you could tell from the way he stared intently at your face that he hadn’t given up his suspicions. For your part you tried to ignore his gaze, talking about trivial matters such as the question of replacing the Guild roof and the fact that you had managed to gather a few Qingxin during your commissions. All the while you felt the roiling of your heart; and all the while you kept rubbing your fingers along the smooth finish of the lid in your pocket as if in doing so you might suddenly be struck with what you currently missed and currently, desperately, needed.

The next day you walked up to Katherine utterly exhausted. Though you’d made a concerted effort to sleep, knowing that if not you’d just arouse more worry in Xiao, most of the night had been spent tossing and turning, your eyelids feeling paper thin as you attempted to drag yourself down into the depths of sleep. Of course now that the sun was shining you felt like even a stone bench would be a soft enough mattress. Blinking heavily you smiled awkwardly at Katheryne.

“Any commissions today?”

“Two ordinary sweeps and one request.” Katheryne tilted her head slightly. “Are you sure you don’t need rest?”

“I’m perfectly fine Katheryne, thank you for worrying. You said there was a request?”

“Yes. It seems that the citizen who noticed the Treasure Hoarders for us claims to have been robbed by them. He says to meet you at Dunyu Ruins so you can hand over the item.”

“And what item is that?”

“He said it was some sort of box lid. He didn’t give many details I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable though of course we could send someone with you.”

“I’ll be fine, thanks for worrying.”

“Of course! Good luck!”

“Thanks.”

You turned around, trying to stem the ice that flooded your veins. Who was this man to whom the cathedral belonged? How did he come across such an odd item, was he from one of the other nations of Teyvat you hadn’t visited? Most of all you wondered if he held some connection to your past. The idea thrilled you in some way, though dread also lingered. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to meet this mysterious person. Commissions were commissions however; you wouldn’t betray the Guild. No matter how much you wanted to; you couldn’t.

The Dunyu Ruins were still, no monsters seemed to linger at the gates and no other adventurers peeked out from behind old walls. The air was utterly still, something which worried you greatly. Walking at an increased rate you sought out your mysterious commissioner. The more you thought about it the more you wished the whole thing to be over as soon as possible. Turning the corner you stopped in your tracks, gazing in awe at the person a few meters in front of you.

The first thing you thought was how oddly he was dressed. The second thing was that he was much younger than you had expected. The third thing was that you felt an odd sense of familiarity from him.

“Ah yes, the adventurer who accepted my commission. Have you brought what I asked of you?”

Though a response was certainly in order you found the words stuck in your mouth. Staring at him you felt the ground shift between your feet slightly. He was familiar, this young man in front of you, and yet he was also a perfect stranger. He seemed more like an apparition than anything, a spirit who had yet to cross to the far side. You stepped closer, reaching out your arm slightly. If you went to touch his shoulder, would your fingers go right through him?

“You really must think it’s odd that I’ve returned.” The man chuckled. “I assure you I’m completely real. You weren’t the only one to survive sister, though I know that information might be too little too late?”

“Sister?” You snapped out of your trance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Surely you aren’t pretending not to recognize me? I think that’s beneath even you. Come now, was I such a brat as that?” Reaching out the young man went to grab your hand. Instinctively you pulled away, feeling discomfort shoot through you.

“I don’t know what you mean? And you certainly aren’t my brother! I’ve never had a brother!”

“Then who was the kid you lived with your whole life before the incident?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know about any incident or any brother. You asked me here to return something so I’m returning it.” Reaching for the lid you thrust the little work of art in front of you. “Here. Take it.”

“So you really don’t know who I am?” The young man reached out to take the lid. “How is that possible? Have they gone so far as to erase me from your memories? Have I been taken out of your family?”

“They?”

“The gods.” The young man’s eyes seemed incredibly harsh all of a sudden. “Their presumptiveness holds no bounds.”

“Don’t speak of the archons that way.”

“Answer me this,” the young man ignored your protest, “where are you from.”

“Why should I tell you that?”

“Humor me.”

“I…” You stood there for a moment, wondering whether or not you should tell this strange figure the truth. Morbid curiosity floated in your mind, and you took a sharp breath. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“So I really have been erased from your mind.”

“Nothing’s been erased! I just don’t remember, should that surprise you so much?”

“Yes, it does. I see my plans will have to be changed.” The young man took a deep breath. “Very well then, we shall see what we shall see. I have an offer for you.”

“And what is that?” You felt suspicion wash over you.

“Join the Abyss.”

“Over my dead body!” Instinctively stepping away you drew your polearm. So that’s what this was about.

“I figured you might say that. However, let me tell you this. Our family was torn apart by the cruel whims of faraway gods. Teyvat suffered the same fate, still suffers it. You may not remember what happened to us, but I know it is buried in you somewhere. If you wish to avenge our family, then you’ll join us.”

“I have no petty thoughts of revenge against the gods.”

“That may very well change.” The young man smirked. “I’ll be back in a week. I expect your answers then.”

He was gone before you could say anything, carried away by a blanket of purple stars. You stared at the empty ruins, confused and empty, feeling far worse than you had felt when you arrived here.

“You look worse.”

“Thanks Xiao.” You let out a sigh, unsure how to respond.

You’d spent the rest of the walk back to the Wangshu Inn in agony, thoughts darting back and forth as you tried to reason with yourself about the veracity of the young man’s claims. There was no proof he was who he said he was after all, no proof that he wasn’t simply insane, or trying to convince you to join him by lying. Yet there was something about him, his demeanor, his anger, something that spoke to a truth about him. Not that the idea made you any happier. After all truth or not, he was still an Abyss member, or at least an advocate. You could never side with him, even if he was your long lost family. And yet what if he was your family? What then? Would it truly be a betrayal then to simply send him packing?

Xiao’s hand enveloped your own, the soft warmth drawing you out of your confused thoughts. Looking up you found him leaning into you, the tips of his hair lightly brushing your cheeks. His eyes bored into you ask he scanned your face. You stood perfectly still. You knew what Xiao was doing, knew that he was trying to figure out the depths of your discomfort. It was valiant of him, even if you hoped that he turned up empty handed. How could you tell Xiao, an adeptus who served directly under Rex Lapis, about the man who blasphemed the gods.

“You should sleep.” Xiao finally pulled away.

“It’s still early evening.”

“You didn’t sleep well last night, I could tell. You should sleep now; maybe you’ll feel better.”

“Maybe.” You replied, knowing that even if you slept better than you had ever before nothing would change when you woke up.

Still your eyelids were heavy and your feet aching. Sleep beckoned you with open arms, and you were quick to fall into its depths. Pressing a soft kiss on Xiao’s cheek you made your way up the stairs. Collapsing onto your bed you let out a sigh of relief. Sleep was coming on fast, and you quickly found the outside world swirling away. The last thing you were aware of was a dent in your mattress, and a set of familiar eyes staring down at you, filled with affection and worry.

It was dreadfully hot. That was the first thing you were aware of. The second was how loud everything was. There was a terrible sound swirling around you, inhuman shrieks seemed to rise up from the ground beneath you, accompanied with a banging that cracked through the air, echoing oddly in a night that was all too quiet. The third thing was that you had no idea where you were. Looking around you found yourself reeling at the scene that met your eyes. The house in front of you must’ve been nice at some point, but now had fallen into ruin and disrepair. Smoke was drifting up from a door that led into the ground, and bottles lay in pieces on the ground. A wall seemed to separate the house from the outside world, so tall that you had no idea what lay beyond it. Trembling slightly you felt yourself move towards the source of the noise, feet moving despite the rising dread that you felt. Making your way down a set of stairs a few lines came to you all of a sudden.

A ceiling of amber, a pavement of pearl

The smoke was thicker now, filling your lungs, leaving you short of breath. Little bits of orange blurred your vision, wielded by strange men in strange uniforms. They seemed distorted in the smoke, made into ghosts that might haunt a child’s nightmares.

Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still

You didn’t move your head towards the back of the room, somehow you couldn’t. Your very soul fought against it. Instead you closed your eyes, overwhelmed with how hot it was.

“You’ve come so far and you can’t even look?”

The voice was mocking, familiar, full of scorn. Opening your eyes you stared at the men in front of you, the men with fire at the tips of their hands. Why did he want you to look? You knew what you’d see. Somehow you knew.

We climb’d on the graves, on the stone worn with rains

You couldn’t make it out among the smoke. All you knew was that it was red.

You screwed your eyes shut, even as sudden clarity danced before you. Someone was calling your name.

There was a hand on your shoulder.

And alone dwell forever

The smoke cleared, and with it the dream.

The scream ripped through your throat before you could even process it. You knew that you should stop, knew that you were no longer dreaming, knew that the hand on your shoulder belonged to your terrified partner. Still you screamed. You screamed and screamed and screamed.

“Hey. Hey!” Xiao’s voice was frantic. Shifting your gaze towards him you felt yourself begin to tremble.

“It, it was true. It was true, I saw him. I saw him. I saw me. It was true. I, I, they’re dead. They’re dead.”

“It was a dream. No one’s dead.”

“But Xiao, they’re dead. He was right, they’re gone and dead and somehow I forget them.”

The loneliness slammed into you, mixing with the horror that sent your stomach churning. You dug you nails into your palm, desperately trying to stop shaking. Everything seemed distorted, the light emerging through the window just as menacing as the dark.

“Take my hand.”

Xiao pulled one of your hands on his lap, gently opening it and running his fingers over the marks that now rested in your palms. Unfurling your hand you it was flat against his he covered it with his own. Letting his palm rest gently against yours he looked up at you.

“No one is dead. You were having a nightmare.”

“I was remembering, Xiao. I finally remembered something. And now I wish I never had.” You unfurled your other hand, wiping furiously at the tears that pooled in your eyes. “I’m so alone Xiao, I’m so alone.”

“You aren’t alone.”

“My family, my family is gone. The only one left is an Abyss member. I, I’m so utterly alone.”

You felt Xiao drop your hand slightly. The sudden lost connection made your founder for a moment, but soon the feeling was lost as Xiao wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your forehead his grip was tight and strong, encasing you utterly in soft comfort. Letting yourself collapse slightly you leaned into his embrace.

“You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be here.”

If promises were conveyed in actions then you had no reason to doubt Xiao’s. Though the air around you was sticky with heat you found yourself pressing into your partner’s chest eyes more, soaking up every bit of connection that you could get. Xiao said nothing more, simply keeping you in his embrace, lips brushing against your cheeks as he kissed away your tears.

You knew that he wouldn’t ask about your brother that night, perhaps not even the morning afterwards, or even tomorrow evening. After all your partner wasn’t one for words, and your relationship wasn’t built upon the expectation of painful transparency. If you weren’t ready to talk he wouldn’t push you.

Eventually your tears slowed, though the pain in your chest still burned like a brand. Bringing your hands to your chest you gazed up at the adeptus who was still wrapped around you.

“Can we stay this way a little longer?”

Xiao’s eyes gleamed catlike in the moonlight. Leaning down he brushed his lips against yours, sighing slightly as you met him with exhausted ardor. Pulling back you rested your head on your partner’s chest. The dulled beat seemed almost musical, a reminder that Xiao was alive, a reminder that he was right next to you.

You had assumed in some way that it meant he didn’t care, or didn’t want to know. Though you would’ve never thought that before, the feeling of loneliness that had threatened to swallow you up had made that perfectly clear. Yet Xiao did care, cared enough not to prod and poke at wounds that were surely bleeding even now. Cared enough to kiss your worries away, cared enough to let you embrace him as long as you needed. Cared enough to show that you weren’t truly alone. 

In a week you’d give the young man who had once been your brother an answer. In a week you’d face the fact of your loneliness, of a family that you’d once been a part of. In a week you would let yourself be truly lonely. But until then you would listen to the familiar beat of Xiao’s heart as you remembered that you weren’t truly alone. That you never would be.

-------

The box lid itself was based off nothing in particular. The building painted on it is a reference to Saint Basil’s Cathedral. 

The poem I used was “The Forsaken Merman” by Matthew Arnold

The scene in the reader’s dream is a reference to the execution of the last Imperial family of Russia. It took place in the basement of the Ipatiev House in Ekaterinburg on July 17th/18th 1918. 

#genshin impact fanfiction #xiao #xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin xiao #requested #scenarios #my writing #sorry mistagged as gn out of habit first jme

[srbachchan]

DAY 4627

Jalsa, Mumbai                  Oct 31,  2020                 Sat 11:19 PM

Birthday - EF Vaijayanti Ravindra Damle ..  Sunday, November 1

Birthday Ef - Vishan Lal .. 

love and greetings to you both on this auspicious day .. be safe ..🙏

.. recents deaths and passings bring grief .. family , work and legendary .. they all had a life that gave so much to the world .. and the heavens welcome them .. in the peace .. 🌹🙏🌼🌸

.. and the Medium says it all ..

Things Most People Learn Too Late In Life ~ N Cole 

“Life is a journey of twists and turns, peaks and valleys, mountains to climb and oceans to explore.

Good times and bad times. Happy times and sad times.

But always, life is a movement forward.

No matter where you are on the journey, in some way, you are continuing on — and that’s what makes it so magnificent. One day, you’re questioning what on earth will ever make you feel happy and fulfilled. And the next, you’re perfectly in flow, writing the most important book of your entire career.

What nobody ever tells you, though, when you are a wide-eyed child, are all the little things that come along with “growing up.”

1. Most people are scared of using their imagination.

They’ve disconnected with their inner child.

They don’t feel they are “creative.”

They like things “just the way they are.”

2. Your dream doesn’t really matter to anyone else.

Some people might take interest. Some may support you in your quest. But at the end of the day, nobody cares, or will ever care about your dream as much as you.

3. Friends are relative to where you are in your life.

Most friends only stay for a period of time — usually in reference to your current interest. But when you move on, or your priorities change, so too do the majority of your friends.

4. Your potential increases with age.

As people get older, they tend to think that they can do less and less — when in reality, they should be able to do more and more, because they have had time to soak up more knowledge. Being great at something is a daily habit. You aren’t just “born” that way.

5. Spontaneity is the sister of creativity.

If all you do is follow the exact same routine every day, you will never leave yourself open to moments of sudden discovery. Do you remember how spontaneous you were as a child? Anything could happen, at any moment!

6. You forget the value of “touch” later on.

When was the last time you played in the rain?

When was the last time you sat on a sidewalk and looked closely at the cracks, the rocks, the dirt, the one weed growing between the concrete and the grass nearby.

Do that again.

You will feel so connected to the playfulness of life.

7. Most people don’t do what they love.

It’s true.

The “masses” are not the ones who live the lives they dreamed of living. And the reason is because they didn’t fight hard enough. They didn’t make it happen for themselves. And the older you get, and the more you look around, the easier it becomes to believe that you’ll end up the same.

Don’t fall for the trap.

8. Many stop reading after college.

Ask anyone you know the last good book they read, and I’ll bet most of them respond with, “Wow, I haven’t read a book in a long time.”

9. People talk more than they listen.

There is nothing more ridiculous to me than hearing two people talk “at” each other, neither one listening, but waiting for the other person to stop talking so they can start up again.

10. Creativity takes practice.

It’s funny how much we as a society praise and value creativity, and yet seem to do as much as we can to prohibit and control creative expression unless it is in some way profitable.

If you want to keep your creative muscle pumped and active, you have to practice it on your own.

11. “Success” is a relative term.

As kids, we’re taught to “reach for success.”

What does that really mean? Success to one person could mean the opposite for someone else.

Define your own Success.

12. You can’t change your parents.

A sad and difficult truth to face as you get older: You can’t change your parents.

They are who they are.

Whether they approve of what you do or not, at some point, no longer matters. Love them for bringing you into this world, and leave the rest at the door.

13. The only person you have to face in the morning is yourself.

When you’re younger, it feels like you have to please the entire world.

You don’t.

Do what makes you happy, and create the life you want to live for yourself. You’ll see someone you truly love staring back at you every morning if you can do that.

14. Nothing feels as good as something you do from the heart.

No amount of money or achievement or external validation will ever take the place of what you do out of pure love.

Follow your heart, and the rest will follow.

15. Your potential is directly correlated to how well you know yourself.

Those who know themselves and maximize their strengths are the ones who go where they want to go.

Those who don’t know themselves, and avoid the hard work of looking inward, live life by default. They lack the ability to create for themselves their own future.

16. Everyone who doubts you will always come back around.

That kid who used to bully you will come asking for a job.

The girl who didn’t want to date you will call you back once she sees where you’re headed. It always happens that way.

Just focus on you, stay true to what you believe in, and all the doubters will eventually come asking for help.

17. You are a reflection of the 5 people you spend the most time with.

Nobody creates themselves, by themselves.

We are all mirror images, sculpted through the reflections we see in other people. This isn’t a game you play by yourself. Work to be surrounded by those you wish to be like, and in time, you too will carry the very things you admire in them.

18. Beliefs are relative to what you pursue.

Wherever you are in life, and based on who is around you, and based on your current aspirations, those are the things that shape your beliefs.

Nobody explains, though, that “beliefs” then are not “fixed.” There is no “right and wrong.” It is all relative.

Find what works for you.

19. Anything can be a vice.

Be wary.

Again, there is no “right” and “wrong” as you get older. A coping mechanism to one could be a way to relax on a Sunday to another. Just remain aware of your habits and how you spend your time, and what habits start to increase in frequency — and then question where they are coming from in you and why you feel compelled to repeat them.

Never mistakes, always lessons.

As I said, know yourself.

20. Your purpose is to be YOU.

What is the meaning of life?

To be you, all of you, always, in everything you do — whatever that means to you. You are your own creator. You are your own evolving masterpiece.

Growing up is the realization that you are both the sculpture and the sculptor, the painter and the portrait. Paint yourself however you wish.”

Finding the reason to give be the element that survives all .. the giving when announced depletes the announce .. yes it is often told to speak .. but if the speak is not heard then ..?

.. so they that can feel the speak be the better .. it was for them not for the speak in any case .. but information they say needs to be put out .. really ?

for who ..?

for them that survive on information .. the information is mine .. the informed never were involved in it .. for them it is business .. my information is mine and is without a commercial value .. 

I know the commerce of value .. they that practice it are not wrong .. they are in its commercial .. they lead it with profession .. they chose it much all choose profession .. 

but all choosing never does agree with others .. no harm .. the other shall ever disagree , because it was never his .. they that disagree with their own are the divine .. they have the servility by their side .. a servile sum is never a subtraction .. 

it be ever in multiply ..

.. they that designed my costume for my film KHOON PASINA , never knew I would have to fight a real tiger in the film .. it was the most harrowing experience .. some day it shall be described .. done now would invite distress .. 

the ‘mahamaari’ has already taken care of that .. we do not need more ..

Amitabh Bachchan

[mk-wizard]

The Missing Mothers of Transformers Part 3

Hello, friends. This is a bonus part of a series based on a question that was asked by me a while ago. I warn you in advance that it is a sad topic and if you’re from a family where affairs and possible children through them happened, I will keep it sensitive. I am also not discussing this to tarnish the image of Rescue Bots nor do I mean to make the Burns family look bad. Anyway, here it goes and I’m sorry in advance if I make people sad.

A while ago, I did an analysis of the Burns family on why Mrs. Burns (the mother) is missing from the series. To sum it up in a recap, after noting that Chief Burns is as traditional as they come, it is shown that he has had way too much experience caring for his family alone even with so many kids with big age differences, he doesn’t wear his wedding band and no one talks about the missing mom and there are never even pictures of her. To me, this is all some rather dark evidence that it is likely that Chief and Mrs. Burns had a pretty rocky marriage and that she was in fact in a “problem child” of a wife who left all responsibility including raising the kids to Charlie and eventually either ditched them or Charlie had enough so he kicked her to the curb for the family’s own good. I should also note as someone who is married and knows other married couples; when someone doesn’t wear their wedding band yet highly values marriage and family, it is either because they do a lot of work with their hands or their own marriage was awful. In the case of Charlie Burns, other than cooking, his hands don’t get all that dirty with any hobbies or his work, so it is very likely that the latter is the case.

Anyway, as I have been rewatching the show because I like it and good shows are worth watching again, the analysis stayed with me and something began to not sit well with me. I didn’t know it at first until I paid close attention to the family group shots. I noticed something that took even more of my innocence towards the show away. The Burns kids don’t look like their dad. And what’s even more unsettling is that... each of them looks different. I mean, look at their hair! Each one of them has different coloured or shaded hair!

Even in the episode where Cody temporarily grows up, he doesn’t look like his dad. Sure they both have moustaches, but any man has facial hair.

Let me explain all of this further. Chief Burns is a blonde with hair that was once the same shade and is the same texture as Graham’s, but what about the other three kids? Cody’s the wrong kind of blonde with the wrong kind of texture while Dani and Kade are both redheads. And not even the same kinds. Also, if I saw these four kids together and didn’t know them, the only two who look related are Graham and Cody. Kade and Dani look like they came from different families and even Cody doesn’t look like his dad.

For those of you who don’t know genetics, refer to this chart;

After taking a good look and recalling that Charlie Burns is a blonde who went gray with age, in order for him and his wife to have had redheads, she would have had to have been a brunette at least. However, even with that said, would Dani and Kade have the same type of red hair? And isn’t just their hair that’s different, Cody and Kade’s faces are different from their dad’s and from each other. And as for Dani, she doesn’t look a thing like any of her brothers. In fact, recalling that only Graham looks like the Chief, Cody, Dani and Kade all don’t look like their dad or like each other.

I am putting together a picture in my mind that is making me flinch, but I have to point it out. It is not possible for three of the kids to not look like each other and yet for all of them to have come from the same two parents. I think Cody clearly took after his mother and his dad, Dani took after her dad and Kade took after his dad. Yes, I am phrasing it that way on purpose because I think Kade, Dani and Cody... each had different fathers and none of them were Charlie. I know it’s a pretty dark conclusion especially for a kid’s show, but the evidence is just too compelling. It explains why they don’t look related and also why their age differences are all over the place. I can understand them having kids back to back with the first three, but Cody is still a kid indicating that he wasn’t planned. And suppose Mrs. Burns was fooling around with other men and getting pregnant by them, it would explain why she only left the picture after Cody was born. Charlie isn’t gullible or dumb, but for a person who was still in the beginning of his marriage, he might have just chalked up Kade and Dani’s red hair to coming from ancestors on their mother’s side and I can tell you as someone who has seen tons of babies, sometimes, who they take after is hard to read. I think it was only as the kids got older and their features matured, and Mrs. Burns’ true nature revealed itself, that Charlie became suspicious. And if at this point, things between them were that rocky, it is very likely that they became physically distant too. This means that Mrs. Burns fourth pregnancy which resulted in Cody could have only come from an affair which also gave away that she was having one because how else did she get pregnant if she wasn’t getting any from her husband?

The picture I draw after this is that after Cody was born, Charlie found out the truth about his other two kids not really being his either so he divorced his cheating wife. I don’t know if he threw her out and kept Cody out of compassion because he knew he was in for a bad life with such a sleazy woman or if Mrs. Burns just left and abandoned the family. I am also not sure if any of the kids are aware that Charlie isn’t really their dad if what I’m saying is true though judging by the way they act, I would have to say none of them know.

I know this fan theory is very, very sad, but in a way it also highlights to what extent Charlie is a good man and a hero. Most men would have been broken upon finding out that the majority of their kids weren’t theirs and would have even abandoned them. Charlie did no such thing. He stepped up and clearly loves all four of those kids as his own.

I also want to point out to anyone who says “well, it’s a cartoon so it’s going to have character design goofs”, all of the other characters who are family look related at least. Frankie is hinted to be the spitting image of her biological mother though her lips are that of her dad’s and her half-sister baby CeCe is a blend of her dad and stepmother.

And even mayor Luskey and his brother look related at least. Same nose, chin, eyebrows, face shape and hair. Their dimples even fall in the same places. Only the heights, body types, weights and skin tones are difference. If these two men can be so different yet can still easily pass off as brother yet the Burns kids are not so easy to pass off as family, you know something is up. And it wasn’t bad character design.

Once again, I am sorry if I made you sad and I hope I was sensitive towards people who have walked in these shoes. It is not a pleasant topic, but in a way, it is a good thing that Transformers represents people in these situations and shows us that it doesn’t matter where you came from. What matters is that you’re a good and kind person, and that love is what makes a family.

I would love to hear what people think of this theory I drew up or rather, the expansion on an existing theory. Hats off to the REAL dads and REAL moms who step up to the plate when other cowardly leave.

If you have a Transformers theory or character analysis you want explored, please let me know in my ask box. And please, support me through Patreon or Ko-fi if you want me to make Transformers merch and videos. Or if you want a commission of your favourite bot, let me know in my shop. All links are on my profile page.

Thanks for reading and please, stay safe. And please, take time to tell your parents how much you love them especially during this time of the year.

#transformers #transformers fandom #transformers fanfiction #transformers rescue bots #doc greene #ezra greene #cece greene #frankie greene #rescue bots high tide #rescue bots academy #mayor luskey #cody burns #dani burns #charlie burns #chief burns #kade burns #graham burns #family #tragedy #sad #unity #love #appreciate #divorce

[crazynekochan]

Okay, I have an idea for a AU. It comes based on how, aside from the pretty factor, we never really get to see Junko use her Ultimate Gyaru Talent in her plans. I was inspired by hearing about the Amekaji or 'American Casual' subculture of Gyaru and thinking "hey, yknow who this style reminds me of? Kazuichi" A quick reference to some samples before I get into my idea:

(Please excuse the fact that I didn't crop the screenshots)

Anyway- in this AU, I wanted to use how we all wanted Junko to manipulate the Remnants into following her and Kazuichi's trust issues. Junko, finding his talent to be one of the most immediately useful of the class and him to be one of the most easily manipulated and emotion driven of the class, decides to become his best friend! It starts slow, her beginning to hang out with him after classes and eventually during lunch, constant compliments, telling him what he wants to hear, comforting him when he trusts her enough to open up about his issues with trust. Soon enough, she's wormed her way into his circle, becoming his closest friend. He reveals that he didn't chose his appearance for his own happiness but for his image and she pounces. She insists that she can give him a glow-up- give him a partial overhaul. Help him with the god awful layering in his hair, maybe even make Sonia like him (or Gundham, depending on whether or not he has realized his feelings for him/given up on his crush on her if he has one at the start of this au). This is where the Amekaji Gyaru part comes in, she pretty much turns him into one. The way the class gets introduced to this style change is by Chisa coming by to round up Kazuichi when he doesn't come back after lunch. This is an approximation of what I think she would do on such short notice. (He was meant to have an expression but I gave up on that front on the sketch to have an easier go at designing his clothes without obstruction or scruntiching). Oh yeah, it's an Omegaverse AU btw, because I am predictable and pathetic lol.

I kinda want to make a fic with this and I'm planning on using Gundham's POV because he already likes Kazuichi before Junko began sinking her claws into him and he wound be concerned and conflicted from the get go. Because while Junko is very much using Kazuichi (though they don't catch onto that aspect right away), she's boosting his confidence. He's happy to have a best friend who cares about him seemingly unconditionally. But they also realise that he's becoming obsessive in a way that she's certainly not discouraging. He's always talking about her, texting her, hanging out with her, he even picks up some of her traits. At one point someone (Fuyuhiko most likely) would comment along the lines of "what are you in love with her or something" and Kazuichi would respond with something like "oh of course not! Junko deserves much more than me!" Or something equally self-deprecating and out of character like that. It's not healthy.

He would voluntarily watch the brainwashing video with Mikan (like in the Siren AU), believing that Junko just wanted to show him something cool. He would despair at the betrayal, since the despairs are aware enough to realise things like that. If he contracts the Remembrance disease, he would probably go for the convincing Ibuki into suicide route like in the Siren AU, for the opportunity to watch the despair. I love the idea of having an active despair in the cast and with this AU, instead of him just continuing to be devoted to Junko like in the Siren AU, I wanted him to actually come around as a Despair to Hope because of the others. Hajime is there now, he would've begun to be friends with Kazuichi and continue after Kaz remembers and he, being the good boy that Hajime is, actually treats Kazuichi like a real friend should. He didn't get to become close to Fuyuhiko before Junko got to him so he also becomes friends with him. Also, of course, Soudam happens. I'd imagine that they would make him come around enough to rebuke the Junko AI in the end.

Kazuichi definitely would feel guilty as hell when this is all said and done, however, the class would also feel guilty for letting him fall into Junko's clutches too. Also, the greater trauma of him knowing that his second best friend after the one in middle school pulled the same shit but worse? 👌👌👌. I have other sketches of them hat I plan to colour, so I'll be back. I'll link you the fic once I write it. Tell me what you think about this, please! Spare no thought! Oh yeah, I'm mentally calling this the Gyaru AU

---

Mod: It will never stop being huge wasted potential that Junko didn’t manipulate all the Remnants by using their trauma and weaknesses, and specifically chose them for their useful talents like it was implied in the game, and instead just went with them being chosen at random because they were Ryota’s classmates

Having Kazuichi be Junko’s first victim is perfect, because with his talent he is super useful to her and can easily make her unstoppable the moment she has him under her control. And with his trust issues and straight up need to have a friend in his life he would be an easy target for someone like Junko, who can very quickly play him like a fiddle. Let him vent to her, tell him what he wants to hear, give him confidence and then put him into his place so that he becomes her loyal dog who sees her like some god who will do anything to please her, just like Mikan did. Until she then finally breaks him by betraying him like his best friend did in the past. The pain must be so unbearable for the poor guy. I feel really bad for him, but at this point the brainwashing is already in place sadly, so he will just get some high from being used and betrayed all over again and again

Kazuichi going through the simulation way past getting infected and having all of his memories must be such a trip. Because he has to pretend like nothing is amiss while everything else is going on and make sure that no one notices his change in character (Which could be hard for him to do, since he doesn’t seem like a good actor) I could even see him during the last trial to try and push the others into doing the wrong choice until they manage to make him believe in hope again and having trust in his friends that they will not betray him ever. Which must be so hard for him to believe after being lied to so many times by people he trusted blindly, where Junko even made him and the others do such horrendous things. But it wouldn’t be DR if hope doesn’t win in the end and everyone manages to have a future

Though the most hurtful part must be seeing everything from Gundham’s POV, because he is stuck with having to watch how Junko is getting close to Kaz. Which is at first of course a nice thing on the outside, but when Kaz starts getting seriously degrading about himself it’s really getting concerning but it’s already too late. Even more painful for Gundham when he might have had a bad feeling about the “friendship” but has pushed it onto him probably just being jealous or something and as such never intervened when he really should’ve done so, because then all of this could’ve been avoided where Kaz was turned into a pupped who got to build the most brutal killing machines imaginable for Junko’s absolute insane plan of creating a world of despair. When the truth comes to light he would be feeling such immense guilt over not having seen the signs and came to help Kaz when he still had the chance (Could be even something Junko could use against Gundham, both back at HPA and in the last trial if he’s still alive at that time in the AU)

Also the artwork of Kaz after his makeover looks sooo good! He is beyond cute and it mixes so well his actual nerdy aesthetic he had before with something more fun and colourful (quite literally) ♥♥

#submission #soudam #au #Gyaru Au #mediamaxine #danganronpa #omegaverse

[veryvincible]

Ive seen a few blogs talking about Tony Stark with OCD and I was wondering what your thoughts on it were? I know it's not canon but would it be an okay headcanon?

Oh, goodness. This is a doozy.

First of all, I do want to give the obligatory "any headcanon is okay" when it comes to stuff like this, because some people do pick up comfort characters that aren't exactly like them and then use headcanons to push their characterization around until they become a more efficient catharsis vessel, and there's really nothing wrong with that in a space where characters are pushed around all the time anyway. Your headcanons are yours, and you interact with media how it best suits you. Just don't go talking like this is The Way The Character Absolutely Definitely Is, because not only is that misleading, but also it's kind of stepping on other people who need different headcanons for other reasons.

Now that that's out of the way.

You've come to the right place! I have actually been diagnosed with OCD and have been dealing with it now for a long, long while; funnily enough, the OCD is what led me to worry about the OCD, which is what led me to research the OCD in-depth for many, many years. Not to brag or anything. B) Like, literally not to brag, because it's a mental illness. Anyway, jokes aside.

I'm going to go by the DSM-5 and personal experience with the diagnostic process for now. I know some people have their gripes with the DSM, but it's what we're going with.

Before that, though, I do want to lay some things down here. Though it's not outlined by the DSM exactly, it's common among mental health professionals and people with OCD to categorize different symptoms based on causes of OCD. Because OCD is inherently ego-dystonic, your intrusive thoughts are going to attack whatever it is you care about most-- people with primarily contaminant symptoms might fear illness, people with primarily aggressive symptoms might fear hurting others, etc. There's no standard for what these categories are, really. Different places teach different things, and some people disregard them entirely. But it's good to know they're out there, some examples being contaminant and aggressive OCD as mentioned before, as well as pathologic doubt/completeness, religion, self-control, and superstition. There are more, less, or different categories depending on where you look, so we can just leave that there.

Now, onto the actual diagnostic criteria.

In order to be diagnosed with OCD, you need the presence of obsessions OR compulsions, OR both. So, you kind of don't need the whole set to have OCD, though it's argued that some people view "primarily obsessive" and "primarily compulsive" types of OCD as... plain old OCD. "Pure O OCD" especially has been criticized, as its based entirely on the concept of compulsions being in one's head as opposed to external, which then raises the question of whether or not we're defining mental illness by the sufferers or the observers. Regardless, this is what the current DSM says: obsessions, compulsions, or both.

They must be time-consuming (>1hr/day), cause clinically significant distress, or cause impairment in social, occupational, or other areas of functioning. So, could you be considered OCD if you're perfectly functional to the outside world but dysfunctional psychologically? Yes! Could you be considered OCD if you're mostly okay with the compulsions (often seen in people who believe their compulsions are rational responses to rational fears), but you can't function in day-to-day life? Yes! OCD is defined by how it affects you, and there are so, so many ways that it can do that.

The symptoms of OCD can't be caused by physiological effects of substance abuse or other medical conditions.

The disturbance cannot be better explained by the symptoms of another disorder (i.e. if excessive worries are better explained by an anxiety disorder, you're more likely to be diagnosed with something along the lines of GAD; if your difficulty discarding possessions is more in line with a hoarding disorders, you're more likely to be diagnosed with a hoarding disorder). One thing I would like to mention here is that this is often where the DSM breaks down when it comes to practice rather than theory. I'd like to specifically outline the example under this segment of the DSM that refers to "guilty ruminations, as in major depressive disorder". By these guidelines, would you be able to have both MDD and OCD if your OCD has mostly intrusive symptoms?

Well, yes, actually. There's a lot of discourse surrounding it, but here's the thing. Diagnosis is something meant to put you into a category so you can either seek treatment or get accommodations. For mental illnesses, physical illnesses... anything. This is it. I myself have both MDD and OCD, and part of why this is, is because there's an overlap between symptoms... but that's all it is. An overlap, borderlining comorbidity. And there are plenty of people who have similar diagnoses.

You'll see why I'm bringing this up in a second.

Let's go back to the diagnostic criteria and take it one-by-one.

Obsessions are defined by (1) and (2):

Recurrent and persistent thoughts, urges, or images that are experienced, at some time during the disturbance, as intrusive and unwanted, and that in most individuals cause marked anxiety or distress. The individual attempts to ignore or suppress such thoughts, urges, or images, or to neutralize hem with some other thought or action (i.e., by performing a compulsion).

Does Tony experience obsessions? Well, he very well could.

There used to be a criterion in the now-outdated DSM-IV that outlined obsessions could NOT be "simply excessive worries about real-life problems." But in the DSM-5, this was dropped. So, an obsession, by current standards, most certainly can be defined as an excessive worry about real-life problems.

Whether or not Tony's worry is excessive is debatable. We're all aware of Clint's sentiment in New Avengers that basically boils the team's state of being down to "we're extraordinary people, so we have extraordinary problems." Tony's worries are extraordinary, but... are they excessive?

I could go either way on this argument. Due to Tony's massive influence and his feelings of responsibility, we can all see why these worries might be considered realistic and average. But it's those feelings of responsibility that would make a better argument for "excessiveness"; he has taken the stance quite a few times that he's been "the only one who could see what needed to be done", or something akin to that, at least. It's not just that he has serious problems and he's concerned about serious solutions. It's that he feels such a sense of responsibility and guilt that every single problem on the planet happens to be a problem he's obligated to consider by his own standards, and if he doesn't consider those problems, he's an awful garbage man. Again, by his own standards.

One could also easily argue that he could fall prey to both aggressive-type obsessions and pathologic doubt-type obsessions, given that he's terrified of hurting people or causing harm unknowingly and that he's never 100% sure of himself, always "almost certain", and often looking to others (like Happy in Civil War, for example) to vent and try to half-validate himself as someone who really is doing the right thing.

These very obviously cause him distress, and one could argue that his Atlas-like anxiety with regards to keeping the world afloat is a huge factor in his mental cycle of thinking he's not doing enough, which means he's not enough, which means he deserves to die, which means he actually should die if he's not doing anything right, which means he has to try really, really hard to do things right, but he'll never do everything he needs to do, so he's not doing enough, so he's not enough, so he deserves to die.

And the alcoholism could easily come into play here, being a default coping mechanism for almost anything he'd encountered, obsessive or otherwise.

Now for compulsions.

Compulsions are defined by (1) and (2):

Repetitive behaviors (e.g., hand washing, ordering, checking) or mental acts (e.g., praying, counting, repeating words silently) that the individual feels driven to perform in response to an obsession or according to rules that must be applied rigidly. The behaviors or mental acts are aimed at preventing or reducing anxiety or distress, or preventing some dreaded event or situation; however, these behaviors or mental acts are not connected in a realistic way with what they are designed to neutralize or prevent, or are clearly excessive.

So, we're going back to the obsessions outlined earlier. One thing I neglected to mention there was what he's referred to as one of his biggest fears, and I neglected to mention it because of how it ties into potential compulsions.

He's mentioned that someone "taking over his brain" is possibly the worst thing that could happen to him, given that he is a man with incredible influence and incredible intelligence and if his mind falls into the wrong hands, it could have (and has had) disastrous consequences. We see a lot of Tony trying to protect his mind as a result, always having backups, always having alternatives, always having contingency plans. This could also be considered a response to an obsession with regards to “mental contamination”, which makes sense.

It's similar with the responsibility-induced anxiety; he made how many AIs, now? He quite literally can't let himself die. He needs to be up, awake, present, alive. He needs to continue doing The Right Thing. We see the same sorts of behaviors even when he's alive and kicking-- he's often in his lab into the late hours of the night. He canonically works multiple jobs at his company. He runs around holding babies around the world, for God's sake. He believes everything deserves to be cared for, loved, and he believes he has to be the one to love it, and so he does, taking up so much of his time and so much of his energy every single day in a desperate attempt to make sure he's done all he can.

This is a man whose every day life could be considered scheduled compulsions if you really wanted it to be, one after the other, in a never-ending cycle of behaviors that he canonically won't ever be satisfied with.

Tony certainly could have obsessions. He certainly could have compulsions. He certainly could have OCD.

It's worth it to mention that self-blame, even for the smallest little details, is extremely common in people with OCD, and... That's also a very Tony thing, isn't it?

All that to say...

Do I think he does?

Well, not... really. I mean, I don't very, very strongly believe that he doesn't. And a lot of neurodivergent people have created incredibly thorough explanations as to why a character not intended to be one way might still be that way-- not even as a headcanon, but quite literally, they just are that way. This is especially common among characters coded (intentionally or otherwise) to have things like autism and ADHD. Whether or not a character "has" something is difficult to decipher, but if you can outline all the symptoms and you can't come up with any other explanation for them, then, well... You've got a neurodivergent character on your hands.

But that's the thing. You certainly can explain Tony's feelings and decisions with a diagnosis of MDD and alcohol abuse. You can. Plenty of people don't really want to, especially with some more toxic beliefs in the mental health community that regard less stigmatized illnesses as somehow also less severe or less validating, and regards MDD as "just depression" in a way that more stigmatized illnesses aren't. 

I don't feel terribly represented in Tony as someone with OCD-- I feel represented with almost every aspect of his struggles with mental health, but I rarely ever read through comics going, "there! There's my OCD thing!" Which isn't to say that it's never happened on a subconscious level, because... I mean, illness bleeds into every aspect of you. It's terribly difficult to find where one part of you ends and the other begins when there's so much overlap. But personally, Tony having OCD isn’t something that I really consider when I read or write (which is part of why I like having Ty Stone around so much-- I can pin a bunch of shit on him that I think Tony doesn’t have, and then I get to write everything I want while still keeping things true to the way I see them).

There are other sufferers of OCD who must certainly relate to Tony, and probably exclusively go "There's my OCD thing!" while reading his comics. I can see why.

So, again.

Do I think he has OCD? Eh. Not really my thing. But I think canon does what canon does, mental illnesses have plenty of overlap, and he meets the criteria enough that if you were to say he had both MDD and OCD, I wouldn't feel any reason to argue, especially if you’re saying it to better relate to him.

#cassks #suicide tw #sort of #ocd #is there a tag that means 'this talks about ocd but in a way that might trigger ocd' #because if there is. please tell me #i have thought many times that it would be cool to have a tag like this at some point #i'm very tired if there are any tags you want here just let me know

[basicsofislam]

ISLAM 101: Muslim Culture and Character: Reflections (Tafakkur): Beauty and the Beautiful

Beauty elevates our hearts, awakens our souls with sweet excitement and appreciation, and then becomes the esthetic of our inner self. This hard-to-describe phenomenon, this sense that is present in our most joyous moments, is beauty. Even though this definition might seem too narrow, it is one interpretation. There have been elaborate interpretations on the notion of beauty from the point of view of esthetics. The focus now shifts on the relation of beauty with existence, nature, and human beings, or even beyond nature.

The meanings of beauty need to be redefined all together in order to be properly appreciated. Even though this has been done many times by masters of esthetics, we will try to explain our understanding of beauty in the context of our philosophy and belief, where every beautiful object is a mirror image or a reflection of Divine Beauty. Furthermore, anything that incites appreciation, love, and astonishment is seen as a reflection of Divine Beauty. Therefore, when our hearts are filled with these everlasting reflections, we are always able to perceive ourselves within beauty.

Through such a perspective, we conceive of even seemingly sad things, like death and decay, as being the essence of the most amazing harmonies, thus feeling ourselves to be among infinite beauty. In this way, we never feel upset or discouraged by the fading of our attachments. On the contrary, we experience the outward beauty of faith, breathe in the motivating air of hope, strive to do righteous deeds in the hope that we will fulfill our spiritual desires, seek sincerity in every deed, struggle to be tolerant, merciful, and constructive in all our behavior, and we strive to accept those deeds done for the sake of God as being the best moments of our lives. For us, faith becomes the light that illuminates our horizons, and a source of hope for our expectations. Only through faith can the chaos of nothingness be overcome. Only through faith can we reach the happiness that spreads from our hearts to the infinite Paradise. Through its vastness and power, faith becomes beautiful. Through faith one can find the Divine Unity, turn toward the Truth, and reach worldly and heavenly bliss, being released from all worries.

These are all the beauties within beauty that can be enjoyed through faith in God. The universe, events, objects, and human intellect that can evaluate these are all beautiful in that they help us find faith. Likewise, all righteous acts that stem from faith, good morals, and the desire to reach real faith and progress in the spiritual ranks of love and knowledge of God are also beautiful. Even acts of worship, or calamities that strike us, or sins that we find hard to resist, all of which may seem like hardship from the outside, represent beauty if we adopt the right attitude toward them. Real beauty belongs to God. He necessitates perfection, which is unique to Him alone. All of existence is a different mirror of God, reflecting His beauty as much as its potential allows. Stars sing of the beauty of light every night, they wink at us and remind us of Him through their unbelievable beauty. Moonlight touches the hearts with its softness and beauty and the sun spreads its mercy on each and every thing without distinction. It pours down its light and colors all day long, and sets, giving us another marvelous scene. The seas rise and fall through the tides, and take care of millions of living beings, like a merciful mother. Mountains, with a sheer size that makes our hearts pound, seem to be whispering something to the skies, playing along with the clouds. Mountains invite the rains, and stop the oceans with their proud look, yet they become mere earth. All the voices from the birds, sheep, forests, and mountains make up such a harmonious song, feeding our souls with the most peaceful rhythms. Yes, everything from the smiling skies to the thousands of glories of the Earth is so beautiful that they make us aware of the beauty of Heaven and we simply say “it just could not have been more beautiful!” And human beings themselves seem to be the most beautiful among all this beauty. With our outward looks, our inner world of senses, thoughts, and faith, we are like a sample, a replica of the universe. It is therefore apparent that humans have been created as a key to solve the riddle of creation. This is the way we should perceive beauty, seeing it only as a tool to interpret the real meaning of existence. In this enormous arena of beauty, everything can be seen as a point referring to the Creator. If, with our pure intentions and the right perspective, we can perceive existence as a mirror reflecting the beauty of The Beautiful, we can experience spiritual joy.

In fact, it should not be difficult to be aware of this. Sometimes, only a beautifully designed city or a place of worship is enough to make us enjoy this holy pleasure. Sometimes, a nice poem, a legend, a well-told story, or music that is meant to touch our human sensibilities, that wafts harmony into our soul, can draw us to this beauty, and make us hear the beauty of some other abode. However, the continuity of the joy that these spiritual pleasures give us and the avoidance of suffering depends on relating this worldly beauty to its real Owner. Otherwise, all will end at the most unexpected moment. The Sun will set and the Moon will disappear as our soul sinks into the darkness. It is impossible for souls in decline to appreciate and enjoy beauty. Since every beauty of this world fades away and leaves us one day, for our soul not to despair and to be able to enjoy the real and infinite beauty, it is necessary to establish the true Owner and Originator of the beauty we observe. A poet, relating this concept to a Qur’anic verse said: “Even faces as beautiful as the Sun set in the end. Thus I love not the temporary ones, but the infinite beauty that does not fade away.” Rumi illustrates the same point in the following verses: “My God, after seeing You, knowing You, I do not see the beauty of this world anymore …”

Yes, material beauty is just a means to acknowledge the Most Beautiful. Getting stuck at the “means” and not realizing the ultimate goal of this beauty, which shows us the real Beauty of God, is nothing more than being blind to the real goal, the real Truth. The Creator has placed all sorts of beauty and signs along the way so that we will not be blinded; however, for souls that have not reached this realization and which lack the faithful perspective, this beauty is nothing but a source of mischief, or means leading them to sin. But for those who can think clearly, even the love for the beautifully created is only the shade of the shade of the shade of the Beauty of the Beauty of God. As long as we are able to distinguish between the Real Source of Beauty and its reflection, the love we feel for the created is harmless. In this sense we can accept the created as beautiful.

Sometimes, we are aware of the innermost feelings in our souls which sense only the abstract beauty that fills our hearts with God’s love alone. At these moments, when beauty and love become intertwined, the soul, with its unique ability to see, feel, and hear, senses the Real Source in everything that it meets. Through its heavenly bestowed mechanisms, our soul perceives the essence of everything and attributes this to its real owner. It is the lack of this mechanism that renders the materialists and the naturalists short-sighted; they only observe the outer beauty of things, and fall short of perceiving the spiritual and infinite horizons. However, all beauty exists to take us to the Heavens, to the Godly realms.

Every human being displays themselves, their feelings, and their abilities in their works. This means that they are presenting something for others who will observe and perceive through the prism of their insight. God presents His works embellished with color, meaning, and content in order to make Himself known and loved for those seeking Him. We are sent to this world with the responsibility then, to affect and reshape things with His permission, to reflect our understanding, but also to be attentive to the true purpose and meaning of the creation of things. The universe and the happenings in it are thus perfect examples to imitate. However, no matter how perfect the example is, everyone will draw and interpret objects according to their abilities. Charles Lalo, commenting on esthetics once said: “The magnificent scene taking place at the time of sunset will remind a farmer of the rather unesthetic thought of dinner; the physicist, not of beauty or ugliness, but of rightness or wrongness of the analysis of a matter. Thus, the sunset is beautiful only for those who are aware of beauty.” Therefore, only those who see with God and hear with God can appreciate the beauty that spreads throughout existence as their senses are tuned to the spiritual realms.

A heart that beats with God’s love and which desires to meet Him, will be aware of many signs from God along the way. Such a heart will feel the excitement of meeting Him, as it reads the messages from the Moon, the sunset, the twinkling stars, colorful nature, the blowing of the wind, the snow… And such a heart would utter, in the words of one who has reached unity of sight and heart, “Everyone from everywhere is coming to watch Your beauty. From beneath and from above, every being is declaring You, displaying the reflections of Your beauty.” This heart looks at nature and objects, but sees the Unseen spiritual realms. This is the point of love and connection with God.

#allah #god #islam #muslim #quran #revert #convert #convert islam #revert islam #reverthelp #revert help #revert help team #help #islamhelp #converthelp #prayer #salah #muslimah #religion #mohammad #new muslim #new revert #new convert #how to convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam #reminder #pray #dua #hijab

[a-secondhand-sorrow]

dream about that casual touch

just some nice Astrid/McAfee fluff to calm down your Sunday.

read on ao3

McAfee wasn’t ready to listen to James and Alice chatter (or argue) on. It was too early for that. She’d woken up before eight for three years straight without a single exception at Columbia, and she thought she was ambitious and ready enough that she wanted to keep on her streak of four hours of sleep a night into her working life. But the longer she worked with Payton’s campaign, the more she longed for a few hours of silence and calm without the constant debates around which subway station more voters could be swayed in.

If Payton and Skye would just return to the NYU dorm room where they were all awaiting their return from whatever convoluted errand the two of them were running, at least the conversation would be productive. But as it was, James and Alice had decided to rehash the ad campaign that McAfee had been up until three redesigning the night before. She and Astrid met eyes and sighed right as the two began discussing the specifics of the ad placements. McAfee slid down the wall she was leaning against, always too dramatic to ever just sit down on a chair or a bed in her impeccably coordinated pantsuits, and silently gave herself permission to mentally check out of the conversation. She’d designed the campaign, anyway; they could figure it out from there.

She folded her legs under herself, pulling her phone out from an inner pocket of her blazer. She considered her options, choosing to open up Instagram. She rarely used her personal account, as she spent most of her social media time managing Payton’s image and campaign, but opening it made her feel almost odd. It always felt so polished and professional, much as she tried to be herself, but she didn’t trust herself much with her own account. Her only two posts were with her and her dog from high school and a photo with her parents at Columbia graduation. She was always afraid she’d post the wrong thing, but scrolling through other’s posts couldn’t do much damage.

Rather unceremoniously, Astrid threw herself down onto the ground next to her. McAfee nearly dropped her phone from the suddenness of it, her thumb still poised over Payton’s newest photo with his mother, ready to double click. Suddenly she couldn’t think of anything else besides the place where Astrid’s shoulder pushed against her upper arm, and the little bit of blond hair that had flown loose from her ponytail and now was sticking to her own shoulder, or the slight heat coming from Astrid’s ankle as it strayed closer to hers, and the way something in her throat seemed to constrict as Astrid caught her eye and the corners of her mouth quirked up, uncharacteristically sweet.

McAfee tried to smile back without forcing that feeling in her throat to bubble up any more before looking away, back to her phone. James and Alice’s conversation presented itself to her in the form of a distraction (it was a sad day when that became the distraction) while her thumb continued its scrolling. Another good post of a good, round, fluffy dog.

“-posters may be more effective, but only along the student-heavy routes-”

“Which are those? Sure, there’s the designated ‘student’ ones, but since you’re actually a student-”

Another book promo for a comic artist she’d once found mildly amusing.

“It’s not quite that clear-cut, Alice, in a city with this many students. They all have vastly different routes and places where they’re commuting to.”

Astrid didn’t seem to mind that her stray hairs were now resting on McAfee’s shoulder; in fact, she seemed like she wanted her head to follow suit with the hairs and drop onto McAfee’s shoulder.

Which it did, a moment later.

Oh no.

In some futile attempt to stop her body from doing its normal human contact initiated, engage awkward tensing of entire body so as not to disturb the other person dear Lord do not move a single centimeter routine, McAfee attempted to keep her thumb moving, scrolling, going. Past the rows of aesthetic note-taking sets, high school acquaintances’ senior college photos, a few people from her dorm at Columbia, all the way past something that might have been a teaser for a new season of a Netflix show she’d watched in one sitting over the summer.

“I hated that show,” Astrid said offhandedly, angling her head to yawn into McAfee’s shoulder.

Truthfully, she was not offended that anyone wouldn’t like the show, but her brain was malfunctioning with the surprisingly cool feel of Astrid on her shoulder, and besides, as McAfee Westbrook, she had an image to uphold as an obnoxiously opinionated person. Some part of her brain registered Alice refer to her experience in the campaign office, but she ignored it in favor of blurting out a “how could you not like it?”

Astrid shrugged, a gesture that McAfee felt rather than saw. “I don’t know. It’s just, like, kids doing shit with their minds. We all do shit with our minds, it’s just not special.”

McAfee shook her head. “Of course you would belittle superpowers to being ‘not special.’”

The pressure against her shoulder changed at that and Astrid looked up towards McAfee. Their faces were closer together than she could ever recall them being. “Well, yeah, they’re not real, silly.”

For some reason, the word silly coming out of Astrid Sloane’s mouth like that when their mouths were only (maybe) six inches apart was too much for McAfee’s brain to handle. She started laughing before she could put a cap on the thought, her head turning away from Astrid. A moment later, Astrid’s giggles mingled with hers, warm and bright and deeper than she would have expected. She was afraid to look at Astrid’s face for fear of what she might feel, but she could feel Astrid’s shoulder shake against hers, and that was enough.

When their laughter died off, Astrid, without even looking at McAfee’s face, dropped her head to the place where McAfee’s thigh and knee met in an uncoordinated but endearingly fluid movement. Almost without thinking, McAfee dropped her hand that wasn’t holding her now-dark phone to Astrid’s hair. It was newly short, and she froze as soon as her fingertips brush the tips of her blond hair. She was glad Astrid couldn’t see her since she was sure that all the blood that had previously been in her brain and allowing her to function as a human being had rushed to her cheeks. She withdrew her hand, but Astrid grabbed her wrist before she fully could and guided it back to her hair. Hesitantly, McAfee twined her fingers through Astrid’s hair, watching the way her eyes flickered shut with a warming feeling in her chest.

The ends of her hair felt smooth and soft under her fingertips, and she allowed herself to smile. Even though her leg was starting to fall asleep, she didn’t dare move when Astrid looked so calm and relaxed in her presence. Almost every other time, she felt an edge of something sharp and bitter and unrelenting in Astrid’s actions; with a history as weird as theirs was, it seemed inevitable. But this was a different type of Astrid. This wasn’t the girl who had picked up a stupid campaign she didn’t even care about to spite someone she didn’t know that well. This was someone who had hardened in order to learn how to live and had softened to learn how to be around other people. She seemed indescribably gentle and breakable when she was close to sleep in McAfee’s lap, but she much preferred this new Astrid to the cutthroat but unimpassioned one of high school. Her heart was in her throat, but her hand continued its pattern of stroking through her hair.

She heard someone clear their throat across the room. McAfee tore her eyes up and away from the corner of Astrid’s jaw, her eyes locking with James’ automatically. Out of her periphery, she saw Alice quickly look away from her and Astrid and back at her phone unconvincingly, her lipstick-lined mouth curving into a smile. James cocked his head to one side, eyebrows raised. They’d known each other so long that McAfee could read his expression easily. She channeled every bit of intimidation she could (which was quite a lot) into a single raised eyebrow, mimicking his posture. He smirked at her, and she felt even more heat flare into her cheeks but ignored it for pride’s sake. James had the decency to finally turn his head away, but she knew the damage was already done.

She didn’t really care, however. The feeling in her chest was large and expansive enough that she didn’t think even James’ teasing could ruin her mood.

In a sudden burst of confidence, McAfee reached for Astrid’s hand with her free hand. Astrid handed it over willingly, and she rested their now-entwined fingers on her other knee. Her heart nudged the base of her throat at all of their contact. Even though it was just their hands, their entwined fingers felt more intimate to her than any real physical experiences she’d had with any other girls. She was all too aware of James and Alice’s presences before, but with Astrid’s palm against hers and her thumb tracing invisible patterns over her knuckles, the room narrowed until her world was just a golden and white and brown blur, only the detail of Astrid’s eyelashes and her sparse freckles holding any kind of sharp quality to them. She was sure she’d be able to see them when she closed her eyes, and she did. They were all she could see. She tilted her head backward and let it rest against the wall, content to lie there with Astrid’s head on one knee and their hands on her other.

Of course, Payton and Skye returned soon after - she wasn’t exactly sure when, as her sense of time was never great - and Astrid forced herself up and away from McAfee, stretching and yawning before finally standing up. But she winked quickly in McAfee’s direction, and she couldn’t stop smiling as Payton directed the conversation somewhere campaign-related. Later, at dinner, when the two sat next to each other, she’d feel Astrid’s foot tap hers, and she’d tap Astrid’s back. And when the rest of their group huddled around Skye’s phone on the walk back home, Astrid would reach over and grab McAfee’s hand again with her smaller one.

Under the faded sky, Astrid would smile and tug McAfee back, sparing one glance towards their friends. McAfee would think James saw them leave, but he’d just smile and turn his attention back to the group, claiming ignorance of their missing friend’s whereabouts when questioned. They’d stop under the relative privacy of a tree, away from the normal traffic flow.

“Oh, finally. We can’t hear them talking,” Astrid would say, eyes gleaming in the half-light. New York was never dark, but McAfee was particularly partial to the nighttime anyway. Or maybe she would simply be drawn to the way that Astrid looked, her short hair seeming to soak up the light and her blue eyes bright in contrast to the dark circles under her eyes. She had never noticed before, but in that light, she would see the flecks of amber and green that buried themselves deep in her eyes, and she’d look at Astrid’s lips, pursed against laughter, and the gentle way Astrid’s thumb rubbed against the back of her hand, and she’d look back up at Astrid’s face.

“Thank God,” she said finally.

Before she could even think about it, she would kiss her, and Astrid would kiss her back, soft at first, exploring, hesitant. It’d transform into something deeper and imploring, something a little more desperate, something that was rushing out of them all at once. Astrid’s other hand would rope around her neck to pull her even closer and her own hand would find its way into Astrid’s short, soft hair. Their bodies would fit flush together, and as the cool air fell on their cheeks, they’d have no other thoughts than that moment. Astrid’s lips drove away any doubts McAfee had had before, and she would savor the overwhelming waves of affection she felt, pulling back for the barest breaths between kisses before diving back in headfirst.

Eventually, they would succumb to laughter that built between kisses, laughing close to each other as they had that morning. Her heart and chest ached from the force of all of it, the laughing and the kiss. And as Astrid’s giggles finally faded off, she would press a kiss to her cheek, feeling a bit lightheaded with affection. They’d still be pulled close together so that it was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended, but neither cared, simply too wrapped up in their shared bubble of joy to notice anything else.

(Even James and Alice walking up just behind them, with Alice groaning and slipping James five dollars before both retreated again, bickering good-naturedly to each other.)

Astrid would shake her head and withdraw her arm from around McAfee’s shoulders, choosing to instead cup her cheek with one hand. She’ll smile again and press one last kiss to McAfee’s lips, soft and radiant and happy. And McAfee would return the smile and the kiss and the happiness. She’d probably give her anything she could, anything she ever wanted, just to see that smile again, just to feel her lips on hers.

#the politician #the politician netflix #the politician fanfiction #mcafee westbrook #astrid sloan #mcafee/astrid #mine #my fanfiction

[lou-is-creative]

Unpredictable (pt 8)

ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ: 6 Underground

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: Four/Billy // Eight/???

ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ: Four/Billy x male!Oc

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 7: Other plans

ꜱᴏɴɢ:  Death of me - SAINT PHNX

𝔹𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤, 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤. 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥!

AN: Pic isn’t mine, sorry this took so long, have fun!!

TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!!!! VIOLENCE !!!!!!!!!!!!

Eight had stopped his car in front of a small bridge. He and the others observed the scenery quietly.

Six security men were eying the car suspiciously, while holding their guns a little tighter. One of them, who seemed to be a little bit lost and unsure, was pushed forward to do a check up.

The ghost opened his window, putting on a slightly frightened face to maintain his image.

"Hello?"

He greeted the stranger and the other looked quite happy to not be the only one who didn't quite know what was going on.

"Who are you and what do you want? This bridge is private property."

"Uhhhh I am.. Jacob, I want to visit Amanda... But I guess I'm at the wrong address?"

The man in front of him started to relax a bit.

"Oh okay, you're Jacob. Well that is something different. We were told that you'd come here. Not exactly that you'd come with such a cool car, but we knew you'd come"

Eight smiled, genuinely happy he found someone else who liked his car. Five groaned.

"You like it? It's brand new."

"It looks very nice. And- oh, you have a watch in the same colour?"

The guy asked and the proud owner of the matching watch on his wrist looked at it, smiling cheekily.

"I do, yeah. Thought it looked great together."

Now even the guy with the gun started to look rather interested than business like.

"It does, so what model is it exactly?"

He let his gun sink and eventually even put it away to take a better look at the interior design of said car.

"Mercedes C-class, AMG of course. Engine too. Maybe I can show you later, if we have some time left"

The boy in the car let the guy look, completely aware of what he was doing, as he heard a familiar voice speaking. Familiar, but not necessarily liked.

"Eight stop talking about your fucking car, no one cares."

Not letting anyone see how pissed he was, the newest member of the group just smiled it off.

"You'd do that? It would be awesome."

"Of course, but only if I have the time. Could be that I gotta rush back, if you understand. But it would be nice for next time!"

He looked at his watch shortly.

"God, I really have to go, can I pass? I swear we're gonna talk again after all of this but I really have to leave."

Eight raised his hand to say good-bye and the security man stepped aside, giving his colleagues a sign to let him pass.

"By the way..."

Eight started his engine and looked at the security man one last time, smiling softly.

"Keep that up, you're doing a good job. I was shit scared to be honest."

And the smile he got back was the most sincere the man with the gun could offer. A quiet 'thank you' left his mouth before Eight passed the bridge. It was one of his talents to know exactly what a person needed to hear.

"Thank god you're finally done."

He heard Five groan and his hands immediately clenched around the steering wheel.

"Okay, that's enough. I know exactly how to do my job and I don't need your comments. So watch your mouth and focus on your own task."

It got very quiet for a moment in the room in which all the other ghosts were in. Everyone was holding their breath.

With Eights natural born gift, to know exactly what others wanted to hear, it wasn't very hard to determine ones weak spot. It does sound like something very practical, something good even, but paired with his lack of impulse control, it did more damage than anything else.

Just like it did at this exact moment. He started a war.

"Listen here, you little brat. If you knew how to do your job, I wouldn't have to say anything."

Five fired back and Four got tensed. He knew exactly how much of a bad idea it was to refer to Eight as little.

"Did you just call me little brat?"

"Are you deaf?"

"Oh no, my ears work very well I just figured you might be a little smarter than that. But seems like I was wrong."

"My mother told me to always tell the truth. And what are you besides an annoying little boy with a weird obsession with his car?"

"I think you need a snickers. You're being a bitch."

Before Five could say anything, One interfered.

"Concentrate on the mission, Eight. You can continue your quarrel later."

"She started it."

Eight stated.

"God how old are you two, twelve?"

Seven interfered and Five snapped once more.

"He is."

"Oh don't confuse your mental age with mine, honey."

"SHUT IT. Both of you."

The ghosts turned around. Four, who was sitting in the very back of the room, couldn't hold it anymore. He hated fights. They were stupid and totally unnecessary. And they also reminded him a lot of the things that happened in the past. He didn't need to see people fighting. Again.

Silence spread and Eight passed the second security stage. He pulled his car over to the parking spot he was guided to and stopped the engine before smoothly getting out of his car.  He didn't need to turn around to know that his girlfriend would rush over to him and nearly suffocate him with her hug. But he just chuckled lowly and turned to wrap his arms around the petite girl, pulling her close.

"I'm so happy to see you again."

He whispered, placing a gentle kiss on top of her head before hugging her even closer. She eventually let go and looked at him with shining eyes.

"Me too. God I'm so glad my dad took interest in the car you drive. Or else he wouldn't have invited you. He's obsessed with Mercedes, you know? So he wanted to see your car."

Eight hid his grin well and smiled instead before he laughed nervously, scratching his neck.

"Well I am very glad he has such a great taste in cars. And that I chose this one."

His eyes lingered on her slim figure.

"Is it just me or did you get even more beautiful?"

Amanda grinned a little and hit his shoulder.

"You're unbelievable."

She giggled as she checked him out from head to toe.

"You look decent. Like a guy my father would accept."

Eight chuckled softly and shook his head before he clapped his hands once.

"Great, it was the look I was going for. So, where do we go now? And should I be afraid? I mean after the two security check ups..."

"No, that's just routine, don't worry! Oh and, we should go inside before he thinks that you're late. That would be unfortunate. Come with me."

The blonde girl grabbed Eights hand and pulled him along. She was excited, he could tell. And so could the other ghosts.

Watching a person who was at the brink of falling in love was truly amazing. It was their energy, their smile, their way to express themselves which never failed to make others jealous. And so did Amanda.

She left an impression. Two and Three intertwined their fingers, Five glanced at Four and he couldn't help but smile back.

Maybe it was fate. Maybe all of this was supposed to happen. But no one would ever question Amandas role in this.

Eight, who now found himself in foyer of the mansion turned around a little, his eyes widened and his mouth opened a little.

"Wow it looks nice in here."

Amanda shrugged slightly as she looked around.

"It's good for a prison."

Eight turned to her and raised a brow.

"I mean, I'm locked up. My father will not let me go anywhere more than once a week."

"Are you in danger? Because that would explain the armed guys at the bridge."

"They aren't just at the bridge. They are literally everywhere. Well, not completely everywhere. I've convinced him to send them away from my rooms."

She told him proudly and Eight nodded shortly.

"So, will you show me your rooms later? I bet they look pretty."

"I think you're being a little too fast, young man."

Eight looked up and there, at the upper end of the stairs he stood. Jim Wright. Father of Amanda Wright, subject of this whole mission.

"That is why I used the term later, Sir."

Eight grinned a little as he faced the man who was now walking down the stairs to greet the two of them.

"My name is Jim Wright, or Mr. Wright for you. I'm Amandas father."

Eight shook the other mans hand and looked at him with a strong gaze.

"It's an honour to meet you, Sir. My name is Jacob."

"Strong handshake, I like that."

Mr. Wright looked at him until the boy gave in. The man then took his hand away and eyed the boy.

"I thought you'd be taller."

Eight bit back a growl and although he heard Five laugh, he didn't say anything to it.

"Well, I may not be tall, but height is no indicator for ones intelligence or future. And that's what really matters."

"Well said, well said. So, Jacob, what are your plans for the future?"

"Get a proper job, buy a house, maybe found a family, the usual stuff, Sir."

Again, he was eyed suspiciously but he didn't mind.

"And what would that proper job be?"

"Dad can't we talk about this while having lunch? I bet Jacob is hungry."

Amanda spoke up, being kind of annoyed by her father who just sighed and gave in.

The three of them walked upstairs and Eight grabbed her hand before he faced her shortly. The way she smiled told him more than a thousand words ever would.

She was falling for him. For the way he looked at her, the way he caressed her hand in his, the way he spoke to her with words so sweet.

But she didn't know him. She didn't know the man that held her hand. She didn't know the eyes that lingered on her. She didn't know the mouth that voiced all the sweet words she was longing to hear.

Because it was his decision what she saw. It was his decision to hide the man he really was. The boy that was devoured by anger and the desire for revenge. The person no one saw because it was no one anyone would want to see.

Still, there was good inside this mess. Even though, within the chaos of his being, he sometimes doubted that it was still there. Because he couldn't see it, he couldn't find it. But when he saw people laugh because of him, or smile, he knew it was still inside of him. A part of him. Although he would never see that it was bigger than the wish for revenge, the anger and despair. There was one person who would show him.

While Eight was completely into the mission, the other ghosts were focussing on other things. One, Five and Two had an eye on their youngest ghost while Three, Four and Seven were in the middle of a heated card game while drinking beer.

"Okay so, you think you're good, huh? Just because you have one card left?"

Seven asked before separating the cards in his hands in three different parts and placing them on the table.

"King, ace, one, two."

He stated and continued.

"Three queens."

Seven placed the next three cards on the table and Four and Three looked at him with a death glare. But that would never stop Seven from placing the cards he had left on his hand on the table before putting one of them aside.

"And seven, six and five. I won."

His grin was, again, bigger and wider than anything else.

"Oh come on, Seven you're cheating again."

Four complained, throwing the one card he had left on the table. Like a child who didn't get what it wanted for Christmas.

"In the job I used to do, cheaters were shot in the hand."

Three said and played with his gun while looking at Seven.

"No one gets shot in the hand in here, for fucks sake. What are we, a group of children?"

One interfered and Three placed his gun aside. Close enough to reach, of course, while he focussed on Seven.

"I didn't cheat. Not this time!"

"Of course you did! Wanker."

Four said and grabbed the deck before mixing it again.

"Why don't you believe me? I really didn't cheat this round!"

Seven defended himself and watched the blonde place the cards on the table again.

"That's why playing with you is no fun."

"He is right. Maybe we should play with the new kid instead."

Three said and Four nodded.

"Well, I think Four and the new kid are playing their very own games, Three."

Seven joked and the skywalker raised a brow.

"What do you mean?"

He asked and Three looked just as confused as Four.

"Oh, don't you play that little game where you test each other’s boundaries?"

While Sevens grin grew bigger, Fours cheeks heated up.

He was just about to say something, but he then paid attention to One.

"Eight don't do anything stupid now."

The voice of their leader sounded so serious, that even the three guys in the back were now completely concentrated on the monitors. They saw a room with a huge desk and various golden decorations. And they heard a door close and an exchanging of words.

"So, Sir, you wanted to talk to me alone, right?"

The tall man turned around and looked at the boy in front of him. He looked small and a little bit frightened.

"Yes I did."

"Good, because the two huge security guards make me really nervous."

Mr. Wright laughed a little and shook his head.

"They won't say anything, they will just stand there."

Eight turned around and looked at them in concern before he faced the father of his girlfriend again.

"But you said alone, not with two big guys waiting to strangle me. I think the strict father of the beautiful girl I am dating is frightening enough. Your whole person is enough authority to be scared."

And again, the young boy did know exactly what it was the man in front of him wanted to hear. All he needed to do was patting the guys ego. And the other gladly ate what Eight fed him.

"Well, I guess you are right. Sasha, Drake, you can take a break. Eat something or... Whatever."

The two big men who were covering the door walked out, keeping their faces straight.

Eight didn't pay much attention to them anymore, while the man made the mistake to turn his head towards the door.

It was already too late as he faced the boy in front of him again. His fate had already been sealed.

Eight, who took the opportunity to ram his knee in the others stomach and push him down on his knees, had now gotten out the small knife he had.

"One scream for help and your daughter will die."

He whispered as he gave the back of the man a strong kick so he'd face the ground, not being fast enough to catch himself with his hands.

"Eight ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND????"

One asked, voice as tensed as the speaker himself. The other ghosts were quiet. What on earth was the boy doing there?

"I assume you know what I need, and I suggest you give me the information I came for if you don't want to die."

If the guy wouldn't have been so afraid at this moment, all of that wouldn't have worked in the first place. But he was.

Eight knew enough to know it would be working. One had told him plenty of things and the way the man behaved only confirmed his assumptions.

He was a coward. Scared to die, no willpower, he was nothing. A no one. Someone who was intelligent enough to earn a lot of money but needed a sense in life to feel good. He needed to be part of something big to have at least a glimpse of power to him. Losing power, losing his grip was something the man was afraid of. But there was one thing he was more frightened of. Death. To lose his home, his daughter, his life.

And through that, Eight knew that thinking of the possibility to die scared him more than anything else.

"Give me the coordinates. Now."

"I- I don't have them!"

"Wrong answer."

Eight hummed and kicked the mans side. He whined in pain.

"Shh, don't be a pussy, you don't want your daughter to get hurt, don't you?"

"Don't- don't hurt her..."

"Start talking and I'll take it into consideration."

"The address is saved on my computer."

"Sounds good, why don't you go get it for me, hm?"

Eight grabbed the man by his shirt and pulled him up.

"Hands behind your head. Keep them where I can see them. Good."

He then led him to the computer and forced him to sit down on the chair before placing the beautiful blue knife on his throat.

"One try to make a noise and I will end your life right away."

The gulp of his victim was audible as he typed the password with shaking hands and searched for the address.

As soon as it was visible, One grabbed his smartphone and searched for the address via google street view.

"Thank god for technology."

He mumbled and took a closer look at the pictures he found. He was looking for one specific sign, a logo, that would confirm that it was the right information. And he wasn't left disappointed. The moment One found what he had been looking for, he turned to face the monitor.

"It's the right address, now get the fuck out of there so I can kick your ass for being such an idiot."

One advised and Eight slit the throat of the man with one swift motion, careful not to dirty himself.

"Shh, lie down, there you go."

The boy waited for his victim to give in to his fate and laid down his head on the table. It looked like he was asleep.

Satisfied with his work, he cleaned his knife on the black chair before he hid it under his dress shirt again.

He made his way to the door, ready to leave the place, as he heard footsteps approaching. The door he was hiding behind was opened and someone walked in.

Eights heart wasn't the only one that stopped for a mere second.

#6 underground #6 underground fic #six underground #six underground fanfic #six underground fanfiction #six underground four #6 underground 4 #ben hardy #ben hardy x oc #ben hardy x male oc #four/billy #four x eight #four x male oc #four x oc #gay fanfiction #Gay Fiction #gay #because we need more gay fanfiction #Male oc #male oc x character #four x male #oc #oc fanfiction #own fan fiction #own character #slow burn #friends to lovers #unpredictable series #what is it with five and eight #do they hate each other or what

[tilting-at-windmills]

"I know just how you feel--I've felt just the same way when that happened to me, and it really hurt. You should be able to say how you feel even if others don't always necessarily think it's appropriate--as long as it's truly from the heart. You should never go against what your personal moral compass says, even if that goes against the commonly accepted morality of all of your close family and friends and anyone you respect. I don't want to know what you should feel--I want to know what you do feel." The INFP's dominant Fi is an introverted judgment (Ji) function, meaning the top priority for INFPs is full, deep, robust, profound definition of precisely what values the user finds instrumental to the essence of his personal identity and that which he finds to be fundamentally "good" or "bad" at its root core. But it's more than just good or bad; on a grander scale, the INFP is concerned with the very essence of Good and Evil, Meaningful and Not Meaningful, Sacred and Not Sacred. This duality becomes central to the moral philosophy of many Fi dominant types. Fi users believe there is a definite moral order to the universe (meaning that it is inescapably true that some things and some ideas are inherently more valuable, more virtuous, and more worthy of positive evaluation than others), and that the only way we may catch a glimpse of this sacred ideal is by allowing ourselves complete and total connection and understanding with our emotional responses and the way they reflect that which upholds the internal "essence" of moral goodness as we understand it subjectively and individually. One INFP friend calls it "The uh oh feeling" when his Fi (bolstered by Si) somehow "senses" almost immediately that a new person is up to no good. For Fi, standardizing ethics collectively misses the point by blunting the individual's unique identity and influence so much that the real significance is lost. Morality for Fi is not something that anyone else can tell you how to approach: it's something you just have to look inside and feel for yourself. Morality is too complex and nuanced, reasons Fi, to be marginalized by approaching it from a collective standpoint. It's too dependent upon the essence of the individual and his personal impressions, too subject to that individual's experiences and understanding to even be approached (or worse, insisted upon) by anyone else. As soon as you try to design moral philosophy that works the same way for more than one person, you've ruined its inherently individualistic nature.

INFPs often have a distinct habit of letting resentment and negativity build up toward someone until they're so incredibly upset that they can't help exploding into a Te-rundown of precisely everything you are doing wrong and why it's simply not acceptable in moral terms they can justify (Fi.) At least two INFP friends have told me that when they focus on explaining and resolving their grievances routinely and calmly before they have time to bottle up and fester into huge issues, they find themselves much more able to maintain the deep one-on-one connections they invariably must form with others, and to reach even greater personal understanding and empathy as a result. Auxiliary: Extroverted iNtuition (Ne) As an auxiliary function, Ne grants INFPs both an awareness of and concern for how others perceive them, and the ability to explore, create, experiment, and play with new combinations and possibilities for different approaches and ways to change and recreate what they see around them, with an eye on how these exploratory outings will affect the perceptions and emotional states of others. This is a crucial factor in the INFP's ability to apply Fi's uniquely individualistic values to an externally observable context in a way that both captures the attention and admiration of others and allows him to translate his inner passions into forms that others can understand, identify with, and appreciate. The INFP needs Ne in order to spread the message of his ideals to an audience that will listen: Ne is the bridge by which Fi's vision can be forged into the creations that serve as external representations of the INFP's identity. "No need for greed or hunger / A brotherhood of man / Imagine all the people / Sharing all the world." --John Lennon, "Imagine" Ne often ends up expressing itself through artistic and creative endeavors: This penchant for interpreting and rearranging patterns of external phenomena frequently results in a particular knack for manipulation of language and its ability to say just the right thing to convey precisely the value or feeling the INFP wants to express, in a way that makes that feeling real for others. Indeed, INFPs are quite often found among novelists, musicians, graphic artists, screen writers, and all other forms of widely recognized creative expression by which the purity of their internal worlds (Fi) can be expressed externally (Ne). At their best, INFPs are principled, idealistic, playful, creative, and deeply empathetic. Without the aid of auxiliary Ne, the INFP may become frustrated at the conflict between her intense desire for self-expression and her inability to translate the ideals she strives to live by into a medium that will touch the souls of others in the same way they define the meaning and purpose of her own life. INFPs, because they show the outer world their flexible Ne side more readily, will appear much more open and accepting on the surface, and indeed they will remain that way as long as their interactions with you remain relaxed and enjoyable and do not require getting into serious ethical analysis or put them in any uncomfortable situations which might make them feel morally conflicted. They will appear flexible now (Ne), and steadfast later (Fi). They are generally open to all sorts of new experiences and connections between different experiences--they love to get at the heart of the people's true character by finding and comparing the ways in which different individuals have different unique "flavors", each offering its own special kind of meaning, and they love to observe the connections between different individuals in this regard. They may come off as rather reserved at first, but it doesn't take too long before they will at least open up Ne to you and relate to you on a surface level--this usually happens in terms of discussion about some common interest, such as art, philosophy, music, etc...anything that will seem interesting and noteworthy to the collective of people the INFP deems worthy. Inside, however, they are far more rigid and unyielding in terms of the extraordinarily high ethical standards they place on themselves and anyone they consider close enough to be a trusted friend. When you become close to an INFP, you are accepting a responsibility to uphold the high personal standards that define the INFP's entire self-image and existential philosophy. INFPs will offer only the very best ethical treatment of their friends and loved ones, and they expect no less in return--if you cannot fulfill this sacred bond to the same level they hold themselves to, you should not commit to such a close relationship in the first place. Tertiary: Introverted Sensation (Si) For INFPs, the tertiary relief function Si is consulted in order to provide them quick reference to the real feelings and experiences that have affected them profoundly in their past experiences. Fi+Si doesn't consciously say, "Ok, the last time this happened it caused a negative emotional reaction for me; therefore I will avoid it now"; Fi simply instinctively begins to experience the terrible emotional state Si has associated with whatever negative experience, and panic and dread take over, forcing the INFP to escape this situation at all costs, for fear of being forced into that state again. Fool me once, shame on you--fool me twice, shame on me. I have seen INFPs who, once they begin to develop Si, start to pay very close attention to possible contaminants which could taint the purity of their physical bodies in the environment around them. They'll become extra careful to check food to make sure it hasn't gone bad, has the right nutritional content, etc. Some of them either insist on seeing a doctor more often than necessary, or become distrustful of doctors in general and avoid the experience, if they've had some negative past experience with doctors or medication (as, unfortunately, a fair number of INFPs have.) When applied positively though, it gives them a grounding into something real, something they can hold on to that they know will always be there for them because it always has been--this can be instrumental in leading the INFP into the spiritually aware and comfortable state she desires. Development of tertiary Si helps the INFP connect her physical health and the needs of her body to the emotional and spiritual health upon which Fi is so heavily focused. As INFPs learn to pay more attention to Si, they will learn what conditions and surroundings are likely to lead them to better physical health, and recognize the enormous effect this will have on their emotional and spiritual health. As Si improves, they will appear to take a page from ISJs in their refusal to work under conditions that "don't feel right" in that they aren't conducive to promoting the calm, relaxed, and emotionally aware state under which their creative juices can flow most freely. Most importantly, however, Si serves as a voice of caution and experience to help avoid the Ne trap of getting so lost in creative exploration that the INFP forgets where his comfort zone is and repeats the same painful mistakes again and again. INFPs with strongly pronounced Si will appear less naive, more world-weary, and perhaps a little bit more cynical--but it's generally for the best, as repeated negative experiences with being too trusting too quickly will teach them. Inferior: Extroverted Thinking (Te) For INFPs, Te ideally provides an objective counterpart to Fi's value judgments by allowing them to consider the importance of accomplishing real goals through real functional external world systems. This is very difficult for many INFPs to process because forcing any sort of cooperation on others for the good of a larger system (Te) is often seen as tantamount to destroying the right to express one's personal individuality at all costs (Fi.) This moral dilemma plagues many INFPs. Te will, on occasion, pop out and result in the INFP blowing up and telling everyone in painstakingly objective detail how poorly they are living up the expected standards of their responsibilities. It kills the INFP to do this, because she wants so badly to respect others' right to personal individuality and self-expression, but ultimately she must recognize that some people will not voluntarily cooperate and must be forced to change for the good of society as a whole--nay, for the Good of Good itself! As far as I can tell the line of reasoning goes something like this: "You are not performing your moral duty to me as a friend (Fi), and every time I have been in a positive working relationship in the past (Si) it has followed certain standards (Te), and while I hate to do this, you are threatening my right to personal identity here (Fi) and thus I must explain to you objectively and very, very bluntly how your behavior cannot be tolerated (Te)." The real issue for INFPs struggling with inferior Te is the conflict between Fi's idealistic, highly personalized individualism and Te's somewhat Machiavellian ends-justify-the-means, get-it-done-at-all-costs attitude. Ultimately, once Fi, Ne, and Si are satisfied, an INFP nearing total maturity should be able to recognize the value in the idea that sometimes, unconditional promotion of individual freedom of expression is simply not practical from a resource management standpoint, and that in order for society (or any other organization) to function meaningfully as a unit, some degree of personal individuality must, at times, be sacrificed. Nonetheless, INFPs remain distrustful of any suggestion that people be "forced into boxes" or otherwise compelled to conform in any way that violates their sense of freedom of choice or private identity. As Te begins to balance this attitude, INFPs will gradually realize that actually creating the ideal utopian world they envision so naturally will require paying some attention to practical considerations, namely some form of objectively impersonal evaluation, and that this doesn't have to conflict with their ideals--it can, in fact, support and assist them in their quest to set all things right with the world. And even if they never really find perfection, at least they'll have some degree of measurable success to point to--and that may be the only way to feel content in a world which will never truly live up to the perfectly harmonious ideals that Fi lives for.

#infp mbti

[adriannahahn]

NCAA WILL NOT Limit Student-Athletes

NCAA Athletes are Now Allowed to Make Money Off of Their Name, Image, & Likeness! But wait there’s a catch...

"The NCAA’s release said the new rules will, however, allow student-athletes to reference their sport and school and will call on NCAA members to use school compliance officers to oversee the types of endorsement deals and value of individual contracts to ensure fair value for the services provided. While the recommendations outline the ways athletes can make money, they also leave room for discretion at the NCAA and school level. NCAA staff will also aid with oversight."

This is a great next step for the NCAA (finally) in providing some sort of value for student-athletes while also making us realize at the end of the day that we should have had ownership of our name and likeness this entire time. NCAA mandates that the university's name or logo will not be used or allowed in such endorsements. Still, the NCAA is an organization that restricts their athletes tremendously!

Example: I'm currently working with Eastbay in an athletic campaign, #NeverNotAnAthlete for hard times during the pandemic. If I was still at Villanova, I would not be allowed to show my own school's logo, mascot, or name in the campaign or content produced. This simply goes down to wearing a shirt, bracelet, or even saying “My name is Adrianna Hahn and I go to Villanova University.” Yes, this all sounds moronic, doesn’t it? Imagine you work for the Children’s Hospital of Pennsylvania, Marketing Director for Nike, Designer for Louis Vuitton, Adidas Social Media Manager, Basketball Coach for Villanova University, etc. and you couldn’t share your own job title to the rest of the world. You put your blood, sweat, and tears into something every day to just being compliant with unnecessary and selfish rules.

Not only does it sound idiotic to have to keep secret where you go to school, but the NCAA also states that compliance members OVERSEE the deals/ contracts being offered to student-athletes. We all might as well go home and never talk about this again. If you never played a D1 college sport, you might not be aware of this, but compliance office members might be more intense than the actual police enforcement on your campus. It is their job to find out what is wrong or illegal in a situation, and if there is none, most likely one will be created. This isn’t to knock down schools or compliance members, this is just my own experience and you can either deem it credible enough or not. That is based on individual reader’s preferences. I will now give the best advice to current student-athletes during these times: DO NOT TELL YOUR COMPLIANCE MEMBERS, TEAM MEMBERS, OR COACHES ABOUT ANY OF THE DEALS/ ENDORSEMENTS YOU ARE RECEIVING!

I hope your still reading. Yes, I said that. Not only is it important to keep your business deals personal and in the dark, but the less voices and hands on, the better outcome for you! At the end of the day, whether we want to admit it or not, a college experience depends on how that individual prepares and handles his/her obstacles and everyday situations. In all reality, a student-athlete should have a countdown for their last days on campus, because once they leave, they’re going to wish that they never told anyone about all their potential business opportunities. And yes, these are tremendous business opportunities. Let’s not allow the NCAA to limit these business deals and call it “making money off your name and likeness.” Shit doesn’t make sense, it’s not about how many people like me or my name. A company sees value and profit in me and not all humans can just get paid off of their name and status. So, in a sense, athletes do not be afraid of the NCAA, they need us. They live off of us, so demand every right and lets just be aware of how they are representing their own athletes in the media.

Let’s really break this down here. Because I feel like those who do not know me might read me the wrong way. I love Villanova and my school, so I am only referencing them for this story as an example, so please don’t make me see comments or have to hear unnecessary stories about me that are false. When I was 19 years old, a sophomore in college, my Instagram profile and basketball modeling pictures had gone viral. Of course, I was wearing a Villanova jersey, but it was not Villanova that gave me this large audience or viral platform. I created this by creating my own content, building my own name, figuring out my own social media marketing tactics, etc. Now you may say, “Oh, well you were wearing that Villanova jersey and that gave you some attention.” Yes, I am not discrediting my lovely university and their ability to attract on a mass global scale, but it was me at the end of the day. I created a brand for myself, and I know that this would have happened no matter where I went to school. I had value, I continue to bring value, and I will forever try to share that special value to the rest of the world. If I didn’t create a 100k audience, would we even be having this conversation right now? Probably not. It would be completely unfair for the NCAA to try and take ownership of something they DID NOT CREATE. Let’s take me out of the picture. The NCAA did not create Kris Jenkins or the National Championship game-winning shot. The NCAA did not create Zion Williamson, his explosive unnatural dunks while breaking a Nike shoe. The NCAA did not create DeShaun Watson, Sabrina Ionescu, Jay Bilas, Tua Tagovailoa, Tim Tebow, etc. If I keep going it’s going to make me sick understanding how valuable these players are but knowing how extremely limited they were within their own talents, skills, and making of who they are and became.

As a little girl, it was my dream to be the best WNBA player, have a fan base, be in the media and TV, and to be the person that everybody strived to be. I wanted to influence those younger than me and show those before me who was really boss. Yes, I wanted to be the boss. I always wanted to show people the real value I had, which to this day I know will go very far. When I created my social media platforms, I was impressed myself just with the numbers and how fast things were moving. I was impressed with how much opportunity I saw come my way with just the simplicity of posting great content and “selling” an amazing product. When this was all happening, it was not everybody’s dream to have a strong social media audience. People looked at me with disgust, like almost how could you sell yourself to the world like that. How could you possibly become somewhat famous or even more recognizable than your own school? Now, people get it. Everybody is foaming at the mouth for Instagram followers, but that’s for another day. What I’m trying to say is I finally created this special niche that I wanted all along, and once I got it, I was told to shut it down and find something else.

So, I went and became a server. Yes, I became a waitress. The same starting point guard, Big East record holder, Villanova star was a breakfast server at a local restaurant. Now, I didn’t serve because I needed money, I wasn’t broke. This doesn’t matter because all college kids, whether your parents are rich and will just GIVE you money, should feel the need to make your own money or make a living for yourself. I knew I needed to do something I never did before, like go into the workforce, and become a server, something I never thought I would ever be. When my friends found out I started working at pretty much the local breakfast joint, it was almost like this new comedy movie came out. Everybody wanted to see me in a uniform, cleaning tables, carrying food like I was circus animal. None of this bothered me because in all reality, I was one of the best players in the league, doing what I felt was right and worthy of my time. Everything I had assumed about serving or working in the restaurant industry smacked me in the face. For all those people who never worked in a restaurant, do you know how hard it is to confidently walk up to a table and be prepared for any and all concerns? I used to have rude people, who obviously never went out their isolated communities, scream at my face or flat out disrespect me, just assuming I was some washed up server that made no money or had no career. Mind you I’m also working and going to school in one of the richest areas in the world, yes, I said the world, look it up. When those same people found out I went to Villanova, or I was associated with basketball, or not only was associated but was the starting point guard, I started making more tips because I went to Villanova and played basketball there rather than just being a good server, which I most definitely was. 

I made sure that these same people who disrespected me knew that they came in contact with the wrong one. BUT, it wasn’t until serving where I learned how to stick up for myself, or be able to have these conversations and not be shut down. Not only did serving help me develop necessary life skills, but it was an activity that I created and made for myself, similar to my Instagram experience. All of my teammates had the same schedule, but I made the decision to put more time into getting a job, even when I played every minute of every game. That’s when I realized it wasn’t necessarily about all of the opportunities I had in front of me, but how I was going to create more opportunities from the ones I was currently in. Nobody told me I had to go get a serving job. I did it for myself. Nobody told me I had to get 100k followers on Instagram, but I did it for myself. When people do not live those same experiences as you or have the same mindset as you, you will either come across two things: having to fight for yourself and continue to do what’s best for you, or lower yourself under what other people are saying just for them to control your endeavors stemming from their own insecurities and uncomfortableness. (If you are confused by this statement, trust me I can break it down for you)

When I talk about making college your own journey and creating those opportunities for yourself, this modern issue will only pertain to you if you allow it. Even though I was successful and still broke many paths and outlets for myself, I still allowed what other people said and did to affect me. And like I said previously, I have never met an official or working member from the NCAA in my entire four years, and I know a shit ton of other athletes that said the same. You create your own opportunities, but you can also limit your own opportunities as well. Even though I went out and created those opportunities for myself, even ones I was unfamiliar with, I still was limiting my full potential and I didn’t even realize it in the moment. At the end of the day, you will leave your university, you will not be controlled by the NCAA, and to be completely honest, I don’t think we ever really were. It is significantly crucial for a student-athlete to know and understand exactly what value they will bring to the world once they leave their school. For me, I was extremely lost because I allowed others to remove me and strip me of my own value. We have just been allowing this over-arching organization to control our mindsets and activities. Trust me, keep your business private, do not be fearful of higher authority or “rules,” and if you find value in an opportunity you better never hesitate or limit yourself. 

Think about it. In college, student-athletes should never feel limited, we only have so much power. NCAA LIVES OFF OF CONTROLLING OTHER BUSINESS’ PROFITS! What the hell kind of budget is the NCAA going to take from me in order to receive their 10% earning? $100 if I make $1000 on a social media or product campaign, the NCAA must track me down and all my business opportunities so they profit as well! Even Zion Williamson or Kris Jenkins memorable sports moments that might bring in millions of dollars for these kids, LET THESE KIDS HAVE THE MONEY. It’s almost like multimillionaires owning sports teams and supporting their business for the sole purpose of making money, but these same people publicly announce proactive racism and will completely shit on their true “money makers,” not even understanding at the end of the day who brings in that real money. (Yes, I said it)

Now those in the audience might be saying, “Oh, well if it wasn’t for schools or the NCAA, these student-athletes wouldn’t be going to school for free or getting their degree for free. They are so selfish that not only do they get free schooling but they also want to be paid!” Yes, Yes we do. And for those who are thinking this, stop assuming now. Athletes are in major debt all the way up until college, and for those athletes who don’t make it to college or don’t have a successful college career, that debt might not ever get repaid. I hope we aren’t confused with the usage of debt here. In this case, let’s just say the average athlete starts at 8 years old, plays sports until 18 when they go to college and will then be financially provided by the university. For those athletes like myself that were fortunate enough to have parents to be able to financially provide their children to play sports (remember this is not everyone), that is about 10 years parents are paying for sports. Each year, let’s just say with school basketball and summer league/ AAU, parents total per year is about $10,000, and I’m just being nice right now. Calculating that up, it is at least $100,000 for a child to play a sport well enough to get a full D1 scholarship, and I’m only talking about playing 1 sport. Where is the NCAA now? Where is their influence or guidance during this process? Where are they pretty much your entire life? Nowhere.

 How long will it take for a family or student-athlete to get that money back? It is an investment that not everybody just takes or sees beneficial. Not only are parents in debt for sports activities, but they are also paying what every other parent is paying as well. Not only was this a financial necessity, but do you know how much time and dedication was made by the entire family for this one child to go to school? It is a family sacrifice. So, for those who just complain and make comments when they were never in our shoes don’t really need to be heard right now. Especially when if we broke it down, the numbers will not ever add up, so let’s not compare when the numbers don’t, that’s just facts. If you disagree, you can either stop reading or continue. Not only is it essential that these kids get the money they deserve in order to make a living in life, but we fucking need it! We want it and we deserve it, just like anybody would demand profit or income for something that required hard work, talent, and way too much time. As athletes, we are made and built to be the best, to become the best versions of ourselves. No, it is not just about the money, but I’d be damned if I have an opportunity that I myself created and the NCAA simply tells me no. But guess what? It’s too late for me.

To all my student-athletes, keep your business to yourself and you will strive. Save the money you secretly make from business/ companies, it is so easy nowadays to save and invest. If somebody from your school’s compliance or of higher authority makes you do something or says you have to do this, 99% you most likely don’t so add me on LinkedIn and ask me questions if you feel stuck or don’t know what to do. It is now the time to tackle and create numerous opportunities for yourself, but no one will do it for you, but remember that when others get in the way, or you come across distractions. There is not a right or wrong way to do things, just as long as you build true character, have respect, and influence/teach those after you. It is not weird for a student-athlete to go get a real job midseason, even when they are the best on their team, it isn’t weird or abnormal to have 100k followers on Instagram, and it for sure isn’t wrong to create business opportunities for yourself while playing a sport in college. Do not be afraid of the NCAA, and do not allow such an organization to control your brand. When you leave college with a completed degree, the world is yours. Everything is competitive, everyone is envious, and in all reality, everyone is chasing the same things, but not everyone is working the same, or envisioning it the same way. If you see it, go get it. If you have it, make something of it. Never feel limited and for all my student-athletes, keep business to yourself and do not fear an invisible “threat.”

For all those who are reading this, parent, athlete, child, grandparent, coach, fan, etc. PLEASE do not look at me as the demon. I am doing what is right and standing for what should be granted. I was a student-athlete that played at a very high level, so not only do I understand competitiveness, success, dreams, etc., but I know how to handle adversity, overcome fear/challenge/ doubt, and I know how to find myself throughout this entire process. Business is real my friends, and everybody is chasing it. No matter how you create business for yourself, do not allow someone or something else to tell you what you have to do with it. Most of the people you will encounter never experienced such business deals or opportunities for themselves so understand their experiences as well and truly dive into a person’s mind. Do people around me want the best for me? Do these people want to see my full potential? Do these people want me to be successful in my next life journey? Realize that you are a product, and yes I say this with full value. Turn yourself into a product where others find you useful. What value can I bring that others can’t? What value/ form of impression can I give to a coach, boss, CEO, etc. where they want me over them? All of this starts in college, and yes it starts from the small business deals on Instagram, or brand ambassador discount code for a product, or national championship buzzer beater shot. I did that, we did that. Don’t forget this when opportunities present themselves my unreserved student-athletes, you created this for yourself, not them, so do what you want with it.

At the end of the day, if you think it’s wrong or hurtful to someone don’t do it. Other than that, go for the fucking world; it’s literally at the palm of your hands…

#ncaa #student-athlete #business #sports #coronavid19

[littlemisssquiggles]

Pinehead Headcanons: Oscar’s Other Rose II: Defining Rose Fox

Hey there fellow FNDM fam members. It’s your friendly neighbourhood squiggle meister here. Since some of you kindred folk showed interest, as promised I’ve put together this post sharing more info on Rose Fox.

Who is Rose Fox?

Rose Fox, full name---Rosaline Fox, is a RWBY-inspired original character of yours truly conceived from a Pinehead headcanon I previously shared about Oscar Pine formerly having a childhood friend whose character was based off of the Fox and the Rose from The Little Prince fairy-tale.

 The Meaning of the Rose Fox Character

As most of us Rosegardening Pineheads have interpreted, aspects of The Little Prince story is being used to influence Oscar’s story. In the Little Prince, the Prince was in love with a Rose; a single red rose that had blossomed on his home planet. The Rose was very vain and made the Prince believe that she was the only rose in existence but to the Prince’s disappointment, he learns that the Rose had lied to him when he discovered other roses during his travels off-world. This revelation greatly upsets the Prince. However the Prince soon meets a wise red Fox. The Prince befriends this fox and it is through its teachings that the Prince ultimately learns that his rose was his one true love. The only rose that mattered to him because he loved her.

Rolling with this thought, I wanted to create a character that embodied the Fox from the Little Prince along with the lasting message he left on the Prince. But then I decided to take that concept a step further by also having this character draw inspiration from the Rose from the story as well. As Pineheads, we all know that the Rose in Oscar’s story---the one he is meant to fall in love with and be his one true Rose is of course going to be our silver eyed protagonist: Ruby Rose. As established by the series, Ruby and Oscar have grown close within the span of two seasons with their relationship destined to blossom further going into the Atlas Arc. Whether that means a very trusting close friendship or a beautiful romance is at the call of the CRWBY Writers.

That being said, this squiggle meister wanted to toy with the idea of … what if …Oscar had another Rose in his life who he shared a strong connection with. It is this Rose who ends up challenging Ruby on her relationship and feelings toward Oscar.

As the other Rose, this character provokes Ruby as she is another person that Oscar is very close to, who he could potentially be love in love with even given their bond. However as the Fox, this character will not only help Oscar to see his true feelings but also Ruby as well. As a matter of fact, the true purpose of Rose Fox character is to aid both our Rosebuds in realizing what they truly mean to one another. And thus, this is how the character of Rosaline Fox was born. At least, my version of her based on my Pinehead headcanon.

As some of you might be aware of there, there are now three more interpretations of the Rose Fox character. There is Rosaline Hood (by @lythecreatorart), Rosalind Fox (by @che1sea-xiao-long) and now Ianthe Regem (by @miki-13). I’ll talk more about my stance on the other Rose Foxes later in this post. The meat of all this is to mainly discuss my own version. 

Rosaline Fox is my adaptation of the Rose Fox character based on my ‘Oscar’s Other Rose’ Pinehead headcanon.

In my interpretation, Rosaline secretly has feelings for Oscar and there is a bit of an unsubtle love triangle between Oscar and his two Roses. Rose loves Oscar but is also fully aware of his feelings for Ruby. It is very clear to Rosaline which rose has already tamed the young barn prince’s heart and as his friend; Rose is contented with Oscar being in love with someone else. His happiness matters more to her after all. However where Rose isn’t sure of is where Ruby stands with Oscar. Rose knows Oscar’s heart belongs to Ruby but what she wants to know is whether or not Ruby feels the same way.

In the story I’ve concocted, Ruby and Oscar have grown much closer during their time in Atlas. Ruby knows she likes Oscar very much and she would do anything for him. But lately, her feelings for him have felt strange. In the beginning, Ruby only saw Oscar as another dear friend she would give her life to protect. However the more Ruby spent time with Oscar getting to learn more about him as a person, the more her thoughts about him grew and changed to the point where she begins to question whether or not friendship is all there is to how she feels toward him. All of a sudden, Ruby finds herself conflicted on how she views Oscar. Does he mean more to her than she realized?

He’s just her friend, right? She only likes him as a friend…right? There isn’t anything…more, is there? Those are thoughts that race through Ruby’s mind whenever the subject of how she sees Oscar is brought into question. And the introduction of Rose Fox and her romantically-charges advances toward Oscar doesn’t help Ruby’s confliction.

By my headcanon, Rose is there to both challenge and help Ruby to realize her true feelings. She is the other Rose and the Fox together so that’s the dynamic I can see her having with Ruby. She’s meant to be perceived as a rival however at the same time, that isn’t all there is to her character.

Rose might seem antagonistic toward Ruby at times but she doesn’t hate her or her relationship with Oscar. Rose acknowledges Ruby as someone very important to Oscar and gives her that respect. However; that doesn’t mean that Rose is going to stand idly by and watch Ruby play games with Oscar’s feelings. Nor will she ever forgive her should she break Oscar’s heart. As the other Rose, Rose is meant to be a opponent to Ruby. She is meant to represent everything that Ruby is and isn’t (if that makes sense) and is meant to be someone who awakens a surprisingly insecure side to Ruby that she seldom shows (at least from my point of view).

Rose is young (closer to Oscar’s age than Ruby) but she is also drop dead gorgeous. Rosaline Fox is very beautiful and knows that she is. She’s almost rather conceited about it, even. To Ruby, it’s not so much that Rose is better than her in terms of skill. It’s that she is, admittedly, more beautiful compared to Ruby---at least in her eyes.

I’ve gone with this idea because it ties into a small hunch I have about Ruby. We all know that Ruby is very cute and pretty herself but what we don’t know is how Ruby perceives her appearance. Does she see herself as beautiful and confident in her looks or is she one of those types who feigns ignorance about their appearance; channelling their self-esteem into other aspects of their character while their true deep-seeded insecurity remains at the core of their personalities.

Throughout their interactions, Rose is an opponent who tests Ruby’s relationship with Oscar. Ruby; who is conflicted about her feelings for Oscar finds herself becoming uncharacteristically jealous of her Rose’s bond with Oscar especially knowing that lovely vixen has feelings for him. It’s a type of resentful sentiment that Ruby has never experienced before and she finds herself disgusted with it along with her confliction over how she truly feels.

In a nutshell, I created Rosaline around the idea of their being another Rose close to Oscar to test how Ruby feels toward Oscar while simultaneously helping her realize what those feelings are and what they mean. That is the character of Rosaline Fox.

 What Does Rose Fox Look Like?

 As you can tell from my sketches of her, Rosaline is a red Fox Faunus with dark skin and hair that is a gradient of dark brown mixed with orange before turning white at the tips like a fox tail. As a Faunus, Rose’s animal traits are her red fox ears and her prominent fangs and claws. Although her claws only erect whenever she’s angered to the point of feral rage. Beyond that, Rose’s key defining feature is her blue-grey eyes which could be mistaken for silver eyes at first glance. I know I definitely wanted Rose to have an eye colour similar to Ruby’s trademark silver eyes without being silver, if you know what I mean? Blue-grey definitely fit the bill.

 In terms of height, I pictured Rose being as tall as Ruby Rose to further their similarities. Rose is meant to be about 15 going on 16. She’s meant to always be one year older than Oscar but still one year younger than Ruby planting her right in the middle of these two. Plus I’m finding the mental image of Oscar still being shorter than his two roses and sort of sandwiched between the two of them rather comical in my head.  Another noteworthy feature about Rose is that she’s rather top-heavy for her age.

At only 15, Rose is a busty vixen which is another trait about her looks that often gathers a lot of unwanted attention from the boys. Picture her having the bust size of Yang Xiao Long but at age 15 (the same age Ruby Rose started the series at). As a matter of fact, I can even picture Rosaline and Yang kind of bonding on this experience, sharing a laugh over all the boldfaced gentlemen callers they had to put in their place when they came barking up the wrong tree.

I’m mainly making mention of this mostly in reference to Ly’s Rosaline Hood. For her design, when Ly mentioned that her girl’s got a smaller chest which gives her an advantage while performing her duties as her other alias, I couldn’t help but laugh since…well…my girl---Rosaline Fox is the farthest thing from flat. But don’t worry, like her Hood counterpart, Rosaline has something else about her that plays a very important part in her own secondary persona as well. Her semblance.

What is Rose Fox’s Semblance?

Okay. I’ve thought long and hard about this and I know the perfect power I want Rose Fox to have. Her semblance is Shapeshifting---she can alter her physical appearance to become a near-perfect replica of another. It doesn’t matter if the other person is young or old, tall or short, fat or skinny, male or female, human or Faunus ---Rose can become that person and is able to successfully impersonate them even down to their voice.

Though a very strong semblance, there are limits to this ability. For starters, unlike other known shapeshifters in RWBY such as Neopolitan, Rose can only replicate a form she’s already seen. The same goes for the mimicry characteristic of her shapeshifting semblance. Rose can only imitate a voice she’s already heard. Fortunately she’s trained her semblance well enough that all she needs is to hear a voice once and she’s able to imitate them perfectly from memory.

Another limit is that should Rose need to retain a form for an extended period, she can only hold it up to 9 hours total before her transformation gives out and she changes back to her normal form. In the past she was only able to hold a form a few minutes at best but she’s trained herself well enough over the years to master her power up to decent limit she can work with, especially on missions as a huntress.

The way how Rose’s semblance works (or at least how I’m going to describe it) is that it’s NOT an illusion-based power. Rose isn’t using mental mind tricks or cloaking herself in a haze that tricks the human eye into seeing her as someone else.

Think of Rose’s semblance working like Ditto from Pokémon or the Polyjuice potion from the Harry Potter series or even like how the Crystal Gems shapeshift in Steven Universe. When using her semblance, Rose’s body becomes like clay which she can then physically morph, contorting and shaping it to match the likeness of another being. It takes a great deal of discipline for Rose to maintain a consistent hold on her replicated form before her mask starts to crack and she slowly changes back to true self.

Fortunately, even before she began her huntress-training at Atlas, Rose has possessed her shapeshifting abilities from since she unlocked her semblance at a young age and through years of her own rigorous training, Rose has now reached a level where she has perfected control of her powers. It’s definitely enough for her to be seen as a threat on the battlefield to any poor unsuspecting foe; being a girl who can become anyone.

However there is one noticeable imperfection in Rose’s semblance. Though she’s perfected morphing herself even down to changing her skin colour at whim, for some odd reason Rose can never shake the one glaring flaw in her replications. Her eyes. No matter what form she takes, her eye colour stays the same and sticks out like a sore thumb. For example; Rose can shift into a perfect doppelganger of Oscar Pine and even talk like him but unless you know Oscar or at least know that his eyes are not blue-grey then you wouldn’t see right through Rose’s disguise.

This is actually a common prank that Rose and Oscar used to play as kids. Let say’s Rose unlocked her semblance when she was still a young kit at age five and one time she shifted into Oscar and tried to fool his mother---Dorothy while the real Oscar hid somewhere else laughing. Unfortunately for the young Rose, her trick didn’t work. It might’ve fooled their neighbours but not Dorothy Pine who knew fully well that her son had big bright hazel eyes (just like hers) and not blue-grey eyes like a certain Rose Fox she knew.

I’m actually kind of still contemplating whether or not to keep this flaw in Rose’s semblance. For now I’m going to keep it because there is a story reason as to why it’s there in relation to something I’ll discuss later in this post.

I know when I first mentioned Rose’s semblance, I described it as being a rather unorthodox power. In a way, it still feels that way to me in the context of the RWBY universe. The only canon shapeshifter in the series is Neo and even then her powers make sense within the show since her power is based on illusions that she manifests. Rose Fox, on the other hand, is literally human playdo. Well Faunus playdo. No one in RWBY has this kind of semblance so it made me wonder if it would work.

Doubts aside, I think shapeshifting is an ability that suits a character like Rose Fox perfectly. I can certainly see Rose’s genuineness as a person constantly being called into question by judgmental folks around her especially given the type of semblance she has. Now I’m picturing a small scene where some snobbish Atlesian students, jealous of Rose and her beauty whisper mean things about her behind her back. However, Rose being a Faunus with great hearing overhears every word these girls say about her and boldly puts them in their place for daring to disrespect her. Pick a small exchange of dialogue like this:

Snooty Female Altas Student #1: Hey look, it’s that Rose Fox girl.

Snooty Female Altas Student #2: *in disgust* Yuck! I hate her! She’s such a stuck up bitch. Thinks she’s all that just because she’s pretty. I mean, my dog has a pretty face too but even she knows her place unlike some animals.

Snooty Female Altas Student #1: Right? The only reason people like her so much is because she’s got big boobs. It’s not like she has anything else going for her.

Snooty Female Altas Student #2: Speaking of, did you know? Her semblance is like…some kind of shapeshifting or something.

Snooty Female Altas Student #1:Oh my gosh! Now it all makes sense. The perfect power for such a fake Rose.

Snooty Female Altas Student #2: *laughing haughtily* So fake! Hey do you think she morphs her boobs to look that big?

This curious question is only answered by Rose Fox interrupting the conversation by suddenly slamming her hands on the wall between the two other Atlas students. She did it so abruptly that both girls nearly jumped out of their skins as they edged away from a seething Rose who only smiled at them. Sweet but venomous.

Rose: *cheekily* I dunno ladies. Wanna test that theory of yours? You’re both welcome to cop a feel if you like?

Snooty Female Altas Student #1 and #2: …

Rose: What? No takers? Two seconds ago you were perfectly fine mouthing me off behind my back. Now all of a sudden you got nothing to say?

Snooty Female Altas Student #1: …Uh…we…

Snooty Female Altas Student #2: …We---We were only just---

Rose raised one clawed finger to silence the girls.

Rose: Tell you what? If neither of you got the balls to talk to me to my face then quit talking about me behind my back before you embarrass yourselves or…I embarrass you myself. Whichever wipes the smug looks off your ugly faces the fastest.

With that, Rose struts away, long hair swishing behind her back. But; not before getting one last shot in.

Rose: Oh and to answer your question. I may be a fake Rose but at least my girls are realer than the two of you combined. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Kisses ladies.*winks*

I take great pride in my Rosaline being the confident lovely flower not afraid to firmly remind rumour-spreading turds, especially the ones at Atlas Academy, to be mindful of her thorns.

In the beginning, I was going to make Rose’s semblance her being able to turn into a man. This idea was inspired by the manga series Fushigi Yugi: Genbu Kaiden where one of the main male characters---Uruki---one of the Seven Celestial Warriors of Genbu could change into a female version of himself and it was his female form that possessed control over the element of wind. This also makes me think of Ramna ½ where the lead guy turns into a girl if he gets splashed with water or something like that, I think. 

Anyways I was going to originally make Rose’s semblance something like that. But then I figured why not just make shapeshifting it; one and done. As I’ve pointed out, this kind of power works perfectly for a character like Rose Fox since in East Asian folklore, foxes are depicted as familiar spirits possessed by magical powers and they are known to be shapeshifters.

  “…The fox spirit is an especially prolific shapeshifter, known variously as the huli jing (fox spirit) in China, the kitsune (fox) in Japanese and the kumiho (nine-tailed fox) in Korea. Although the specifics of the tales vary, these fox spirits usually shapeshift, often taking the form of a beautiful young women who attempt to seduce men, whether for mere mischief or to consume their bodies or spirits…”  

So yeah, Rose is a shapeshifter. That’s her power and as you’ll learn soon, it plays an important role in her backstory.

What is Rose Fox’s Signature Weapon?

Every aspiring huntress needs a weapon, right? Thanks to Ly’s brilliant idea, I’ve joined the bandwagon for Rose’s huntsmen attire and fighting style drawing inspiration from Robin Hood. I really love this idea a lot. 

While I’m admittedly still working out the finer details of this, I know for a definite fact that I want Rose’s signature weapon to be dubbed: Artemis Rose; named after the Ancient Greek goddess of virginity, the wilderness, hunting, wild animals and protector of young children and women

So in keeping with that concept, I’m picturing Artemis Rose being a hybrid between a mechanized broad sword which transforms into a bow that arrows that are dust-infused bullets that Rose loads into her weapon via cartridges. Or something like that. Still working out the kinks on that one and weapon design isn’t exactly my forte.  

However when I imagine Artemis Rose, I picture it being similar in design to Starseeker---the trademark bowsword used by Serah Farron in Final Fantasy XIII-2 but having the same functionality as Chatareus----the bladed compound sniper bow used by Vella Moisia in the RWBY Fan-made SLVR ‘Viridan’ Trailer created by Mark Zhang.

When is Rose Fox’s Birthday?

Ah yes, the penultimate question. One that I wish the CRWBY would give us for Oscar Pine but…no dice. Although the CRWBY haven’t (and may never really) confirmed Oscar's birthday, I'm still sticking to my Pinehead headcanon of Oscar being a Spring-born Easter baby with his birthday falling between either April or May making him a Taurus-born. My picks for Oscar's birthday were either April 21st or May 21st. I'm more leaning toward Oscar's birthday being April 21st. I was going to originally pick May as my fanon interpretation of Oscar's birth month since May is the fifth month in the year. This for me correlates well with October being the tenth month in the year which has been confirmed as Ruby's birth month.

However, April is usually an Easter-related month. Case in point, April 21st was Easter Sunday this year. I really want Oscar to be an Easter baby. So therefore, I’m sticking to my guns on that Pinehead headcanon. Another headcanon of mine is that whether or not his birthday falls in April or May, Oscar’s birthdate is the 21st. Why the 21st, you might ask? Because it draws a parallel to Princess Ozma from the Wizard of Oz. According to research, Princess Ozma was born August 21st making her a Leo. While I find the Taurus personality fits Oscar a lot better, I like the idea of his birthdate definitely being the 21st. 

Unless the CRWBY tells me otherwise, from henceforth, this squiggle meister is going to treat April 21st as Oscar’s birthday.  That's my headcanon and I'm gonna indulge in it. Leave me be, dagnabbit. By my stance, Oscar is a Taurus. He’s not my character but that’s how I see him.

But since Rosaline Fox is my character, I'm confirming her to be a Sagittarius born (the Archer sign) born in the Christmas month of December on the day of the winter solstice: December 21st. That’s her official birthday Rose Fox-fans.

 I quite dig the concept of Oscar and Rose both sharing the 21st as their birthdates. It fits for me and my headcanon since they are meant to be close childhood best friends who grew up being thicker than thieves. So by the power invested in my theories, Oscar Pine is Easter, Ruby Rose is Halloween and Rosaline Fox is Christmas. I dig it.

What is Rose Fox’s Story?

Born December 21st, Rosaline Fox is the only child of Robyn and Marian Fox. Unlike most Faunus we've seen introduced in RWBY, my idea for Rose is that she is technically a half-breed by Faunus standards. In spite of World of Remnant claiming that Faunus and Man are compatible from a biological standpoint and are able to breed successfully, there haven’t been much examples of Faunus characters with human parents.

So with Rose, I decided to make one of her parents human. Her father, Robyn Fox was a red fox Faunus who chose a human to be his wife. Robyn and Marian lived a seemingly happy love and marriage raising their daughter. Despite them being two different species, Rose shares a close bond with her mother and Marian Fox loves her daughter unconditionally in spite of all the weird whispers and rather impolite, discriminatory glances she'd received from others learning that she, a human women, married a Faunus and had Faunus child. Though raising a Faunus child has been a different experience, that hasn’t stopped Marian from raising her daughter right.

Although Rose had a good relationship with her mother, her closest parental bond was with her father. Not just because he was a Faunus like her but mainly because, in Rose’s eyes, her father was her hero . A great man who was an even greater father. Emphasis on was---will get to that later.  

Physically, Rose gets most of her lovely looks from her mother. Marian has always been a very beautiful woman able to grab the attention of any man who crosses her path and her vivacious rose of a daughter didn’t blossom too far from that garden. From Robyn, Rose of course inherited his Faunus traits as well as his grey-blue eyes.

Before Rose eventually went off to Atlas Academy as teenager, she would often train with her father. Although Robyn was no huntsman, he did know a thing or two about combat and wasted no time in arming his little rose with the knowledge to defend herself. This type of knowledge came in handy when Rose was a kid. She was quite the scrappy little kit back then.

In her old neighbourhood in Mistral, Rose would often be bullied by the neighbouring kids for being a Faunus. One or two times it even got physical. But luckily, Rose Fox could more than take care of herself. Even as a kit. In fact most of her fighting skills went into protecting the one friend she had back in Mistral: a young farm boy named Oscar Pine.

Just like Rose, Oscar was the only child to a single mother named Dorothy Pine. Oscar and Dorothy used to live right next door to Rose and her family. The two families were good friends with each other since Dorothy and Marian were childhood friends themselves and thus the two mothers raised their children to be great friends as well.

Rose and Oscar have known each other since they were in diapers and grew up together. And as friends, they were practically inseparable. The Fox and the Farm Boy .By my imagination, Rose and Oscar are one year apart with Rose being the older between the two.

When they were kids, Rose and Oscar figured they would be friends forever. However all that changed when Rose and her parents left Mistral. She was eight years old when this happened.

Robyn Fox had grown tired of slaving away in the mines of Anima for little to nothing and wanted to take his family to a place where he believed they could prosper better. So being the ambitiously zealous man that he was, Robyn abandoned his mining job in Mistral; uprooting his family and moving them all the way to the colder climate of Solitas in hopes of making it all the way up to Atlas.

This, of course, meant Rose leaving Oscar behind and the two young friends were forced to part ways on a childish yet wishful promise to hopefully meet each other again someday when they were older. A promise that wouldn’t be achieved for another eight years year when the two childhood friends are finally reunited in the hallways of Atlas Academy.

During the years since she moved from Anima, Rose and her family lived way down in the Barracks---a sector of Mantle designated to housing all immigrants; humans and Faunus alike (mostly Faunus) who came from other kingdoms to live the, quote, unquote, Atlesian Fantasy.

Living in the Barracks was a rather uncomfortable experience for Rose and her family for their first two years in Solitas. The cold winter climate was a first for Rose, having only been accustomed to living in the warm countryside of Anima. Fortunately Rose had much friendlier neighbours this time within the Barracks and her family were well-acquainted with their fellow Faunus families. After all, they all came to Solitas chasing after the same pipe dream. All they had to depend on was help from each other so getting along seemed like the better attitude to adapt in order to survive the cold winters. For better or worse, Rose remembered meeting some very nice Faunus folk, young and old, in the Barracks for her first part of her life as a citizen of Mantle.

However these ties would not last long. Eventually, luck came knocking at Robyn Fox’s doorstep when he was able to land a job with the Schnee Dust Company through a connection from another Faunus he worked with in Mantle. Through this new career, Robyn was finally able to move his family out of the Barracks and for a second time in her life, Rose was forced to leave the bonds she had made in the Barracks as her family migrated upward to the Atlas Kingdom.

By Faunus standards living within the upper Kingdom of Atlas, Rose were often looked down upon as some kind of pampered animal by her more human colleagues. To Rose’s astonishment, not a lot of Faunus make it to the top. The more common ones are the fraction of the Atlesian Faunus population who were fortunate enough to be born within the upper kingdom walls. The more common ones are those who were brought up on the backbones of past generations of Faunus who worked hard so that their descendants could be born citizens of Upper Atlas and thus never have to struggle from where where their ancestors had to start off.

For example, Neon Katt of Team FNKI--a Faunus, who by my theories, was born and raised in Upper Atlas but had ancestors who came from Mantle. Rose Fox was part of the fortunate few whose families got lucky enough to catch a break. The rest---the greater percentage of the Faunus population are forced to toil away in the lower kingdom.

As a matter of fact, the humans of Upper Atlas Kingdom were a lot less humble than the few Rose befriended in the Barracks. On the contrary, there were humans of Atlas who believef that Faunus like Rose shouldn’t even be allowed within the upper kingdom. To them, their place in society should be down toiling away in the Barracks or any other part of the decrepit Mantle population.

This was an offensive terminology and assumption of her character that Rose despised with a passion. No one knew of the struggles that her and her parents had to endure just to get where they were in the present. No one knew of her father’s sacrifice. All those long days and nights he used to slave back in the dust mines of the Anima countryside just so he could provide enough food on the table to get his family through the month. No one knew of all those lonely cold nights her and her mother would sit up waiting for her father to come home safely from working double while they were stationed in the Barracks. All those times she spent comforting her distressed crying mother who was often very concerned for her father’s safety knowing the dangers of working within the much colder and less stable dust mines of Mantle.

No one knew anything about her at all so who were they to judge her as a whole based soley on her status as a Faunus? As far as Rose knew, she was blessed. Not pampered. As far she knew, her father had found his calling working for the Schnee Dust Company. If it weren’t for the SDC then her father wouldn’t have achieved the chance to finally provide the life he’s always dreamed for his family. Her father was making more than enough money to spoil Rose and her mother with everything they’ve ever wanted. As far as she knew, everything was as it should be. Everything was perfect, right?

Little did Rose know at the time, nothing is ever truly perfect or as it seems on the surface. And like any classic superhero origin events, these are the events that led to one Faunus girl becoming one of the most notorious vigilantes known to Atlas.

Rise of the Rose Hood

I’m going to dedicate to this section to Ly (@lythecreatorart​.). I owe a lot of the ideas that went into crafting this side of Rose’s story to her brilliance and her Rose Fox variation: Rosaline Hood.

Here’s what I’m thinking: I have this small squiggly theory where part of the Faunus abuse and exploitation by the SDC is the higher ups (like Jacques Schnee) secretly blackmailing the Faunus employed under their company to take down their enemies for them. I couldn’t come up with a better name for this organized Faunus cabal so for the sake of this concept, I’m just going to dub them the Cerberus Triad for now.

The Cerberus Triad are a crime syndicate of Faunus secretly organized by the SDC to forcefully scope out and enlist vulnerable Faunus employed under their fine establishment to perform odd jobs on behalf of the company. And by odd jobs I mean crimes ranging from vandalism and burglary and even kidnapping, battery and in worse cases--- murder. All for the SDC.

Since World of Remnant mentioned that the SDC take pride in using shady tactics to out their competitors, my concept is through the use of their organized Cerberus Triad who are devoted to serving them, whether it’s their choice or not.

Basically think of Cerberus Triad as being the opposite of the White Fang. While the White Fang were more of a radical terrorist group who fought the humans proclaiming peace and equality for the Faunus race, the Cerberus Triad were Faunus who worked with the humans in charge of the SDC and profited from basically being their pawns at the expense of their freedom.

To the most Faunus involved with the Triad, at least the more dedicated members who’ve been so exposed to the lifestyle that they can’t afford to quit, they didn’t care if they were being used by the SDC. To the more third class Faunus who resided in the slums of Atlas and Mantle, the Triad was their one way of surviving. It was either that or death to them and their starving families. To those Faunus, they had nothing to lose. Why bother fighting against the humans when you can just as easily let their richest spoil you. All it took was just selling your soul to the SDC and getting your hands dirty taking care of their dirty laundry. That’s pretty much the concept I have for the Triad.

The Cerberus Triad are the property of the SDC and comprise mostly of poor Faunus---particularly the ones struggling to care for their families, who are at the complete mercy of the company. These Faunus are drafted to perform the SDC’s crimes for them under the promise of a better life.

A handful of these Faunus are roped by fellow Faunus who the Triad send to pull them in. The rest are threatened with the death of their families if they didn’t submit to the joining the Triad. The Cerberus Triad are the hellhounds who guard their masters’ identities and wait dutifully to be deployed against their masters’ foes. They are even willing to take the fall for their masters’ crimes (or worse), all the while the rest of the world remains oblivious to what the SDC has really been up to.

Though the hellhounds are indeed compensated handsomely for their services--- after all, the SDC is led by masterminds who know how to keep their pets in line; it doesn’t change the fact that these Faunus are forced into doing despicable things for the the SDC just for sake of keeping their families safe and cared for.

In reality, the hellhounds of the Cerberus Triad are no better than a pack of tamed animals who the SDC have by the throat and aren’t afraid to exploit their slaves as they please. The worse of the all are the Triple Threats--the proclaimed Heads of the Cerberus Triad.

In the Triad hierarchy, the Triple Treats are three alpha dogs---the ones entrusted by their masters to keep their identities a secret while additionally luring in and groom their fellow hellhounds. And should any of the pups lose their way, the Triple Threats are the top dogs the SDC deploy to ‘take care’ of them.

The Triple Threats are the prime examples of Faunus who have been so inbred in the culture of the Triad that they dare not betray their masters---willing to even kill their fellow Faunus brethren if it meant keeping their riches. To these particular Faunus, any life is better than having to rot away in the cold of Solitas. Even a life of crime.

I know these are all just ideas I’m spouting here but…admittedly this could be a pretty cool concept if done canonically. The White Fang are now a thing of the past as of the V5 and replacing them are the Faunus Militia Makes me wonder if there is a chance we might see the Belladonnas and Ilia Amitola returning at some point during the Atlas Trilogy as part of the subplot involving the Crimes of the SDC as teased by Adam Taurus in V6.

Through the White Fang, we’ve seen an example of Faunus willing to fight the humans for equality and freedom. Now imagine if things are different over in Atlas and Mantle where the Faunus who are slaves to humans being forced to do crimes for them. A concept similar to the Cerberus Triad could potentially be a nice contrast from the White Fang while still continuing the subplot of Faunus abuse. Who knows? 

 Resuming Rosaline’s story, Robyn Fox---her father, was secretly a hellhound for the Cerberus Triad. That was how he was able to acquire the income to get his family out of the Barracks up to Atlas. Like any hellhound, Robyn was rewarded with more money than he could ever dream off. Enough to provide his girls with the liverish lifestyle they deserved. Unfortunately, this also meant Robyn living a double life---lying to Marian and Rose about all the ‘good work’ he was doing for the SDC when the truth was that he was at the complete beck and call of the Cerberus Triad.

Through the Triad, Robyn would do things that he’d never be able to forgive himself for. Things that made him feel a tremendous amount of shame especially to his baby Rose who idolized him. One time Rose even told Robyn that she hoped she could do great work as a huntress someday just like what her father was doing with the SDC.

It was with this statement that Robyn Fox made a choice. For his daughter’s sake and his dignity as a father, he needed to quit his criminal ways. He needed to leave the Triad once and for all and let the world know the truth about the SDC.

Unfortunately for Robyn Fox, one does not simply walk away from the iron fist of the Cerberus Triad. It was a mistake he paid for with his life. At some point, Robyn threatened to quit the Triad with plans to rat them out to the Atlesian law enforcements. Without the Triad’s knowledge, Robyn had secretly been gathering evidence he had planned to use to expose the identities of masterminds within the SDC behind the Cerberus Triad. He had put together a list---the names of SDC members who Robyn suspected to be the Masters or at least accomplices as he gathered his proof. Among the names of the expected Masters was Jacques Schnee---the CEO.

Robyn had disclosed this plan to a dear friend---a fellow disgruntled hellhound who shared Robyn’s same sentiments about leaving the Triad for good. Robyn figured he could trust said friend. He was wrong.

As one might expect, Robyn’s so-called ally backstabbed him and ratted him out to the Triple Threats who then executed his death. Robyn Fox wasn’t just killed. He was murdered---corned like prey in the wilderness, beaten brutally to death before being shot through the head and left for dead bleeding out in the cold.

All the while this was happening; a petrified Rose Fox---too scared to move, hid somewhere else where the attackers couldn’t detect her. Rose had been out with her father when the Hellhounds came for him. Worried that they might hurt Rose too, Robyn stowed Rose away somewhere safe and told her that no matter what she heard, she must not move. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Stay perfectly still.

So Rose stood still. She stayed as stagnant as a statue made of clay as masked assailants---at least five of them---took their shots at murdering her father while she did nothing. She couldn’t make out their faces from where she stood; not like she looked.

But she never forgot their scent. Their scent would haunt Rose in her nightmares for many days to come; particularly one person. The face of the last person her father saw before he was shot dead. In the name of the SDC, the culprit boldly announced before pulling the trigger.

As a fox Faunus, Rose has excellent hearing and sense of smell. Her sense of smell is strong enough for her to identity someone based on how they smell alone. This is ironically how she and Oscar reunited. She never forgot her best friend’s scent so she immediately recognized him after catching a whiff of his trail when Oscar and Ruby were exploring the Atlas school compound before Oscar’s first day at the academy. Let’s just say, to Rose Fox, Oscar has a rather strong odour to him that she can smell from a mile away.

This plays into the fun fact is that pine trees are known for their nice smell so now I’m imagining Rose Fox constantly trying to sniff Oscar because she really likes his scent; all the while encouraging others to smell Oscar too which embarrasses the poor farm boy. 

Getting back on track here---following her father’s murder, Rose was never the same again. On the surface, she tried to be her old chipper self for the sake of her mother who was completely devastated by what happened to her husband. But at her core, Rose was hiding an insatiable taste for revenge. She wanted to hunt down the people who took her father away from her. She wanted justice and it was a justice she sought out for herself.

This is the part that I owe Ly for inspiring with her Rosaline Hood. In Rosaline’s Hood story, she is the Robbing Hood. 

However in my Rose’s story; to make a long elaborate story short, her father’s murder inspired Rose Fox to become the Rose Hood.

Using an old photo of her father when he was a young adult, Rose used his likeness to create an alternate persona of the Rose Hood to live out her vendetta. No one would ever suspect that a mysterious male Faunus vigilante is in fact a teenage Faunus girl with a shapeshifting semblance, correct?

Initially, Rose had only meant to use the Red Hood to hunt down her father’s assailants---donning the face of a Deadman to bring the men who killed him to justice by his---well her hands. However the further Rose went down the rabbit hole, the more she realized that the problem was far bigger than she imagined.

Eventually Rose found her father’s list and started unravelling the truth about the Cerberus Triad and their Masters. It was something that ultimately opened her eyes to what the Faunus of her kingdom had to go through just to survive. It opened her eyes to what her father had to do just for them to survive.

That’s when Rose made a change. She decided to turn her newfound persona into a vigilante hero who fought the Cerberus Triad.

Since the Cerberus Triad would pillage on behalf of the SDC, the Rose Hood would arrive to actively thwart their crimes. At the time, all Rose wanted to do was stop the Cerberus Triad from hurting anyone else. But that objective changed for a second time when word of Rose’s adventures as the elusive Rose Hood became the talk of the town.

Before Rose knew it, the Rose Hood became a household name; especially within the Faunus community. A feat which humbled honoured Rose but still she maintained her cover. By day she was Rose Fox---your average 15-year-old first year Atlas student attending huntsmen academy. But by night, she was the Rose Hood fighting to stop the Cerberus Triad in hopes that her escapades would bring her closer to her real target. Rose had planned to finish what her father started---to bring down the SDC by uncovering the identities of the Masters and bring them to justice for all their crimes against the Faunus community.

Not before long, as the Rood Hood’s popularity continued to grow, he ultimately attracted the attention of a particular group of Faunus who would ultimately become his followers. Tired of being used by both the Triad and the SDC, this band of merry men formed the Robbing Roses, a cult of thieves formally bred by the Triad who now swore their allegiance to the Red Hood.

The Robbing Roses tracked Rose’s movements as the Rose Hood and one night, one of their founding members found him and begged the Hood to be their leader against the Cerberus Triad.

And so, Rose became their fearless leader. Under the guise of the Rose Hood, Rose secretly leads the Robbing Roses in her crusade against the Cerberus Triad and the SDC.

The Robbing Roses

The Robbing Roses were once Faunus who once worked under the tirade of the Cerberus Triad and now work with the Red Hood to bring down them down and the SDC. Whatever profits they managed to score from their escapades is then used to help these men take care of their families particularly the ones who still have family they were trying to take out of the Barracks and Mantle. Most of these Faunus are husbands and fathers who the Triad were easily able to manipulate before. Now under the Rose Hood’s leadership, they are free to fight against their original oppressors by thwarting their crimes and stealing back from them.

Since the SDC use the Faunus to create the Cerberus Triad to take out their competitors then the Robbing Roses fight to stop the Cerberus Triad while targeting the SDC. Since the SDC seems to be built on the blood, sweat and tears of the Faunus they exploit for their own selfish desires under the kingdom’s nose then it would only be fair that their fortunes should go to the Faunus, correct?

The Robbing Roses work to reveal the truth of the SDC’s true colours to the world, all the while stealing from these very rich Masters to give back to the poor they viciously exploited.

So in addition to stopping the Triad, the Robbing Roses plunder the various SDC establishments scattered throughout Atlas; taking what they can to help the families of the Faunus who are trying desperately to get out of the Barracks; particularly the one’s of those working among the Robbing Roses.

That’s the concept that I have for these guys. Imagine basically the Phantom Thieves from Persona 5 but with a Robin Hood spin on it. If Rosaline as the Rose Hood is meant to embody Robin Hood then Robin Hood isn’t complete without his merry men, right? I’m not sure what the Merry Men of Robin Hood’s story looked like however for the Robbing Roses, I’m seeing a full group of men sporting hooded capes; red like roses and full face masks to hide their true identities. 

Dissimilar to the masks worn by the White Fang, the Robbing Roses wear masks depicting the very animals the Faunus of the Robbing Roses embody. The mask is white with intricate red detailing that resembles rose petals and thorns. Remember the Anbu from the Naruto anime series? Picture something like that for their masks designs.

And since we’re talking about Robin Hood and the Merry Men, then obviously there needs to be a Little John character too.

Here’s my idea: Though loyal to the Rose Hood, none of the Robbing Roses know of his true identity as the teenage Rosaline Fox. None except for one man. A bear Faunus--- who the others called Jahn Little. I’ll dub him that for the sake of this idea I’m going with.

Basically Jahn served as the right hand and second in command to Rose when she was the Rose Hood. Jahn was also the man who formed the Robbing Roses when they were just a few struggling members and was the person who sought out the Rose Hood in the first place.

When Rose decided to ultimately abandon the mantle of the Red Hood, Jahn nobly gave up himself to the authorities claiming himself to be the Rose Hood. When asked by Rose why he would take the fall for her, Jahn revealed it was because he owed a great debt to Robyn.

Remember that dear friend I mentioned before who ratted Robyn out to the Triple Threats?

It was Jahn but it wasn’t as it seemed. Jahn was forced into ratting out his friend since the Triads intimidated him into do it. He gave up his one trusted friend in the Triad to save his own skin. Jahn was actually there that night when the Triad murdered Robyn. He was the man who tried to warn Robyn of his hit but arrived too late to save him. He did however see Rose. It was the first time Jaune saw the daughter Robyn spoke so highly of; although the two would not officially meet until the Robbing Roses form.

As for Jahn’s motive for working against the Triad and going to jail for Rose---well let’s say it was done as a final act of selflessness because Jaune had nothing else he could lose. He had already lost his family. Wife left him when he failed to provide. Jahn only joined the Triad because he had hoped he could make enough to win back his wife and son. When Jahn wanted to quit, the Hellhounds had his only family---his wife and son murdered to prove a point.

Similar to Robyn, the loss of his family was Jahn’s eye opening moment. The moment that made him realize the Cerberus Triad and the SDC needed to be stopped once and for all before other innocent lives were endangered; Faunus and humans alike. It was the moment that made him cling to the image of the Red Hood as a symbol of hope. And what was ultimately his motive for taking the fall for the young Rosaline after learning her secret.

Rose was the one who gave Jahm hope when he needed it most so giving himself up in her place was his way for repaying the kindness that her and Robyn gave to him. Jahn may have acted in his own self-interest toward Robyn but he wasn’t about to do the same with his daughter. That’s the idea.

 Final Thoughts| Garden of Roses

And…that’s it!

Phew! Alrighty, I think I’m about ready to wrap up this long meta. I was going to include another section to discuss more about what a Rose Fox Character could potentially mean for Oscar’s story arc. Buuuut…I believe it would be best if that’s yet another Pinehead Headcanon saved for a next day. Oscar’s Other Rose Part III, ya’ll!

Anywhozzits, as I’m closing off, I just would like to take this moment to personally thank Ly, Chelsea and Miki. You’ve seen me mention their names a lot throughout this post and I really do owe these three cool cats a lot for their encouragement and influence. 

Lately this squiggle meister has been feeling kind of as if folks might be getting bored of reading my RWBY content. Not saying it’s true. It’s just a lingering concern of mine with each post I make to Tumblr. So when I first shared my Oscar’s Other Rose Pinehead headcanon, like any idea I wasn’t sure how fellow FNDM fam might respond to it; especially the Pineheads.

But when I saw Ly create Rosaline Hood, as I told her, I was floored man! Then after Ly came Chelsea with her adorable Rosalind Hood and now Miki with Ianthe Regim. As someone who generally tends to talk a lot in her posts, words are not enough to describe just how genuinely happy I felt seeing all three of these beautiful Roses.

It’s because of this why I am completely open to their being multiple interpretations of the Rose Fox Character. When Ly first shared her Rosaline Hood, I didn’t want to be like “Her Rose isn’t the real Rose because she doesn’t look like my Rose”, y’know what I mean? HELL to the NAH! I was over the freaking moon seeing her first character design for Rosaline Hood the first time as well as her adorkable storyboards of Oscar and Rose’s friendship. I love seeing those. Maybe this post might’ve even inspired a few of those drawings. Who knows?

The same is to be said for Chelsea’s Rosalind Hood and Miki’s Ianthe Regim. Speaking of Miki, love, love, LOVE your drawings of all the Roses together interacting. Beautiful!

I welcome ALL incarnations of the Rose Fox Character. Even though Rosaline Fox is my version, I am more than happy with anyone else creating their own Rose Fox-inspired character. It’d be lovely to see this garden grow. It’s actually really cool when ideas inspire more ideas. My original headcanon may have helped inspire Rosaline Hood from Ly but it was Ly’s Rosaline Hood who helped inspire Rosaline, Rosalind and Ianthe too. It’s freaking crazy and I love it.

So yeah, if anyone is interested in making their own Rose Fox characters, you’re more than free to do so. The one thing I ask is that you share them with yours truly once you’re done since I’d love to see them. Just…uhm…no rule 34 level of inappropriateness please. I am open to more Roses but respectfully keep that kind of stuff out of the garden, please and thank you mighty kindly.

What would actually be beyond awesome is if the Concept of the Rose Fox Character becomes so popular that even the CRWBY Writers pick up the idea and actually decide to add their own version to the canon of RWBY. Yes, yes, I know that’s mega wishful thinking here but a squiggle meister could dream, can I?

For now, it just gets me excited seeing art of all the Roses that blossomed so far. What’s left for me to do now is to finish up my design of Rosaline so that I can join Ly and Miki on drawing all the Roses together.

I planted one tiny seed of a Pinehead headcanon and from it blossomed not just one but now four Roses, all lovely and rich in their own unique way. That’s enough for a huntsmen team.

Even though I shared all of this ideas for Rosaline Fox and her story, that doesn’t necessarily mean that my concepts are set in stone for other versions. To my fellow Rose Fox parents, you guys are more than free to use elements from Rosaline’s story for your Roses or create your own if you’d like.

Speaking of: 

What’d you think of Rosaline Fox now after reading her story?

@miki-13​, @lythecreatorart​ and @che1sea-xiao-long​, you guys asked me for my thoughts on your Roses and your ideas for their respective stories; now I’d like to know your thoughts on Rosaline’s if you don’t mind.

And if anymore Roses are to spawn, they are welcome in the garden as well. As I told Chelsea and Miki, this squiggle meister is fully on board with this Garden of Roses: A Rose Fox Multiverse that’s happening here.

I love that Rosaline now has three fellow Rose Fox sisters whose stories she helped shape and who’s own stories helped shape hers. I don’t usually indulge in creating content from my RWBY theories and headcanons but your contributions have made this so much fun and for what it’s worth, I hope we can keep having more fun with our Roses.

Who knows? Maybe from this I can get the nudge to create more RWBY Squiggle OCs inspired by other Pinehead headcanons I’ve made. Like Tippetarius from this Pinehead headcanon right here. I guess we shall see. For now, let’s keep the fun going guys. Thanks for reading!

More Squiggles’ RWBY Content 

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)  

#rwby #oscar pine #rosaline fox #rwby rosegarden #rwby theories #pinehead headcanons #squiggles pinehead headcanons #rwby: garden of roses #rwby: defining rose fox

[do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them]

Til the End of the Night / Ch6: In which Roman has company

Previous / Masterpost / Next 

Summary: The Dragon Witch finally shows up in person.

Warnings: manipulation, breaking things in anger

A/N: Roman wanted more page time. And by wanted I mean demanded from me. So I gave it to him. :)

Read on AO3

Roman watched through his full-length mirror as his friends entered the forest.  All the walking wasn’t very exciting, but watching it was better than doing nothing. He had finally worked out how to zoom in on the stupid thing after tinkering with it (and shouting at it) for most of the day, and jeez was he ever gonna have to have a talk with those three about their clothing choices.  Virgil at least looked the part, although it was the wrong part.  And, okay, yes, Patton was freakin’ adorable, that was a given.  Logan, uh… yeah, he had nothing there.  Even his face- which was, of course, identical to Roman’s own face, and Roman looked good in anything- still couldn’t save that outfit. Back to the point, though, if they were going through the forest, that meant they were taking the same route he himself had a few days ago.  Which meant… hmm.

He flopped on the bed to think, staring up at the ceiling. When he traveled that path, he was always presented with challenges- three of them, to be exact.  Adventuring was his way of testing himself, making sure his improvisation skills were kept sharp, as well as his swordsmanship.  His friends probably wouldn’t be fighting much, though, given that they had no weapons and wouldn't know how to use them if they did.  No, they were more likely to face obstacles suited to their individual strengths.

“But what might those be?” he mused aloud.  Not that he didn’t know what their strengths were, but how did, say, Patton’s emotional intelligence and caring nature translate into anything that might pop up in the normal course of a heroic quest?  He tried not to dwell on the fact that he should have known, that he seemed to be losing control over his own dreamspace thanks to their presence and truly did not know what would happen.  “I mean, I’ve certainly never heard of anyone defeating a dragon with hugs.”

“Have you ever tried?”  He sat up in surprise at the sound of another voice, light and teasing, yet underlaid with a dangerous sharpness.  The Dragon Witch herself, stepping through the mirror.  He dismissed the images quickly and laid a hand on his sword, jumping to his feet.  “It’s been a while, Prince.”

“Not long enough, witch, and I believe the attempt would only earn me a knife in the back,” he pointed out, eyebrow raised.  She laughed, tossing her intricately braided dark hair over her shoulder.

“You know me too well.  How are you faring, all alone in here?  I know it must be difficult for you, what with the lack of adoring imaginary subjects and all.”

“You’ll be disappointed to hear that I am perfectly fine.” Actually, he had never been so bored in his life.  Now that the reality of his situation had really settled into the Imagination’s framework, he couldn’t conjure anything fun anymore.  “Enough small talk, what are you planning?  You must have a reason for wanting me out of the way.”  His weapon was drawn now, and they circled each other, Roman holding his sword at the ready, the witch’s hands giving off a warning glimmer of magic.  They both knew better than to attack first, so a wary peace existed for the moment.

“Oh, taking over your kingdom, terrorizing the populace, the usual.  I do wish you’d give me more complicated motives once in a while.”  The witch was one of Roman’s earliest creations.  He wasn’t entirely sure when she had become self-aware.  It was a bit worrying, if he was honest; sometimes he wasn’t sure if she was really under his control or just playing along for her own amusement.

Roman bristled at the insult to his creativity, clapping a hand over his heart in offended shock.  “You dare presume to tell me how to craft my stories?!  I wish you wouldn’t imprison me in my own architecture, but we can’t always have what we want, can we?”

“Point taken.  But that reminds me, I didn’t just come to indulge your love of antagonistic banter.”  She took a step towards him and he raised his sword defensively.  “Oh, put that down, I’m not here to fight.”

“Maybe I am,” he retorted, and, well, with an opening like that, what was he supposed to do?  He lunged at her with a shout, only to find himself suspended in midair, surrounded by green and gold light.  Stupid magic. His sword floated out of his hand and over to her while he was immobilized.  She finally released him from the spell after catching it and he thudded onto the floor in a very unprincely manner.  He glared at her and stood up, brushing himself off and trying to look at least a little bit dignified.

She responded as if nothing had happened between his last statement and this one.  “No, you’re here to wait for someone to save you from my evil clutches, but since I doubt that will be happening any time soon, right now you’re going to help me with this.”  She produced a rolled-up parchment and showed him a vague drawing of a castle.  “I mean, it’s definitely missing something, right?”

He blinked, taken aback and briefly forgetting to be angry. “Pardon?”

“The design of my castle,” she said, as if it should have been painfully obvious.  “How am I to take your place as ruler of this realm without anywhere to rule from?”

He really shouldn’t be helping her with that, but dangit, the temptation of having something to do was too strong.  It wasn’t as if she would have time to actually construct the thing, after all, he certainly wouldn’t be lending any assistance there, so there was no harm in merely planning it as a mental exercise.  And he really wanted to draw a castle, okay?  He snatched the paper and spread it out on the table, conjuring a pencil.

“Alright, you’re definitely going to need more spikey bits here… No, no, this is all wrong-” he erased an entire section of the building- “this should be over here, and then maybe some spires… Oh, and of course there’s got to be a wall with a nice, intimidating front gate…”  Without her noticing, he also scribbled in a small back-door entry.  No impenetrable stronghold would be complete without a way to sneak in, obviously.

Soon he was flipping the paper over to sketch different angles on the back, and then unconsciously summoning up more, so absorbed in messy floor plans that he didn’t notice when the sun went down. The witch watched over his shoulder as he muttered to himself, smirking at how easy it had been to get him going. Eventually, he finished off one last illegible annotation with a flourish and stepped back proudly. “Done!  Beautiful, right?”

She stepped around him and shuffled through the papers. “Oh, yes, you’re so talented!”  He preened.  She glanced sideways at him, a glint in her silver eyes and a smug smile tugging at her lips, and he faltered, realizing he may possibly have made a slight mistake.  “And so, so incredibly easy to manipulate.”

Her eyes flashed green.  He gasped and braced himself on the table.  It felt as though someone had wrapped a hand around his internal organs and given a sharp tug.  Something was torn from him, forced violently out into the world.  His closest reference point was a dream gone wrong, the feeling of nightmares forming themselves from his creative power against his wishes, only so much stronger. He couldn’t breathe for a second, and then the witch flicked a hand at him before he could try to move, walking away and leaving him frozen in place.  He could only watch as she oh-so-casually opened a wooden door that definitely had not existed before, on the opposite side of the room from the window, and stepped out into a long torch-lit hallway, taking his sword with her.  “Thanks for the castle, Princey,” she sang while closing the door.  There was the metallic sound of a key in a lock, and he stumbled a bit as her magic dissipated from the air around him.

“No,” he said out loud, surprising himself with how angry he sounded.  “No! How could I be such an idiot!”  He swept the papers off the table in frustration, and the look he gave them as they fluttered harmlessly to the floor should by all rights have burst them into flame.  “I finally get a chance to do something in this story, the story I was supposed to be the hero of, might I remind you-”  He appeared to be reminding the lantern.  “-and the one thing I’ve been able to do in like a week, it all goes completely flipping pear-shaped!  It’s not fair!”

He was vaguely aware that this was the literal definition of throwing a tantrum, but given that no one could see him anyway, he didn’t particularly care.  In fact, he decided to go ahead and throw a pillow, too, while he was at it.  Then he accidentally knocked the lantern off the table, again, while pacing angrily around the room, and then the pillow he’d just thrown was on fire and so were the drawings, and the lantern survived but he burned his hand retrieving it and at that point he was too frustrated and tired to clean up properly, so he didn’t. He just fell into a convenient chair and glared at nothing in particular, trying to get himself under control before his burning anger morphed into hot tears.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He couldn’t tell how long it took him to calm down.  When he felt like sitting up properly again, it was really dark outside, and that was all he knew.  The lantern was flickering, because a lot of its oil was now pooled around the charred remains of paper and fabric and fluff.  He simply snapped his fingers to get rid of that mess, now that he was stable and not at risk of making it worse instead.  While he was at it, he cleaned himself up and changed into some more comfortable clothes for sleeping, red flannel pajama pants and a soft t-shirt.  He sat on the edge of the bed, dropped his head into his hands, and sighed.

“Am I… losing control?”

The room didn’t respond.  His own thoughts tried to answer him instead, and he didn’t much appreciate what they had to offer.  The evidence was beginning to add up, as Logan would say, probably while dressed as Sherlock Holmes for some reason.  Getting stuck here in the first place could be dismissed as a fluke.  The others having influence over his realm, well, that made sense, given the way it responded to his thoughts, although that didn’t mean he liked it.  But the Dragon Witch hijacking his power to bring an entire castle into existence?  That should not have been able to happen.  He created her.  She was a figment of his own imagination.  Why was she suddenly doing things he didn’t expect, or understand, or know how to stop?  It was… scary.  He had never been genuinely afraid of anything here, always knowing on some level that none of it was real, but this scared him.

He wanted to conjure up a new pillow, but was hit with the probably-irrational fear that it wouldn’t work and he would have proof that his power was fading.  Maybe leaving him entirely, stranding him here, never to return to Thomas except in dreams, where he would desperately try to get a message through each night only to have it forgotten upon waking and okay no this was not a hypothetical narrative he needed to follow to its conclusion, that was only making things worse, stupid brain seizing on anything it could turn dramatic and taking it way further than necessary.  This was exactly why he needed the others to get here soon.  Logan would bring him back to what was real and actually happening when his thoughts ran away with him like that, and Patton would surely give him a hug and believe in him so hard he’d forget he ever doubted himself, and Virgil would make him feel better just by being there, ready to stop him if he tried to do anything else stupid for the sake of showing off.  He and Logan were basically 85% of Roman’s impulse control, but Virgil was the one willing to literally tackle him to prevent a bad decision.  He’d never expected to miss that.

This wasn’t getting him anywhere productive, and he couldn’t sleep with his thoughts in such turmoil.  He gave up after fifteen minutes of trying and sat up.  The room was nearly pitch-black, but there was a dim sliver of light coming through the crack under the newly-extant door, making the mirror appear to glow.  Maybe he would just check on them once more before going to sleep, just, you know, to see how far they had gotten since last time.  They were almost certainly asleep by now, but still.  He felt his way carefully across the darkened room and pressed a hand against the cold glass of the mirror, focusing his thoughts on his friends.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #i dont know what else to tag this as... the others arent really in this chapter #so uhh filler to get past the first five tags so i can do the organizational ones #my post #my writing #til the end of the night

[casskaykingston]

momma who bore me:

cass & olivia kingston ; sunday, january the 27rd. 11:40 AM.

tw: past and current verbal/emotional abuse

The first time Cassidy Kay Kingston II set eyes on Olivia Charlotte Dean, the first thing he wonders is where she came from, because it hadn’t been from here. He knew Wilmington inside and out, nearly every moment of his twenty five years being spent here, and he knew the townsfolk, their families, their daughters. She couldn’t have been one of them. Because if she had, C.K. would’ve tried to make his move long ago. He spotted her for the first time while at the grocers, Stetson in his hands while he waits to pick up the ham his mother wants for supper, and he sees her. Strawberry blonde hair, the deep blue eyes of an angel, and a smile that quite frankly made his head stop. Little pearl earrings catch the artificial light from above them as she stands on her tiptoes to accept the slice of strawberry shortcake from the baker, and C.K. is momentarily mesmerized by the swing of her light green skirt. Turning around, he kind of stares aimlessly at the glass in front of him, lunchmeat not processing to blue-green eyes as the mental image of that skirt flirts through his mind, taking a few moments before his stupidity hits him like a shock of lightning as he bolts towards the door.

“Excuse me! Excuse me, miss!”

A wrinkle of a creamy brow, and the mystery girl turns, one hand on her car door as she had been preparing to leave. He makes a bit of a sight, scuffed up button down with a kerchief around his neck, cowboy hat being murdered as he crumples it in his hands, dirty blonde hair with a slight cowlick and a smudge of dirt on his cheek. He's handsome, sure, but not traditionally so, and it's not the smile lines by his eyes that makes her keep pausing. It's the slow draw of a crooked smile, and the words he lets drop his country boy accent as casual as you please. “I'm sorry for stopping you, but…” he shakes his head, and the wattage in that smile slides up just a tick. “I couldn't let the prettiest thing I'd ever laid my eyes on just up ‘n walk away.”

Months of courtship and a pearl and diamond engagement ring later, and twenty year old former secretary from Virginia has become a wife. Not only a wife, but Olivia Kingston, steadily adjusting to a new world wherein walking out the front door of her home normally greeted her with sweaty men and plentiful horses. Fast forward four years, and she's cradling a baby given to her by the man who'd stopped her, a boy who carried his same name. Crystalline blues blink up at her, downy blond hair on his small head, and Olivia coos at the person who already held her whole heart, rocking him in the same chair his grandmother had rocked his father. “I'm going to love you always, sweet boy.” She whispers to him, thinking there could be nothing more beautiful than he, this child she had made and would try to fill his life with joy. “You can always, always count on me.”

Cut to now, Cass and his mother taking a walk on one of the trails in the woods that framed his house on three sides. There was no snow today, but a cold rain had fallen the night before, the thin layers of ice crunching underneath their boots. Olivia, Hudson's leash in her gloved hands, having been talking to her son for ten minutes or so so far, discussing the plans she has for a new menu once the seasons change once more. That's one area of the business Cass tends to stay out of, leaving it to his very competent and qualified head chef and his only a bit less skilled in the kitchen Momma, especially after her strawberry lemonade recipe was a smash hit and helped put the as then fledgling B & B on the map. Today, however, Cass isn't much interested in what successes they've had in the past adding a specific amount of cinnamon to their French toast recipe. What he wants to do is ask his mother is something he's wanted to know since the time his father grilled him mercilessly at the table because he'd started on his chores late after going to football tryouts. What he'd wanted to know since he'd stopped depending on his mom having his back when it was against his father. It was an uncomfortable conversation to have with a loved one, especially so close on the heels of the catastrophic one he’d had with Amy barely three days before, but it was one he’d already been avoiding for years.

Pushing the past the feelings of dread that wrapped their uncomfortable fingers around his throat every time he'd imagined this semi confrontation, Cass clears his throat, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of the vest atop his fleece lined jean jacket. “Momma, I need to talk to you about something.”

The furrow in Olivia's brow that her son inherited makes an appearance at what he says, pulling a wayward strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. Smile lines crinkle as she frowns, touching his arm. “Cassidy, honey, what's wrong.”

“What's wrong,” her son begins, subtly moving his arm, forcing his steps to keep going and not lose his nerve. “Is Dad. And how I need to distance myself from him. And why...why you weren't there for me. Then. Now.” Cass's hands curl into themselves, hidden by the puffy fabric of the vest he wore, and he isn't sure his lips are cold because of the temperature or because of the words he's trying to push out of them.

“What do you mean? There's nothing you can't ask me for Cassidy; you're my son. I would do anything -”

“Yeah. Anything. Anything but protect me from Dad.”

Olivia falls silent for a moment, Hudson's overly loud sniffing as he inspects a place to pee stopping their progress, causing them to halt. “I know your Dad is hard on you. But he really does love you and want the best.”

“Does he, Momma?” The thirty two year old man's voice is rusty and short, hard on his throat. “Does he though? Did he want what was best for me when he made sure Greer and Bailey knew how much they were loved and cared for and couldn’t do anything wrong? And if I looked in the wrong direction when he was talking to me, I’d get a lecture that lasted for hours and made me feel like a piece of shit. No fourteen year old should feel like a piece of shit, Momma.”

On some level, Olivia had known that the relationship between her husband and her son wasn’t exactly the best. For the few years, maybe there had been the kind of relationship she always dreamed of for them, but when the girls rolled around she noticed a difference. Showering attention on the other two, C.K. treating Cass more seriously and differently. When he got older, and C.K.’s attention shifted to the next generation leading the ranch, Olivia had mostly left it up to the two of them. Bonding time, she thought. Sure, she noticed over the years that Cass hated being alone with C.K. Spent as much time out of the house as he could if he wasn’t working, thin lips and blue eyes that forcibly cleared of pain when they locked on her own. Their moments had been private, private and devastating in a way she wasn’t aware of. Devastating in a way that she was only hearing now.

“In the beginning, it wasn’t too bad. He’d praise me for getting a full day of work done, for making the football team. And then it seemed to be few and between, the kind words. The spaces between them were killed with nasty ones that made me feel like the lowest of the low. I couldn’t do anything to please him, Momma. Couldn’t then, absolutely can’t now. Not when I committed the gross sin of leaving. I wasn’t going to come back, Momma. Not at all. Not when he was what I was coming back to.”

“Cassidy, sweetie - “

“Actually, can you wait until I’m done?” Cass interrupts, shooting blue eyes sidelong to her. He might not be walking to a noose but every moment spent talking about this seemed to tighten around his neck, a suffocating hand of years of hurt and frustration bubbling up and anxious to escape. This isn’t a safe space the same way that Ashley’s office is, and Cass isn’t sure how to operate in it. To reveal the dark truths hiding in his Momma’s house, but then again - hadn’t she been the one to turn a blind eye? Hadn’t she been only a passive ally? It was only after the accident that she started helping him keep distance between he and his father, that dark spectre that had tainted so many things in Cass’s life. Including, it seemed, his relationship with his mother.

“On my sixteenth birthday, he gave me shit for not showing up to work that night. My friends threw me a surprise party at one of their houses, and I thought he’d be fine. He liked that I was popular, after all. A good face for the family.” The bearded man laughs, but it’s not the full and golden one he usually lets out. This one is scratchy and raw from past pains and incredulity of the sheer lack of humanity C.K. had shown him for much of his life. Something Cass would never, ever do to a loved one, much less a kid. Another pang, a reminder of the fight he was struggling through with Amy, and the thirty two year old fights the urge to grab at his heart. It wasn’t going to ease the hurt. “When I got home, you made me a cake. He didn’t sing me Happy Birthday with you and Greer and Bailey - and when everyone else went to sleep, he came to my room and told me how ashamed he was to have a son who rang in such an ‘important’ age with irresponsibility.”

They’ve given up on walking at this point. Hudson, let off the leash, eats snow and bounds around about them until the stress radiating from his owner reaches the point that even the dog feels it and tries to make his owner feel better. Stories spill from Cass, ugly ones with poisonous words and memories that still whip his spirit. The lectures of the way he wasn’t, couldn’t ever measure up. References to him in front of others designed to tear him down piece by piece. At every turn, Cass was a disappointment. A blight to his father and his name. How no matter how long he worked at the ranch, he was still the traitor who’d left the business behind. How C.K. refused to acknowledge any good that Cass did, anything that went wrong automatically was his fault. How scared he would be when bringing home a C, how many nights he stayed up wondering if his father was right. The incidents that he only recognized now, mostly on the other side of it, as anxiety attacks when C.K. was on the warpath. As he continued to talk, Olivia’s hands slowly seem to rise, covering her mouth. Horror is reflected back at him from his mother, horror and a deep seated sense of inadequacy; for all that C.K. had been a bad parent with all the bells and whistles, even if Olivia couldn’t quite believe all of it, she had failed in her protection of him. “I’m sorry.” Is all she manages to get out, whispered at intervals, soft with regret.

“Momma, he’s literally told me the only things he has to be proud of are Greer, Bailey, and the ranch. When Amy came over for dinner, he couldn’t stop talking about how I’d tricked her into being there. How I had to be holding something over her, or she wouldn’t be there. Because who would want to date his failure of a son, huh Momma?” Winter still has its grips on the landscape, inhabiting the seat sized rocks they’d managed to find on the trails, seeping through Cass’s jeans and yet not the cause of the shake in the broad mans voice. Cass was 220 lbs, almost 80% completely muscle, and six three, carrying an imposing figure that few wanted to mess with. Talking about his father, he seemed frailer, weaker, genuine belief in what had been drilled into his head for over thirty years almost making him try and fit into the descriptive terms C.K. assigned to him so many times. “All I’ve ever heard from Dad for years has been that I’m weak. Stupid. Useless. Incapable of doing easy things the right way, and always a step away from disaster. He’s always right. I’m always wrong. I’m not an iota of the man he is, to hear him say it. And do you know what’s the worst thing? It’s that I know I’m not. At the very least. I don’t use my words to hurt people. To make them feel like horse shit on someones shoe is probably of more use than you. But he’s poisoned me, Momma, and I hate it. He’s targeted me so many times that sometimes, my thoughts turn to aiming at others the same way. I just had a fight with Amy - and no, I don’t want to talk about it - and I said horrible things to her. I knew what to say, how it was going to hurt, where she was vulnerable. I don’t want to know where my girlfriend is vulnerable, Momma. If I do, I should only learn so I can figure out how to protect it. Not use it against her.”

A touch, Olivia’s hand on his knee, and Cass looks up at her with eyes that he’d deny to his grave were stinging, shaking his head, not done. “When he discovered that the other ranch hands actually liked me, that working wasn’t as bad with them, he made it a point to give me solitary assignments if I’d pissed him off. He reminds me every moment that the ranch is not mine, that it was his name first that goes on it and all its successes are his, all its failures are mine. If I lost a football game, he’d give me the silent treatment for a week. He’d only talk when at the dinner table, because you and the girls were there. He made jokes about erectile dysfunction when my friends were over. I learned how to stop bringing people that weren’t my forewarned girlfriends over the house so my dad would stop trying to sabotage my friendships. Do you know how long it took me to realize that other kids dads weren’t like that? Too long. I doubted everything. Dad made me believe I was just being overly sensitive, that he was just trying to push me to accomplish more. To reach my full potential. I should’ve known I’d never be enough. I won’t ever be, not for him.” A harsh truth, but one that Cass had come far enough to be able to say. Even if in his core, the root of him, longs for one sign of his father being proud of everything. Despite of everything. Because of everything. Hope, that hardest bastard to kill. His eyes give up the ghost, let tears slip down ruddy cheeks and disappear into a full beard, sparkes of shine in the gold. Hudson’s head is heavy in his lap, big brown eyes concerned whilst Cass’s shaking hands stroke his dogs forehead, gaze dropped as it had been for most of his unloading. Olivia, having long since started crying, just keeps rubbing his leg and nodding her head.

“For years I thought I was selfish for wanting his love, when he only seemed to have enough for my sisters and not for me. This ranch - this damned ranch, this thing that I love, this place that I call home and work and that I pour my existence into to make it work, the B & B that was my brainchild and my greatest pride - it’s a miracle that I’ve gotten to this place. Crazy that I feel about it the way I do. Because for years, I know it’s meant more to my father than my own life. I’m so angry about it, Momma. I’m angry, and I’m hurt, and I hate being around him, and you have to let me cut him off. You have to.” Olivia’s arm curls around his shoulders, shushes falling from lips that kissed him on the forehead more times that he could count, and Cass holds on, even as he chokes out the last words,  a show of stark vulnerability he could only show with his mom. “You didn’t protect me then. But dammit, Momma. You’ve gotta do it now. You’ve got to…”

Sure, Ashley’s prompting in therapy had been a big push to getting him there. The recent blow up he’d had with C.K., Olivia absent as always, when he laid into him for the burned barn, disparaging words about being too distracted by his relationship to do his job properly, of blaming him for hiring pyromaniac workers, and more that Cass is sure he would’ve had if he hadn’t found the strength to book it out of there, that probably helped. Whatever the final push, this was long overdue. How his mom would react to it, only time would tell, but he’d said his truth. Laid out how she’d done him wrong, and explained how. She’d apologized. And she’d probably keep doing it, even now when his tears get absorbed by her scarf and she rocks back and forth with the two of them, a woman half his size who’d been tasked with protecting her son and who had failed. Time would tell where the revelation would take them.

#self para #tw: verbal abuse #tw: emotional abuse #( wildfire lies and humiliation ; c.k. ) #ft. ck. #ft. ck #ft. olivia #so....this is sad #don't say i didn't want you #AND YES THIS STARTS WITH A FLASHBACK #I"M THAT KINDA HOE #also i've been trying to finish writing this for over a month i'm really the worst

[ainchase]

Elsword

“What do you want?  If you have something to say, then spit it out.”

1st Year

155 cm

Specialty: Kendo, household chores

The only 1st year student at the Velder High kendo club. He started learning kendo since he was a kid, having admired his older sister, a promising kendo champion. He joined Velder High as it was the only school in the area with a kendo club.

He’s never discouraged or intimidated in any situation, which comes off as arrogance at times. However, he trains relentlessly every day, saying that he’s got a long way to go if he wants to catch up to his sister, and he’s never been free of scars for this reason. He spends most of his time at the kendo club when he’s not in class.

He’s gotten several warnings for carrying around his practice wooden sword around everywhere which did little to deter him. He’s become more cautious about it though, and tries to not get caught. Despite his clumsy and reckless tendencies, he’s surprisingly good at household chores. He can be brutally honest at times, but he is just inexperienced at expressing his feelings and means no harm.

Aisha

“I told you not to run in the classroom!  Ugh, these idiots!”

1st Year

157 cm

Specialty: Nagging, magic (?)

A class president who’s never missed 1st place in the school ranking.

She’s managed to maintain her image as a bookworm since entering the Velder High, but according to the rumors, she levitates brooms with magic to clean when no one is watching. Other rumors say that she left some problem students midair 100m off the ground overnight to “correct” their behaviors. It’s been widely speculated that might be the reason why there is not a single student who doesn’t grow quiet in front of Aisha, even the most problematic students.

She appears as a Perfect Model Student who lectures others all the time and doesn’t lack a single thing in her life, but even she has a naive, pure side to her; her after school hobbies include reading shoujo manga or romance novels, believing in fairy tales of destined love.

Rena

“Call me if you need any help. I’ll run to you like the wind!”

3rd Year

170 cm

Specialty: Archery, tending plants

Velder High Student Council President, who’s always kind to everyone. She is trusted by all with her innocent smile and heartfelt sincerity.

She doesn’t hesitate to help anyone in need. As kind she is, she is also known to be merciless to wrongdoers. According to the school legend continued to this day, a student messing around at the flowerbed was soon found kneeling before her and begging for forgiveness.

She’s incredibly athletic, and many sports team have tried to recruit her but to no avail. She shows up every once in a while at the archery club, but otherwise she spends most of her time for the student council. She claims she suits looking after plants instead, but not many students believe that as she is the first one to run over to land a flying kick to those who cause problems at the school.

Raven

“...If that’s what you really want, then I’ll take you on.”

3rd Year

184 cm

Specialty: Leading people

In the past, he was the ace player at the kendo club, but had to leave all that behind due to unknown circumstances. At one point, he was the leader of an infamous student gang which was involved in several incidents.

He had spent a lot of his earlier days in the dark, but he was able to turn his life around somehow. He’s left the gang completely and cleaned off his dark past. He would love nothing better than to just spend his days in peace now, but he often ends up getting involved in unwanted fights with other students. It’s usually because people mistake his scars and his bluntness as hostility, not to mention those who wish to challenge him because of his infamous reputation in the past.

Recently, he’s been visiting the kendo club from time to time to spar with younger students.

For reasons unknown, he has bandages on his left arm at all times. Apparently, he never takes it out of his pocket. As the rumor goes, he only takes it out during a fight, but since no one has lived to tell the tale, its actual appearance remains a mystery.

Eve

“...How rude. Please be respectful at school.”

1st Year

167 cm

Specialty: Designing and inventing robotics

A mysterious transfer student. Cynical and refined, she is nicknamed “Her Majesty the Queen” by her fellow classmates ever since she slapped Elsword on her first day of school when he destroyed her precious inventions.

She has strange devices on her forehead and ears, but it’s absolutely forbidden to ask her about them. She shows extraordinary talent in robotic engineering; she’s even borrowed an entire facility of the science club to develop robotics in her spare time. Perhaps due to her past trauma of Elsword wrecking her creations, the security system is known to be a bit over the top.

She displays affection to her creations, more than she does to humans, but seeing how she can be beyond cold to other creations that does not meet her standards, maybe not all of her creations equally deserve her affection.

Chung

“Hello, everyone! Nice to meet you!”

1st Year

155 cm

Specialty: Cello, academics

Thanks to his excellent grades and polite manners, he was referred to the vice president position of the student council, despite being only a 1st year student. Both the teachers and students alike love this model student because of his positive personality, never hesitating to help anyone in trouble.

He doesn’t quite know what to do with the fact that he’s getting confessed frequently by male students because they mistake his pretty looks. He is especially good at playing the cello, and carries it around despite his small stature.

He attends Velder High as a part of his lesson to be the successor of his family’s business while his father is abroad.

Ara

“KYAAAA! I’m late!”

2nd Year

168 cm

Specialty: Calligraphy

She grew up in a strict household, where she learned to be respectful and courteous to others. Unfortunately, all the grace and refinement she’s learned goes out the window, because she makes frequent mistakes thanks to her innate clumsiness.

Being exceptionally talented in all things athletic, she tried join several sports clubs. However, she either got the rules confused or destroyed the facility due to her immense strength. She gave up eventually, but she accepted other’s suggestion to be a cheerleader instead and has been cheering everyone since. Her pure and innocent smile is her trade mark, making her fairly popular at the school, even though she herself is not aware of it.

The stray cat(?) she found one day doesn’t want to leave her side, and tries to get inside her bag every morning she gets ready to go to school. There’s a rumor going around saying that her older brother has made friends with the wrong crowd and became a core member of a gang. She’s worried because she had tried to contact him many times, but cannot reach him.

Elesis

“It’s important for students to continue to train themselves.”

2nd Year

163 cm

Specialty: Kendo

The captain of the kendo club, head of the student disciplinary committee.

When she catches anyone trying to climb over the fence to ditch school, she chases after them in a flash. It’s almost impossible to run away from her.

She didn’t get to spend much time at home, because she was always busy with kendo competitions since she was a child. She’s won numerous awards from world championships, but for some reason she’s left all that behind and currently attends Velder High as a normal student. Judging from how much she cherishes her younger brother, who is in the same kendo club as her, a rumor says that she quit being a champion just for him.

Add

“Hmph, what are you going to do with the fact that my name is ‘Add’?”

2nd Year

168 cm

Specialty: Disassembling and modifying machines

A problem student who has trouble getting along with his classmates because of his personality, but he is a genius; he’s often the top of his class. He is targeting a core blueprint that Eve supposedly has for his own personal agenda. 

According to the rumors,he is a son of a world-renowned family of scientists who have invented many incredible things in the past, but apparently due to unknown circumstances he's left the family and is currently living by himself. 

He's able to pay the tuition with the vice principal’s support, but it seems like he’s always on a tight budget. Sometimes you can catch him at the grocery shop during timed sale. Despite his cold exterior, he seems interested in animals as he can be seen spending his time observing cats near the school.

Ciel

“I’ve baked some cookies. Want to try them?”

3rd Year

188 cm

Specialty: Gunnery, butler activity(?), baking

An ex-core member of an infamous gang. He was forced to transfer to a different school with Lu after an incident.

He secretly looks after Lu so she wouldn't get caught up in trouble. He's known as her personal butler because of this, but he doesn't seem to mind his new nickname.

Although he looks distant and serious, he loves cute things; he carries around little trinkets of plushies on his bag or his phone. You can see him near a toy shop, playing the claw machine with expertise.

He loves to bake and often hands them out to students in the class.

Lu

“I am the Luciela R. Sourcream!”

3rd Year

141 cm

Specialty: Eating desserts

She was one of the leader of an infamous gang from the Demon School.  Betrayed by those she trusted, she was falsely accused of something and was forced to transfer to Velder High. Apparently she’s looking for a chance to get her old position back.

Nowadays she tries to get around quietly without catching any attention, but she ends up catching attention anyways, in a different way, thanks to her cute appearance and bold attitude. She is asked to play a role in the theater club many times because of this, but she rarely gets on the stage because she only wants the good roles.

She hangs out with Ciel who transferred with her, and seems to leave all the annoying tasks to him. She loves sweet desserts, and joined the baking club with Ciel, where she has taken the role of taster, as she is not gifted with baking in any way.

Rose

“I’ve successfully arrived at the school. For the chairman, transferring school is not a problem.”

2nd Year

182 cm

Specialty: Gunnery, repairing and modifying guns

Elite member of a foreign army school. She transferred to Velder High of Elrios to investigate the source of a great disaster that threatens her home country.

Perhaps due to her upbringing in a military family, she is extremely athletic and boasts an outstanding marksmanship. She is especially attached to guns and can be seen secretly taking care of a model gun she carries with her.

Having been trained with a strict military education, she can be harsh with herself when it comes to training and self-disciplining. She carries around bag with the weight of a full gear that soldiers normally carry. She also eats battle-ready rations like jerky or energy bars for meals, and is always ready for battle. Her soldier-like tendencies surprise people but it doesn’t look like she is aware of it.

Ain

“I’m a bit busy right now. Can you come to the student council room if you have a business with me?”

3rd Year

182 cm

Specialty: Can do whatever he puts his mind to

The scribe of the student council, who deals everything with composure and a soft smile.

Separate from his student council duties, he’d volunteered to be the manager of the kendo club. He visits 1st year classes quite often, under the pretext of supporting the young 1st class club member. He appears to be closer with the 1st year students than students of his own class.

He frequently calls in sick due to an accident he was involved in before he started attending the school. He can be seen taking classes at the 1st year class the next day. It’s very unusual, but strangely he doesn’t draw enough attention so he gets called out on it very rarely.

He’s always smiling and no one has seen him making any other expression. He can be brutally honest without any regard for other’s feelings, but it doesn’t seem like he himself thinks it’s particularly big problem.

Perhaps he is religious seeing how he performs certain actions before lunch.

https://imgur.com/a/c6C8H

#im free #save me #how do I even tag this #elsword translation #velder high #dating sim #lmao #fuck #good luck finding this in the future #future me #im sorry i took so long #it's fking #2183 words long #cries #i hate the korean language