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delimeful · 4 years

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Community Gardens

this is a donation drive commission for @htmlfroggy! based on the prompt: platonic intrulogical g/t & the song ‘community gardens’ by the scary jokes! this is my first time trying a songfic, so i hope its good!

warnings: remus and all the vaguely squicky things he says, illness, misunderstandings, small mentions of body horror

Full disclosure, I am a monster A creature of despair, not that that should be a cause for concern If there's one thing I've learned in all my years here It's that despair is less abundant in those who understand How to plant their hearts in community gardens

Logan first met his best friend because he was investigating rumors of a human lurking around the border of his forest.

He had his doubts, of course; ever since he’d personally visited every human settlement on the perimeter of his woods, the ritual sacrifices done to ‘appease the monsters’ had quickly come to a halt, and the amount of angry humans out for vengeance had dropped concurrently.

When he gently pushed past the boughs of the saplings marking the border, however, there was indeed a human crouched on the ground, seemingly buried up to his elbows in mud. They looked up at Logan’s approach, and the giant was prepared for a number of reactions to his presence. Swearing, screaming, slumping over in a dead faint.

Plenty had responded to him like this in the past, and plenty more certainly would in the future. It came with being a monstrous giant.

The human offering him a slightly unhinged grin and a mud-slinging wave wasn’t one of the responses he had prepared for.

As such, his reply was uncharacteristically tentative, as though his voice would snap the human out of the peaceable trance they were in. “...Greetings. I am Logan, denizen of this forest. I’m here to inquire into what you’re doing here at the edge of the woods.”

“Ooh, an interrogation!” The human didn’t stand, craning their neck back at a painful-looking angle to see him properly. “What if I don’t want to say, huh? Are you gonna grind me into bone meal under your heel?”

Logan blinked. The fear that normally would accompany such words was still completely absent. “No. I will not be harming you unless you move to harm those under my protection.”

The human sighed, almost disappointed. “Yeah, I didn’t take you for the type. Oh, well, guess we’re both leaving unsatisfied then.”

Logan waited a moment longer, and then sighed lowly, before lowering himself to sit amongst his trees. The human cocked an eyebrow, looking as though another inappropriate comment was on the tip of his tongue.

“If you don’t wish to explain yourself, then I will be supervising your excursions as the guardian of these woods,” Logan announced, sure that his cold gaze would at least give the strange human some pause.

Of course, because they seemed to delight in proving his assumptions wrong, the human just stared for a moment before a wide, enthusiastic smile spread over his face.

Logan sighed again, and steadfastly ignored the bright flare of curiosity the human had sparked in him. Most likely, they were simply a thrill-seeker, looking for an adventure like all the epics humans told about interacting with giants. Surely, they’d grow bored soon enough.

You'll be fine, you honeycomb Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? You'll be fine, oh honey pie Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind?

“Who did it?”

The half-growl in Remus’ voice was enough that his gaze was immediately drawn away from the Lewisia cotyledon that he had been carefully coaxing root rot from.

His unruly human acquaintance had apparently gotten closer while he was distracted, abandoning his small plot of freshly-turned soil and haphazard seedlings. It was a break from their typical engagement, where Logan remained in the treeline and Remus remained rooted in his strange, barely-edible ‘vegetable garden’ as they talked.

“What do you mean?” he replied once he’d processed the strange question. “Is something amiss?”

“Is your brain made of stone?” Remus shot back sharply, and Logan’s eyebrows drew together automatically at the insult. The human barely seemed to notice, thankfully. “Of course something’s amiss, you’re bleeding out all over the place!”

He pointed emphatically, and Logan realized what the human was so up in arms about even as he turned to look. On his left side, stretched over his ribs, a long gash was slowly trickling sap-like ichor. The wound had been mostly hidden by his left arm, but in turning to focus on a new plant, he must have accidentally displayed it to the human. “Ah. Do not be alarmed, it’s a shallow wound and will scab over shortly--”

Remus waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t insult me, I know that much from the look of it alone! What I don’t know is: Who. Did. It?”

Logan frowned briefly. He wasn’t sure why the human wanted to know, but he certainly wasn’t in the habit of denying anyone information. “I wasn’t informed of their name. A Jorōgumo sought sanctuary, which I granted, and approximately half a day later, a human mercenary attempted to breach the forest borders.”

“And you killed the bastard?” Remus asked expectantly. Logan couldn’t help the minute flinch that traveled through him, the way his face shuttered back to cold neutrality. He’d thought… It didn’t matter. It was his own fault for believing that the man saw him in any other way.

“No. I warded the forest against them with a bit of their blood. Once they realize the wards are impenetrable, I believe they will move on to an easier bounty.”

“Not if I get to them first,” Remus replied cheerily, spinning his slightly-rotted wooden trowel in his hand. Logan felt a thrum of alarm at the idea of him getting in an altercation with a mercenary, though he wasn’t sure why. If two outsiders got in a fight, it was technically out of his jurisdiction.

“You most certainly will not attempt to hinder their departure,” he said firmly. “It would be detrimental to all parties involved.”

Remus visibly pouted, before sighing and throwing the trowel at the ground hard enough to half-bury it. “Fine, Beanstalk, but at least let me—“

He stepped forwards, even closer, and Logan stiffened, all-too-aware of how small the human was compared to him. “What are you doing?”

His voice came out slightly shriller than normal, and Remus jerked to a stop instantly, glancing up at him before turning his head away, something in his expression dropping.

“I was just… nothing. Forgot for a second,” he muttered, bringing his hand up to inspect his dirt-encrusted nails. He continued before Logan could ask what exactly he’d forgotten that had prompted such a bitter expression. “Anyways, I’m sure you’re tired of babysitting, so I’m heading back. Seeya, Colossus.”

Logan watched as Remus whistled off-tune as he turned away, his shoulders drawn just slightly too-tight, and felt as though he’d missed something important.

The culmination of man's mistakes came the day The sun ran so hot, it turned the desert to glass If there's something to be learned from all these losers It's that the price that you pay For arrogance and a false sense of immunity Is to face the wrath of a dying star

For the next few moon cycles, Remus barely appeared at their-- his makeshift garden, and when he did, he was simultaneously more subdued and twitchier than usual. He almost always left early.

Logan knew, logically, that he should be glad for this development. The human’s basic survival instincts had clearly finally kicked in, and he was distancing himself appropriately from a monster. It was what he’d been expecting from the beginning, and better that it had happened now rather than go on any longer, what with how… worked up he was over it.

Ridiculous. He sighed through his nose and turned away from the cluster of bleeding Hydnellum he’d found, attempting to force his thoughts away from the human and what his reaction to such a unique-looking mushroom specimen would have been. He needed to focus on his duties as the curator of these woods.

However, it seemed fate had other ideas, for it was only a few groves later that he was called upon by a Hamrammr, Alda, who had been wearing the form of a large wood grouse for the past few seasons.

“I have news on your human,” she said, and her tone was urgent enough that Logan forewent reminding her that Remus was not ‘his’ human. “One of my flock saw him dragged into a town jail two days past, and he hasn’t emerged since.”

Logan attempted to ignore his quickening heartbeat. He couldn’t jump to conclusions. “Which town?”

Alda watched him keenly for a moment. “The populous one to the northeast of our territory. Be careful, Curator. You know the laws of these woods apply to even you.”

Logan nodded sharply, and then was moving. Once he reached the fields between his woods and the human settlement, he took a deep breath to clear his mind. Barging into the humans’ space like this would hardly be appropriate, seeing as he worked to keep them from doing the very same to him.

Instead, he folded in on himself like a withering plant, ignoring the painful cracking of wood and bone as he took on a smaller form. A simple glamor to match, and he didn’t receive a second glance as he walked the streets as an average traveler.

An average traveler could find someone willing to gossip easily enough. And if Remus would fear him less in a reduced form, that was just a completely unintentional bonus.

“Criminals? We don’t have many here, and none with a valuable bounty.”

“Really? I believed I heard whispers of a recent arrest,” Logan replied, completely truthfully.

The shopkeep waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, yes, the resident cursebearer was found guilty of conspiring with the beasts of the enchanted wood to try and bring destruction upon our humble town, but as I said, no bounty--”

“The denizens of the woods are forbidden from attacking nearby towns,” Logan recited automatically, his mind racing. Remus was a cursebearer? The practice of directing all the magical and non-magical curses of a town onto one individual was archaic, barbaric, and… explained a lot about Remus’s behavior, actually. There was a strange pit in his stomach at the thought.

“That’s what the giant told everyone, but how are we to really trust the word of a monster? Besides, the cursebearer was witnessed haunting the edges of the woods, speaking with that very giant!” Logan kept his face carefully neutral as the shopkeep shook his head. “It’s just too suspicious. He could have struck a deal, could already be one of those beasts at this point, and he spent enough time dragging filth through our streets as it is. Good riddance, I say.”

The shopkeep broke off as he turned away, hiding the crack in his expressionless mask. Logan barely heard the resulting questions as he walked away with sharp steps.

The next morning, the town woke to the sight of half the jail’s roof torn clean off, and one very distinctive prisoner missing.

You'll be fine, you honeycomb Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? You'll be fine, oh honey pie Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind?

Logan carefully cradled the human’s limp form in one hand, seated in their usual spot at the edge of the woods. He hadn’t expected to be so obvious in his retrieval of Remus, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, either.

When he’d successfully infiltrated the jail, he’d been subject to an embarrassing lack of control over his magic at the sight of Remus. The human had been barely-conscious, wrists shackled to the wall of his cell and a sickly pallor to his skin. It looked as though what little he’d been fed had been expunged in fits of sickness.

Worst of all, he’d managed to focus on Logan’s frozen form after a moment, and a haphazard expression of delight had spread across his face. “Itty bitty Logan,” he slurred feverishly, “man, did I die al’rdy? Good. Missed ya.”

Logan’s grip on his shapeshift had snapped as though he was a youngling again, and somewhere between caving the ceiling in and rusting the cuffs away, Remus had fallen back to unconsciousness. Even now, as the sun rose, he was uncannily still, only the rasps of each shallow breath proving his life intact.

“I’m unsure what to do,” Logan confessed, studying Remus’s frame. The human was so small without his usual exuberant gesturing. His wrists oozed where the manacles had been, human flesh scabbing over so much slower than Logan’s would have. “I cannot abide the thought of sending you back to live with people who treat you like that, but to bring you into the woods would bind you to them in a way that could not be undone. Bind you to me in a way that could not be undone. I doubt you’d want that.”

“Are you… stupid?”

Logan jolted at the voice, mocking but almost a whisper for how loud it was. “Remus?”

The human was squinting up at him, and even those few words sent him into a fit of coughing. Logan hurriedly drew morning dew up from the nearest saplings and pressed the liquid to Remus’s lips.

“Don’t waste energy,” he chided; Remus flipped him off. “I apologize for… handling you while you were unconscious, but we cannot waste time. You are seriously ill, and need treatment. Do you have anyone who can provide it? Cost is no obstacle.”

Remus snorted audibly, and opened his mouth for a heartbeat before his face pinched in with resulting pain. He shook his head with an eye roll. Logan tried not to feel frustration at his friend’s lackadaisical attitude towards his own health, and failed.

“This is not a joke, Remus! If you don’t get immediate treatment, your only options will be making a contract with my forest, or death.”

Remus held up a finger.

“First option,” he croaked. “Stone for brains.”

Logan was rendered speechless for a short moment, his fingers curling up around the human. “Wh— Remus, you can’t give up on human treatment so rashly. A contract will change you. You’d be, for lack of a better term, stuck with me until you made a full recovery and paid back the debt at the very least.”

Remus hacked out something that might have been another insult to Logan’s intelligence, and he held up his pointer finger more emphatically. “First option. We’re— ‘m your friend. Not scared of you, big fucking nerd. That’s my final word… maybe liter’lly.”

And because he was as dramatic as he was vulgar, Remus chose that moment to let his eyes roll back in his head.

His heartbeat loud in his ears, Logan took a deep breath, pushed all of his concerns and doubts aside, and stepped into the woods.

The years have been hard on this lonely heart If you wanna know the truth There's no more community gardens So I guess I'll have to settle for you

“I don’t get it,” Remus mentioned one afternoon, watching Logan finish the last touches of a seal for a dryad’s lightning wound. “If you didn’t know I was a cursebearer, and you didn’t even end up caring I was a cursebearer anyway, why didn’t you ever let me near you when we hung out?”

Logan pressed the seal into the tree and glanced over at him, sighing with exasperation upon seeing him picking at the turmeric leaves ringed around his healing wrists. At least he couldn’t reach the ones working to repair his lungs.

“You’ll agitate your wounds if you do that,” he chided, reaching over to lift him from the mossy, oversized log he sat on. As always, he hesitated a moment before making contact, and as always, Remus leaned up in advance to greet him, as though being carried in the palm of a giant was not only normal, but also the only form of transportation he’d ever accept.

“Ooh, sounds fun.” Remus grinned mischievously but did indeed stop uprooting the plants embedded in his skin. He laid himself out flat on his back instead, an arm and a leg dangling over the edges of Logan’s curled hand, uncaring of the cool forest air rushing past him as Logan walked. “You still haven’t answered my question, though.”

“I’m not sure I fully understand it. You’re asking why I didn’t physically interact with you, before, but I believe the answer is obvious.” Logan adjusted his woven sleeve cuff absently. “I simply… found your company enjoyable and didn’t wish to scare you off, I suppose.”

He waited for the typical laughter that came whenever he implied that maybe Remus should be wary around him, since he was by most human definitions, a literal giant monster. It didn’t come.

Instead, Remus’s face was scrunched up in thought. “So… it was because you wanted to keep being friends. And not because you thought I was gross, or repellant, or better off as juicy blood mulch, or--”

“If anyone wants to mulch you, Remus,” Logan interrupted neatly, “they will have to go through me first.”

“...Not if I get to them first,” Remus responded, a slow grin building on his face. “Since we’re friends and all.”

“That completely counteracts the point of my protection, but yes,” Logan said, a small smile of his own finding its way onto his face, “we certainly are.”

#sanders sides #platonic intrulogical #g/t #donation drive #ts logan #ts remus #songfic #alt title: two bros sitting in the woods five ft apart cuz theyre 'monsters'#logan may have the brain cell but he certainly doesnt have a high EQ lol #writing #my writing #commissioned works #htmlfroggy

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alder-reid · 3 years

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Part II.

Thomas.

They let him out of the room only after he was quiet for a few consecutive hours and malleable with the devastation he was soaking in.

He was led to a small room at the back of the Peacekeeper station, occupied only by two chairs and a table between them. There was a single, long fluorescent light overhead, coloring the room with a clinical, harsh white glow. He was given orders, something he was getting used to. Stay calm. Stay put. Drink this.

His attention only returned when Felix walked into the room. Alder had always respected him. Felix had every trait he envied-- even keeled, principled, certain in his decisions. Alder often wondered if he even had it in him to stay as calm as Felix did in the face of crisis, and often thought to himself he’d make a far better Games mentor than Alder could ever be. He was practical right down to his close-cropped haircut, and something about his graying hair and lines around his eyes inclined Alder to trust his experience.

Today, however, not even Felix’s usual steady presence was calming the storm raging in him. “Why aren’t we going after him?” he demanded immediately, standing so suddenly the water in his glass sloshed over the sides and onto his hands.

“Alder--”

“They took him!”

“They took several--” “So we have to get them back!”

“I know you’re ang--”

“Hell yes I’m angry!”

A terse moment of silence stretched between them, only broken by the dull thud of Alder’s heart in his ears and his quick breaths filling the space between them.

Felix then sat, slowly, gesturing for Alder to do the same. When it became evident Alder wouldn’t do that, he continued with a sigh.

“I’m sorry about what happened to Maverick. We all are. We have every reason to believe that he’s alive, but it’s because he has information and they can keep him hostage. For you. It’s to walk you into a trap.” Felix sternly peered over his nose at him.

Alder stared back, mouth open to rebuke this, but he was right, wasn’t he? Suddenly, he felt stupid. He was reacting exactly how they wanted him to, and hell, he was still pissed enough about it that he wasn’t even sure he cared that he was playing into their hands.

“Great, so we can use that to our advantage. What the fuck are we going to do about it?” he snapped back finally, unsatisfied with Felix’s sympathies and logic.

“Sit,” Felix insisted again.

“I’m not going to fucking--”

“-- Please sit, and we’ll talk.”

With a huff, Alder dropped down into the chair to appease him. Only because he prioritized knowing how they were getting Maverick back more than proving a point by standing.

“Like I said, he was certainly taken alive. Someone like Maverick they’d be far too careful to let die, at least not in such a… pedestrian way.”

Alders stomach clenched into tight knots, knowing fully the preferred method for that avenue would be public execution. He had to close his eyes for a moment at the roll of nausea accompanying an intrusive vision of Maverick on the steps of the Tower, just like last summer.

“But,” Felix said, trying to catch Alder’s gaze again. “But it means we have time. It means that we can continue with our mission, and doubtless he’s in the Capitol as we move through the plans here. We have intel on where high profile rebels are being held. His best chance is our success here, in Two, in the next days and weeks.”

Alder blinked in disbelief. “You’re suggesting we leave him there,” he realized in horror, eyes wide. “You’re suggesting we let them all stay there.”

“Yes,” he replied patiently, though with no joy. “I am. Anything else is suicide. To us and to the cause. We’re so close.”

“How can you can fucking live with this?” Alder spat back. “They’ll torture them. Kill some of them. You know that.”

Felix’s expression fell almost imperceptibly, just enough for a glimmer of sadness to glint behind his eyes before returning to normal. “We have all made sacrifices. I’m sorry. Maverick knew this was a possibility when he joined, just as you did. You need to accept that we can’t help him. He wouldn’t want you to.”

“You’re wrong,” Alder snarled. He stood very suddenly, slamming the glass down on the table beside him. It landed on its edge, tipping and spilling its contents before tumbling to the ground and shattering at their feet. Cold water soaked into his shoes. “You don’t know a single fucking thing about Maverick, and you’re wrong.”

“Maybe. However, I’m the commander, so it’s my decision, and my risk to assume” said Felix, unperturbed. “It’s not a bloodless process. But this is how we win. This is how we end all of this. This is how you get justice for what happened to your family, for what happened to you, Alder.”

The evenness in his voice, his cool logic only grated more at Alder’s nerves. He wanted Felix to scream back at him, give him the fight he wanted. “Fuck you. Whatever,” he muttered, tearing open the door and storming down the hallway, leaving Felix alone with a shattered glass and wet tile floor.

***

Felix must have permitted his release, because from there he was allowed to freely move about the Peacekeeper station with the rest of the rebels. Maybe he thought some routine would soothe him. Maybe he thought if he socialized, he might feel better. Maybe the idea was that limiting his privileges would only piss him off more.

Whatever the reasoning, when they rationed dinner in what looked like a staff kitchen, he took a spot alone in the corner of the room.

Without Maverick there, he felt like a ghost. All he could think about was where he was now, what they might be doing to him. Whether he was still alive for any of that to matter at all.

There were other ghosts in the room too, picking at their meals, isolated from the conversations around them. To the rest of the group they were invisible, but to Alder it was as if they were spotlighted. Their expressions shared the pain of loss and unknown that was scooping out his insides until there was seemingly nothing left, except it dug and dug and dug for more.

Appetite something near nonexistent, he wordlessly gave his tray of food to the nearest table and left.

Thoughts of Maverick tortured, captive, hurt kept gnawing at him as he was given a bedroll and free range to claim his corner during first watch. As ridiculous as it was, he missed Trouble horribly as he lay there in the dark, trying to grapple with the fact that his worst nightmare had manifested. He had, in fact, ruined Maverick’s life too. Trouble felt like the only being in this world that might not judge him for all of the missteps that had allowed this to happen, if only for being too stupid to know. He suspected if Trouble could count his sins, he’d leave him too. He closed his eyes and tried to find sleep. His body and mind were exhausted, but the pain in his chest and the vision of Maverick on the Tower steps behind a firing squad of Peacekeepers kept him awake. When the time came for his shift for watch, he was relieved.

Ten days dragged on to the cadence of fighting, meals, watch shifts, terrible sleep. The Captiol tried to bomb out the building twice, but it did little more than shake it-- it seemed that it was fortified against that very kind of attack, and infiltration had never been considered. As the days marched on, Alder became more and more restless, itching for forward momentum. He spent his free time trying to force his mind to invent solutions, ways he could get to wherever Maverick was and break him out. They all seemed to dead end at Felix’s words: You need to accept that we can’t help him. He wouldn’t want you to.”

Strategy meetings occurred daily, continued to wander into territories he felt conflicted about. They needed to take this hospital through violent force, yes. But it was crucial to breaking a central Capitol communication network and saving their own injured. Or there might be casualties in a residential area if the timing worked out wrong, but it would separate Capitol and Thirteen forces to double their chances of success. It was a game of weakening the Capitol by cutting off the lines that fed them, clothed them, defended them one by one by one, and in Two it was more important than anywhere else, meaning there was less room for moral questioning. He told himself, over and over again, what Maverick had said to him on the bathroom floor when he confessed about what had happened to Olympia’s mother. We live in a bad world and you’re trying to make it better. Success wouldn’t come without some destruction and death, not when the Capitol dealt in guns and soldiers. They’d only keep killing more children in the Games if they didn’t stop them, quitting now wasn’t bloodless either.

So he tried to not question. Not hesitate. Follow commands. He helped take the streets, the hospital. He tried to not remember the terrified look in the eyes of doctors, nurses, civilians as they stared at him, wide eyed and hands high as he stepped into rooms over the bodies of the innocent. Alder wasn’t used to being looked at with so much fear, it made him want to drop the weapon and rip his mask off and scream It’s only me, it’s just me, I won’t hurt anyone, I could never.

But that wasn’t really true, was it?

He’d been summoned the morning after the hospital’s capture for another strategy talk. He’d expected it to be the routine debrief but when he entered the room it was occupied with the appointed heads of each squad rather than his peers. Immediately suspicious, he hovered in the doorway as if preparing to run, eyes flitting face to face, eventually landing on Felix. “What is this?” he asked. “A promotion.” Felix gestured to the empty seat at the table. “Join us.”

#part ii. thomas #126 #self para #ft. maverick #at-home #ah126

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atomicfilm · 4 years

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what do you think of INFPxINTP?

Note: when I use the term relationships I don’t only mean romantic ones.

Also, all types can make it work if they’re willing to. INTPs in particular tend to collect diverse people to keep themselves entertained with multiple perspectives.

You can skip to the “What I Like” section at the bottom if you want to as it functions as a summary.

In my opinion, most of my closest friends and family are INFPs. This is a pairing I really like for the most part. I think intellectually, INTPs and INFPs are quite similar, although INFPs approach problems in a way that INTPs often find to be quite annoying which is that they are often very biased towards one outcome, even if it’s not very logical, because they are sentimental towards it. This sensitivity is not in itself a bad quality and I often admire it, except it can spell trouble for INFPs if they rely too much on their heart's desires. I find this typically leads them into a lot of toxic relationships and eventually, they have so many that they tend to abstain from relationships completely for long periods of time. I don’t know many other INTPs, but I abstain from relationships because someone isn’t the right fit for me and I can tell it’s going to go south very early on. INFPs, unfortunately, tend to ignore too many red flags and often end up heartbroken. They’re not to blame, the world is just crueler than they want it to be and they tend to get caught up in daydreams.

WHAT I DON’T LIKE:

A few things that annoy me about INFPs is that sometimes they rely on me too much. My mother, for example, asks my opinion on everything. Should I buy this house? Should I make this career move? Should I date this person? Should I go to this church? Should I purchase this car? Ect. ect. She asks me every possible question she can for my opinion and then if I tell it to her, she usually ends up ignoring it anyway. We both annoy each other in that we’re both very flaky when it comes to decision making. She’s flaky in that she doesn’t really care if a decision makes sense. For example, right now she is trying to start a coaching business and wanted my help choosing which seminars she should make. She wanted to do something along the lines of “How to be Your Authentic Self” and I said that was fine but people were likely only going to buy such classes if she taught them how to make money from it or improve their relationships. It had to have an end goal, or most people wouldn’t see the point.

Because of this, I believe she doesn’t really like my advice style. It’s often too blunt and I won’t fake my support if I don’t agree with something. In return, I expect the same. However, when I am supportive, you know it’s genuine and I personally make sure to make it obvious that I’m proud of people.

I’m flaky in that I tend to make a decision from the beginning and then alter it as I go along and am provided with new information, which can also be a source of frustration for INFPs at times, even if they are the same way. INFPs tend to be more of follower types whereas INTPs are truly independent and don’t really want to boss people around. The phrase “that’s your decision to make” will likely come up often.

If you’re searching for a lot of emotional comfort, INTPs aren’t often your best bet. If you’re sad, you can likely expect someone awkwardly patting you on your back and trying to find you a blanket or comfort food. Sweet words of encouragement will only come with practice. This is Fe, Fe can be developed and in my case, I’ve put in the work on it because I think in terms of social standing, Fe is the easiest way to improve myself. Oddly enough, I learned the most about Fe from mimicking a peculiar ENTP because handling emotions is a very foreign process to me, despite being surrounded by feelers. I’m not sure what people expect from me unless they tell me.

From the INFP perspective, they give and give and give and give. And they do, they usually are extremely generous people, whether it be with their time, money, or emotions. An INFP may become frustrated if they do not feel like their efforts are being returned in full. This is a high expectation for INTPs who usually do whatever they want to when they want to. That being said, sometimes INFPs can be selfish when it comes to listening to my problems because they don’t expect me to need their comfort. My dog is currently in surgery and it’s possible she might die. When we were at the hospital, the only thing my mom said was “this is going to be expensive” and I was the one bawling uncontrollably. With INTPs, when Fi hits, it’s something we really don’t know how to cope with very well so we get overwhelmed and INFPs, despite all of their empathy, aren’t so good with Fe. She did manage to cheer me up by saying Jesus in Czech over and over again in really ridiculous ways so I wouldn’t call her a lost cause, I just wanted her to be crying with me in that moment. Also, INFPs can kind of dominate conversations when it comes to talking about how you BOTH are doing, but I think this is because most people leave them deeply unsatisfied attention-wise.

Anxious INFPs ruin me. I cannot handle your anxiety on top of my anxiety. Give me a moment to decide my next move. Don’t ask me what it is. I’ll say it when it’s developed.

Unhealthy INFPs are also extremely sensitive and turbulent. I would say the only type as toxic as an unhealthy INFP is an unhealthy ENFP. They become moody and a strange mix of aggression, manipulation, and self-focused. A lot of that comes from Fi. Unhealthy INTPs become complete ghosts. They flicker out of existence. Depression tends to be a major issue in both types.

WHAT I DO LIKE:

I love INFPs because they’re one of the few types that understand what INTPs need. Yes, they are demanding emotionally and there are bound to be complications because of that, but for the most part they’re worth it. They make me feel something and at their best, they are some of the most idealistic, moral, creative, and cheerleader-like personalities. They show up. Where most people won’t come through, they will, except in areas that don’t align with their passions. They may be flighty or reclusive at times, but they make up for it by having high Ne and teaching INTPs about how to be a generally good person. INTPs at their worst detach from their compassion and their emotional side and a healthy level of correction to this instinct is much needed by the INTP from the INFP. I would say INFPs also need INTPs to some extent to guide them. Also, while INFPs have low Te, Te is something I admire because it’s nice for getting a different perspective. And gosh diddly darn it, have you ever met someone with Ne who wasn’t hilarious?

Generally speaking, I think ISFPs, ISFJs, INFJs, INFPs, and ENTPs all are the best pairings for INTPs as friends. I like ENFPs a lot too, but I always have toxic relationships with them that involve a lot of fights. Fights with INFPs tend to either absolutely never happen (one of my best friends is an INFP and I haven’t fought with her once in the past 4 yrs.) or if they happen they go something like this:

INTP: I don’t like you very much.

INFP: FINE, I DON’T LOVE YOU, I’M NEVER GOING TO TALK TO YOU.

INTP: I was joking.

INFP: STOP TALKING TO ME.

INTP: Yeah, okay, I’m sorry, that wasn’t a good joke, I love you.

INFP, 5 minutes later: Okay, I’ve cooled down, I love you too.

It’s usually INTPs who instigate and then INFPs escalate it. INTPs aren’t usually intentionally fighting with people so those kinds of fights end in a few minutes.

I think INTPs will fall for any INFP quickly, and that will probably make them uncomfortable. An INTP may not want to pursue a romantic relationship with an INFP if they think it will become overly emotional, which it’s quite possible it will. But the good thing is that once an INTP commits to something, they are unlikely to give up on it easily and this is a source of comfort to INFPs. Plus, INFPs (and also ISFPs) are skilled at drawing out the INTP’s soft side which they secretly like.

I would say that as long as it’s healthy, an INFP x INTP relationship is one of the most beautiful and long-lasting of them all. The most important thing to focus on here would be communicating your feelings often and directly, but also providing the INTP with a bit of help. Tell them why you feel this way, whether you like this feeling, and what you would like for them to do. They may not be able to pick up on that on their own unless you have known each other for years. Also, to appease the INTP, try to find a common intellectual pursuit, even if it’s something as simple as listening to NPR in the car together or making a two-person book club. While INFPs aren’t really boring per se, they can become dull if they don’t stimulate the INTP’s brain enough and focus too much on small talk, routine obsessions, or debating with obviously biased information.

#infp #intp #infp x intp #intp x infp

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julianim · 3 years

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I am on living with focus on life

I am a minimalist, and I aspire to become one. I know this because when confronted by a problem I still ask what things I need to resolve this. I am a consumer, as I have been trained to be. A consumer is a hole that defines itself by its emptyness. My driving force is a need to fill this hole. A part of me that I have not been able to communicate with still believes that enough of the right things will fill this hole. It is appeased by the attempt but ultimately unsatisfied with the result. Its nature is to consume, and having done so to be forever empty.

The minimalist I hope to be has achieved sufficiency. Having found enough he is motivated by the reality outside himself. Having acknowledged that his flesh will soon pass away he will find a way to use it to grow something greater. To me a minimalist tries to become less in himself so he can give more of what remains.

For me, living a minimalist life means like this: 7am get up 8am finished my breakfast 8am-11.30 working as a consultant 11.30am-2am have a rest 2pm-6pm Work 6pm-8pm have relax 8pm-10pm work 10.30pm sleep

Becoming a minimalist made me a lot happier, more efficient, less stressed, and gave me more time.

I became a minimalist my senior year of college. It really did change me in a lot of ways.

I got rid of everything I hadn’t used in the past couple of months. I only owned very a little thing. I only kept two paintings that hung on my wall and some photographs to decorate my room.

Becoming a minimalist really did improve so many areas of my life.

My Instagram @focusyourliving

#focusyourliving #minimalism #mindfulness #lifestyle #selfworth #trueself #@focusyourliving

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missfiatlux · 3 years

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Chapter 5

read on reddit

Down in the Nightlife, Plutonium awoke.

“Sir,” said the messenger who had woken him. “I am sorry to report that instead of the two damned souls we were expecting, we have received 108.”

Plutonium’s face transfigured in wrath. “What the hell? Do these people think the Nightlife is some sort of ultra-adaptable cloud cuckoo land? No! I’ve got a fucking schedule to run, budgets to balance, vendors to pay, and various deities to appease! I’m under immense stress, and these Daylife folks think they can just up and die any fucking time? I’m half a mind to turn them away, but noooo, ‘we can’t let dead people wander around through the Daylife, it’s bad for morale.’ Who the fuck cares about the fucking Daylife? Not me!”

Plutonium repeated this rant nearly every day, only varying where he placed the profanity. As such, it had somewhat lost its scariness.

The messenger began again. “Sir, reports say that the change of plans was caused by a single individual, a boy-vampire named Axel Johnston. He caused his car to briefly grow aerofoils and fly over the Grand Canyon. At the same time he caused a plane carrying 108 passengers to spontaneously detach from its wings and fall into the canyon. That’s where most of the damned are from.”

Here was a problem Plutonium could solve. “Put a bounty on Johnston’s head,” he bellowed. “Five hundred million! Dead or alive!”

“Sir, are you sure? This Johnston character seems awfully powerful. Perhaps he can help you regain favor with the gods.” The messenger felt, for the first time, that he was extremely smart.

Plutonium stroked his chin. “Excellent thinking. Make sure it is clear that the bounty will be awarded only if he is captured hale and hearty.”

The messenger nodded and dashed off. Later on that day, signs went up all over the Nightlife, signs with Axel’s face (a creative rendition by the messenger, replete with horns and a mohawk), and information about how to collect the bounty. The souls of the damned observed these signs with interest. Being dead is not all that gripping, after all.

***

Drip. Drip. Drip. Hubcap listened to the persistent dripping of water out of the gutter, as she gazed at a newly posted sign on the wall. Down in the Nightlife, the air always smelled damp, and frequent fogs rolled through. Hubcap had never seen it rain here, but anything that stayed down here long enough would eventually get soaked by condensation. The sign was already wrinkling in the humidity, as was Hubcap’s white tuxedo. Dew was forming on the hellhounds’ slick black fur.

“FIVE HUNDRED MILLION FOR AXEL JOHNSTON, CAPTURED ALIVE,” read the sign. The picture showed a boy with a mohawk and two horns. Hubcap snorted. This was clearly a creation of someone’s fevered imagination. In her years of experience at bounty hunting for the Nightlife, it was quite common for the pictures on the signs to bear little or no resemblance to the person they were aiming to depict. While this initially caused her great confusion, she had now learned to contact Plutonium himself for the necessary details.

Other details about Axel included that he was a vampire, and extremely dangerous. Apparently, he had killed 108 people in a plane crash. This was either exaggerated or completely misrepresented. Hubcap tore the damp sign off the wall and stuffed it in her pocket. “Let’s go,” she said to her three hellhounds. It was time to find Plutonium.

***

“Hubcap, it is good to see you again,” boomed Plutonium. “Here to talk to a dead relative? Want to know your future? Need a divine favor?”

Plutonium knew it was none of these things. It never was. Hubcap was, for someone who had managed to make their way to the Nightlife, surprisingly pragmatic.

Hubcap smiled. “Oh, no. I am here to inquire about this wanted poster for Axel Johnston. This picture is... not an accurate depiction, is it?” She held up the imaginative poster.

“Your killer instincts are correct,” Plutonium said. “My sources say that Axel Johnston is medium height, his hair is brown, and he has vampire teeth.”

“So where is he now?”

“He’s on the move, but I think he’s somewhere in Utah.”

“Great,” said Hubcap, moving to leave. “By the way, you might think about making your wanted posters more helpful. That way you can save time by simply supplying the relevant information upfront.”

Plutonium looked somewhat hurt. “I didn’t know you disliked talking to me that much!”

Hubcap waved dismissively as she left. This was why Plutonium had lost favor with the other gods. He lost his temper frequently, was inefficient, and acted like an incorrigible flirt. Hubcap would bet all the money of the reward that this bounty had something to do with a plot to regain favor with the powers that be.

Still, obtaining the reward would be no easy feat. Axel sounded wily and smart, especially since he was already on the move. Possibly he knew that he was being pursued. In fact, he probably knew that the Nightlife existed, and could be engaging in his own ploy of trying to obtain whatever it was he wanted.

Hubcap tried to think what vampires usually wanted. A lot of them were trying to reclaim their lost kingdoms. It was kind of romantic, really; lots of kids dreamed of discovering a new land, and the urge to recover a lost kingdom seemed like the same kind of impulse for discovery, but transmogrified into something that usually made Plutonium angry, which is where Hubcap came in. Usually she felt no qualms about her vocation, but this newest case reminded her of fear.

***

A long time ago, Hubcap captured a vampire named Talfie Roskov.

Talfie was on Plutonium’s radar because she kept trying to strike deals with him to “liberate” a certain soul from the Nightlife. She brought him valuable objects and offered various services in exchange for one of the damned. Things were a lot more complicated than Talfie seemed to assume, however. First, the damned didn’t have bodies. If they were to be brought back to the Daylife, they would have to be bound to some object or person. Second, all the gods agreed that death was sacrosanct and not to be trifled with. Plutonium, forever trying to curry favor among them, was thus reluctant to help Talfie, no matter how noble her cause seemed to be.

The biggest consideration, however, was that there was no compelling reason to bring any of the damned back to the Daylife. You’d either have to exchange your own soul for their soul (hence becoming one of the damned yourself) or find someone else who was willing to exchange their soul (hence, you losing a dear friend, for who else but a dear friend would give their very soul?) Alternately, you could bind the soul to some inanimate object, but this presented the issue that inanimate objects cannot communicate, and are unsatisfying as companions.

Given these limitations, Talfie was either wholly illogical, or completely misunderstood. It was possible that her reasons for bringing back the dead were far different from what they appeared. When she first heard of the story, Hubcap thought that it was kind of like the classic tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, but what if Talfie, like Hubcap, was just a mercenary?

It didn’t really matter. Talfie eventually got tired of fruitless negotiations, and she snuck in a pack of playing cards. She found the soul that she was looking for, and she performed some rite to bind it to her deck of cards. By the time Plutonium found out, Talfie was long gone.

Chasing Talfie was the thrill of Hubcap’s life. The hellhounds ran, and sniffed, and howled, covering tens of miles of ground a day; Hubcap camped outside, sleeping in shifts with the hounds. At the end of the fifth day of hunting, Hubcap had Talfie cornered in a shabby, abandoned barn.

Hubcap was quite curious what a deck of cards with a soul looked like. So while she cuffed Talfie, she asked to see them.

Wind whistled through the cracked slats of the barn. “You’d know it as soon as you saw it,” said Talfie. “The cards are always warm. They’re ornate, you might think they’re tarot, but they’re not. Some of them have foil on their faces. I don’t know how to describe them, but they look like they’re all from some different, alternate universe, clinging to each other tightly so as not to be alone in a strange land, if you know what I mean. I lost it a long time ago.”

Hubcap shivered, then snapped the handcuffs closed. “Sorry to hear that.” She felt like a cat with a dead bird in her mouth.

***

After taking Talfie to Plutonium, Hubcap went back to her hotel room and dumped a pile of chicken entrails in the bathtub for the hellhounds to eat. She took off her dirty tuxedo jacket and sat on the bed. The excitement of the hunt was quickly dissipating, replaced with a strange, morose drowsiness.

Hubcap had seen Talfie’s deck of cards before. She had, in her own way, unintentionally asked it for a favor. And this favor had been granted. It was to this deck of cards that she owed her hellhounds. Plutonium had never asked her how she’d gotten to the Nightlife, and she hoped he never would. Otherwise she would have to make up a lie… but she was too tired for that now…

***

Hopefully Axel was one of the delusory vampires, the ones whose greatest ambition was a very, very small one, a desire to reclaim rather than make new. If not, well, Hubcap would do her very, very best to avoid getting mixed up with it. She was only into magic for the money.

#heartbreaker #hellhounds #hubcap #bounty hunter #white tuxedo #nightlife #chapter 5

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battlestar-royco · 5 years

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Personally don’t have problem with white heterosexual characters because it is what the author wants but I hate it when authors like sjm takes aspects of other cultures i.e henna and uses it as bargaining tool for characters. What is your stance on that?

I think it depends on how they’re written. I’ve long accepted the fact that most of the media that dominates pop culture is and will be centered around white and straight characters. It’s not that white cishet characters innately bother me; it’s more that they’re in extreme abundance and it’s unfair to everyone else whose representation gets shoved under the rug or completely wrecked with unethical results (ie only casting white women in “feminist” films, leading people to conceptualize women/women’s issues as white, thin, cishet etc; only showing violence against marginalized people in period dramas, leading people to believe we either literally didn’t exist before the 20th century, that Africa is a war-torn wasteland, or that there’s no justification for our existence throughout time unless we’re suffering, etc). Sure, if I start watching 9/10 of Netflix’s (or any major network, really) biggest shows right now, am I going to be tired by the fact that the cast is majority white and cishet except for one minor (probably male) character? Yeah. But I start getting upset when that one token character goes through targeted violence and/or is killed, which, once you start noticing it, happens sooo disproportionately often. We’re at a point where it would be revolutionary to see more than one lead POC on a popular show like Stranger Things or GOT. That’s just pathetic and untrue to real life, and I’d love to see more accurately diverse communities represented.

When it comes to what the author wants to represent, I think that also depends on their track record. With authors like SJ/M, I didn’t really start faulting her for her shit until about H0F/AC0MAF because that was when the books started getting overwhelmingly white and cishet. Like, N/ehemia dying? Very very bad. But every author makes mistakes, and SJ/M’s ~diversity~ at the time was unfortunately pretty average for most YA authors. But S0rscha being beheaded, literally in the next book of the series? Disgusting. Then she dropped AC0MAF and its an entirely white main cast (we’re not gonna get into the I/llyrians today, I don’t have the strength), which had me so shook. The I/nner Circle? Five missed opportunities for POC and/or LGBTQ+ characters. Five missed opportunities to provide us with the new S0rscha or N/ehemia. Her consolation prizes along the way, like T0D, M0r, the Summer Court, etc, are all too little too late. They enter the scene 2/3 into the series, they have been demoted to side characters, and you can feel the gun pointing at Mess’s head as she writes about them. THAT is what I hate: when privileged writers act like it’s such a burden to write about marginalized people and the representation ends up lazy and unsatisfying, when privileged writers don’t even consider our existence until we demand it, when privileged writers have been given loads of chances to fix themselves but they don’t. I don’t expect perfection from any writer, but I do expect people like me to be treated like a human being instead of like a C or D plot they were forced to add to appease a “niche” audience. I expect people to take feedback from critics who know better about diversity.

As for cultural appropriation, that also falls under the umbrella of problematic representation. SJ/M in particular, along with a lot of white authors, wants the aesthetics of POC in her books, but without the POC. She's essentially whitewashing cultures and making them accessible to herself and her majority white (and probably American) audience. That is abhorrent to me. First of all, she has absolutely no claim to anyone’s culture other than her own, and secondly, if she can’t even bother to put us in her books, she doesn’t deserve to inaccurately cherry-pick from our cultures to make her world a cutesy sexy little fantasy. I think in this case I’d literally rather she just write about white people doing their white things than steal names, clothing, cosmetics, customs, and more from marginalized cultures. I don’t know if that answers your question, but TL;DR, I think it’s often hard to separate issues of cultural appropriation from lack of (racial) diversity because they often go hand in hand. Every writer will fuck up a few times, but I also want to see them improve as they write new things. No one is forcing writers to write diversely, despite many white people’s sudden insistence that they are (in fact, it’s way more likely that a marginalized author will be forced to whiten their story for it to be published or that they do so through cultural pressures and internalized oppression). If a white writer provides an ensemble cast of majority white people, I will be irritated and I will treat it as a reflection of their internalized biases, but I’d rather they continue doing that than ignorantly add in stereotypical side characters who get no development and/or die, and I’d rather marginalized authors be given the same platform and fan response as privileged writers to write their own representation. Not that privileged writers should just not bother with writing diversely (because they can and should!), but they should do so when they’ve done research on stereotypical tropes and consulted sensitivity readers.

#anti sjm #writing advice: poc

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sapphicambitions · 5 years

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Honestly one thing that I REALLY fucking hate about what the Magicians Finale is that it ripped away any trust I have in ANY writer or network to handle queer storylines. Like maybe it’s stupid of me to feel this way cause it’s been this way for like literally ever that queer characters get killed off, so maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised and devastated. But I was. And for a brief moment, before all the shit went down, I was 100% convinced that a queer ship was endgame and that queer characters would get a happy ending. And ripping that away triggered a whole mess of emotions and fears and memories of when Tara died. And when Lexa died. And every queer character in the last 50 years that’s met their untimely and unnecessary end or given an unsatisfying ending to appease the heteros. Now I look at other current shows with queer characters and I’m like “Are they gonna do that too? Are they building up something wonderful just to rip it away in the end in the worst possible way? Can I really put my trust in another set of writers?” And I can’t! Not right now! Like for example, I look at Sara & Ava from Legends of Tomorrow, one of the HEALTHIEST wlw ships I’ve EVER seen on screen, and I get physically anxious that something’s gonna go wrong for them, for no other reason than it’s a queer ship! (The only show that I’m not really anxious about is She-Ra cause it has queer creators but even then I’m afraid that Netflix is gonna swoop in and play their hand.) Like I cant & won’t speak for other members of the LGBTQ community, but I know that I already feel so much anxiety existing openly as myself all the time, every time I’m in public, or everytime I interact with a family member. Happy queer representation has been my escape from that, a way to escape from my very real fears that I’ll be attacked on the street for holding a girl’s hand or wearing a rainbow shirt, or the fear that I’ll be disowned by my brothers when they find out the truth about me. And now that happy place has been ripped away from me and I’m anxious about queer characters being allowed to exist and live on screen. I just...... I just wanted to have that safe space to forget how shitty it can be sometimes. We know that dragons exist. I wanted to see the dragons slayed.

#lesbianlaynie #laynie is emotional #the magicians #queliot #avalance #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #the magicians finale #the 4x13 clown car #daily reminder: fuck the writers

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ts1989fanatic · 5 years

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I learned to block some of the noise. Social media can be great, but it can also inundate your brain with images of what you aren’t, how you’re failing, or who is in a cooler locale than you at any given moment. One thing I do to lessen this weird insecurity laser beam is to turn off comments. Yes, I keep comments off on my posts. That way, I’m showing my friends and fans updates on my life, but I’m training my brain to not need the validation of someone telling me that I look 🔥🔥🔥. I’m also blocking out anyone who might feel the need to tell me to “go die in a hole ho” while I’m having my coffee at nine in the morning. I think it’s healthy for your self-esteem to need less internet praise to appease it, especially when three comments down you could unwittingly see someone telling you that you look like a weasel that got hit by a truck and stitched back together by a drunk taxidermist. An actual comment I received once.

Swiftie lessons learned:

So based on Taylor Swift’s 30 lessons before 30 I wanted to share a few lessons of my own. As a person twice Taylor’s age and a guy too, you might think there is not that much I could learn by becoming a swiftie at my age.

You like me would be all kinds of wrong

Before 1989 came out I had never really spent any time on SM, but after the album release and my wife and I both deciding it was one of the best pop albums ever.

I bit the bullet and started a Twitter account to share how I felt about the album with others who felt the same, OMG was that a huge mistake. Talk about drama it was insane on there.

So then I looked at Instagram but that’s not for me (hate having my picture taken) and I don’t do selfies my icon picture with my better half is the only picture of me on the internet to my knowledge.

Finally I ended up here on Tumblr and it’s been my go to ever since, the lesson I learned from this experience relates in a way too #1 on Taylor’s 30 I also had to block some of the noise the trolls came after me sometimes relentlessly over my age and gender. At first I used to respond to all the vitriol until I realized I was just feeding the trolls, the block function on Tumblr is as satisfying as trying to have a reasonable debate with the trolls was unsatisfying.

Being sweet to everyone all the time can get you into a lot of trouble. While it may be born from having been raised to be a polite young lady, this can contribute to some of your life’s worst regrets if someone takes advantage of this trait in you. Grow a backbone, trust your gut, and know when to strike back. Be like a snake—only bite if someone steps on you.

Swiftie lesson #2

#2 on Taylor’s list was about being nice to everyone all the time, like Taylor I was raised to be polite (if I wasn’t polite in front of my father I got knocked across the room) that also got me in trouble with the trolls. Apparently it’s creepy to respond to a request for a Reblog with all done young lady or similar phrases.

Or sending new followers a thanks for the follow let me know if you need anything reposted message, I don’t initiate conversations on Tumblr but I politely respond to requests for reblogs or advice.

But apparently being polite and responding like this is creepy, which is stupid to me, at my age most of the people on here are younger than me and most are probably female.

Banish the drama. You only have so much room in your life and so much energy to give to those in it. Be discerning. If someone in your life is hurting you, draining you, or causing you pain in a way that feels unresolvable, blocking their number isn’t cruel. It’s just a simple setting on your phone that will eliminate drama if you so choose to use it.

Swiftie lesson #3

I have learned to do this over the years, it’s happened before and will probably happen again. I used to respond to the trolls but soon realized you can’t have a reasonable debate with unreasonable people.

Now I simply block them for my own peace of mind, it still hurts to be called creepy and a pedophile but I’m a big boy and I have learned to deal with it.

What I really hate is those who come to my defence being viciously attacked and in some cases being driven away from Tumblr over it. That’s not happening with me I have thought about it in the past but never again.

I have three things that keep me here, online friends willing to accept me for who I am and who are willing to risk getting attacked to defend me and my right to be here.

A follow from @taylorswift that’s almost four years old along with a bunch of likes from Taylor “every one of them a Reblog for someone else” I absolutely love when that happens it makes two swifties happy me of course and the original poster.

And finally a sense of community somewhere that I can feel like I belong. A place that being a @taylorswift fan at my age in life is not considered strange by the vast majority of of swifties.

So keep sending the hate I will continue to block the noise, I am not going anywhere. I had close to 40 people unfollow me over the weekend but 10 or 11 others that ignored the noise and made their own decisions.

I learned that disarming someone’s petty bullying can be as simple as learning to laugh. In my experience, I’ve come to see that bullies want to be feared and taken seriously. A few years ago, someone started an online hate campaign by calling me a snake on the internet. The fact that so many people jumped on board with it led me to feeling lower than I’ve ever felt in my life, but I can’t tell you how hard I had to keep from laughing every time my 63-foot inflatable cobra named Karyn appeared onstage in front of 60,000 screaming fans. It’s the Stadium Tour equivalent of responding to a troll’s hateful Instagram comment with “lol.” It would be nice if we could get an apology from people who bully us, but maybe all I’ll ever get is the satisfaction of knowing I could survive it, and thrive in spite of it.

Swiftie lesson #4

I don’t have a sixty foot snake named Karyn but I have learned some valuable lessons from watching how @taylorswift dealt with her bullies. The most important one is too not let the bullies define who you are or too change you in any meaningful way.

I can’t laugh it off because being bullied is not a laughing matter, but I can learn to roll with it and as Taylor herself say Shake It Off.

Have I made mistakes on here in the past yes, will I make mistakes in the future probably but will that stop me from being here and doing what I have always done. NOPE I have always tried to help others get noticed liked followed by @taylorswift that will never change.

Just because a bunch of TROLLS decided they don’t like what I do or say on here will not change who I am or what I try to do after all.

You are not your mistakes.

You are not damaged goods or money from your failed explorations.

You are not the opinion of someone who doesn’t know you.

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oceanmastertrash · 5 years

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the tides know our names- 6/?

gif from @voyevoda-thejoy

Summary: -takes place after the movie- Orm is working with Arthur to try to help Atlantis move forward when Elara has a vision of his death. As part of an order of Atlanteans dating back to the reign of King Atlan known as Tidewatchers, it is her duty to warn the king of her vision. Predicting and reading the future through the tides of fate has never been easy but Elara is in for the challenge of a lifetime working with her former king to save his life.

Part: 6/?

Word Count: 1,744

Warnings: none for this chapter

Read on Ao3

Orm seemed to grow uneasy at Arthur’s expression, “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“You are definitely going to hate it, little bro.” Arthur said as he burst into a shit-eating grin and all doubts were erased. “Congratulations, you just won a trip to the surface.”

To say that Orm was not enthused about this plan was like saying that the ocean was wet.

“You honestly expect me to hide out on the surface with everything that’s going on?” Orm seethed.

“Yes I do,” Arthur said gravely, just about fed up by his younger brother’s obstinance. “What else would you have us do? Unless you hadn’t noticed, you’ve pissed off a lot of people down here. You killed the Fisherman king for christ’s sake. That’s not something they or anyone else are going to get over in a hurry. And if you want any chance of sticking around and making things up to people, you’re going to have to trust us. Please, give us a chance to figure things out.”

Orm was silenced with that. It was certainly not an easy thing for him to hear but Arthur was right to say it. If he was going to survive this to help fix things one day, he was just going to have to deal with this. Sacrifices must be made for the sake of his people after all. Because whether or not any of the other tribes even believed in him anymore, he still believed in them and wanted to do what was best. And if Arthur was to evolve into a king skilled enough to rule them he would need Orm’s help and he’d be no help if he was dead.

“Alright,” Orm finally agreed. “We’ll try it your way, brother.”

There was almost a trace of affection there but if nothing else it showed you that he was trying make things right. Elara let out a breath. Given how tense things had gotten the last two times the brothers had fought, she was grateful they seemed to be trying out diplomacy.

Vulko was not as easily appeased as the Tidewatcher was and still had a suspicious look in his eyes, almost as if he couldn’t fully believe Orm was acquiescing this easily. Elara knew the truth though: nothing about this was easy for Orm. Each effort at civility and deference in such a charged situation required grueling effort on his part.

“How would we do it though?” She couldn’t help but ask before clarifying. “I’m not saying it’s a bad plan. It’s actually pretty clever but how would it work logistically? Would you drop him off at your parents’ lighthouse or what?”

Both brothers had a very visible reaction but while Arthur’s was more disapproving, Orm’s managed to have equal strokes of pain and distaste. He clearly had no desire to play audience to his mother’s happily ever after with her surface dweller. Especially considering it was their romance that had ultimately taken her from Orm, leaving him to grow up under the sole care of his violent and tempestuous father. He may be willing to submit to a stay on the surface he hated but he was not desperate enough to agree to that.

“No,” Arthur said, “I don’t want to put this on them. Besides, if it's crossed our minds, anyone else after Orm would think of that too.”

Elara couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that, over the past few hours she’d spent a lot of time with the three men contemplating this problem in silence. It also seemed that they hadn’t gotten very far in tackling it from any angle.

“Well what do you think?” she asked. “Are we supposed to just pop him on the surface by himself?”

None of them looked even remotely interested in that idea.

“Certainly not,” Vulko responded,.“We can’t just send the prince to the surface by himself.”

“What then?” she asked, seeming to track where his thought had trailed, “You can’t exactly send a whole squadron with him. I thought we were trying this to be inconspicuous. If you send any number of armored soldiers, you might as well be broadcasting his location. Besides, someone would notice if a battalion went missing at the same time the prince disappeared.”

“You’re right,” Arthur agreed, an almost mischievous look in his eye, “but they probably wouldn’t notice if it was a single Tidewatcher.”

Elara was struck utterly speechless, her mouth hanging open. Then, trying to make sure she hadn’t just hallucinated, asked. “You want to send me?”

Orm was similarly surprised but he had yet to say anything, as if waiting to hear exactly what Arthur intended.

“Why not? You’ve already saved his life once,” Arthur pointed out.

“I did not-” she spluttered.

“I would hardly say that,” Orm said at the same time.

Arthur held his hands up to quiet further objections on that score, “Say what you want but I think it’s the natural choice. It was Elara’s death vision that got us started on all this and she would be the ideal option for protection up there. And she’d be with you to warn you if she saw any more attacks.”

Vulko spoke next, “It makes a certain kind of sense but would she be enough to fight off any real threat? It’s not like she’s a trained warrior.”

“Warrior? No.” Arthur agreed, “but she is trained. You saw her back there, from what the guards told me, she’s more than skilled enough to not only hold her own but watch Orm’s back.”

Elara knew she ought to have been flattered at that but was still stuck at flabbergasted over his completely unorthodox plan.

Orm, strangely enough, did not dispute her skills. Instead he spoke to Arthur, “You can hardly plan to send just the two of us up to the surface without any kind of reinforcement.”

“Her tide watching is reinforcement,” Arthur countered. “And from what Mera told me, the Tidewatchers are all connected by the tide or something so if anyone was able to track you down she could reach out to the Tidewatcher council and we’d come find you.”

She blinked, that was a gross oversimplification of how Tidewatchers communicated with tides but it wasn’t exactly wrong. And it’s not like they could take any kind of Atlantean tech to communicate, that would be way too easy to track.

Seven Seas, was she actually considering this?

Orm still had more reservations about the harebrained scheme. “Yes but they would likely come too late. If something went wrong, it would be just us out there.”

“The idea is less about fortification and more about subterfuge and deflection,” Arthur said. “We’d be doing our part down here to throw anyone off the track while you two are supposed to disappear on the surface. Who knows? You may even learn a thing or two about it; Elara certainly has.”

It was then that she realized that not only had Arthur remembered her mentioning having experience with the surface but he was using it as evidence for her qualifications to go with Orm. She had to admit, even if this whole idea completely baffled her- it was smart thinking.

Orm made to object again but Arthur stopped him, “I know, it’s not what you want and it certainly isn’t the most ideal, but right now, it looks like it’s our best shot unless anyone else has any other ideas.Because right now it’s this or locking you up for your own good.”

Orm furrowed his brow, deeply unsatisfied with either option. Elara could see him trying to think of any other option, but like Elara, he came up empty.

“Besides,” Arthur began, trying once more to reinforce the positives of his plan;“this way, with you exploring the surface more, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Orm outright scowled at that, “A charming surface expression, I take it.”

Arthur grinned, “Yep, and you’re going to get to learn a whole lot more.”

Elara was pretty sure that teasing Orm was not the best way to persuade him to agree but she wasn’t exactly about to say that to her king. Besides, Arthur’s blustery confidence and decisiveness were certainly doing their part to get the others on board..

Despite all of Elara’s gifts with the Tides if someone had told her yesterday that the King was seriously planning on sending her up to the surface alone with Prince Orm to protect him, she would have thought they were crazy. She supposed this was proof that the tides could still move in ways that were mysterious even to the most experienced Tidewatcher.

Orm tightened his jaw and she could see the moment he resigned to the idea and yet he kept his back straight and his gaze steely as he fixed Arthur with his stare. Oddly though, Elara could sense he was taking special care not to look at her when he finally said, “Very well, my King. But I trust you to do your sworn duty to look after your kingdom, no matter how odious a meeting or how dull you may find it. Whether you’re equipped to handle it or not, Atlantis looks to you.”

He then looked to Vulko, “And I trust you not to forget to investigate this matter to the very best of your ability, lest you seek to use this as an excuse to exile me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Vulko said icily though it certainly seemed to Elara that he had, in fact, dreamed such an idea.

“We’ll keep looking, Orm,” Arthur assured him with a determined set to his jaw. “On that you have my word. We’ll get to the bottom of this and get you back here before too long.”

Orm seemed to take, if not comfort, then assurance in what his brother said because he chose not to snipe back at Vulko. He seemed to have resigned himself to whatever this was that the two of them were about to embark on even as Elara could barely grasp this was happening.

More than anything, Elara wanted him to look at her- to see what he really thought of her being the one to join him on the surface. And yet, he kept his eyes stubbornly fixed on his brother as he asked, “When will we leave?”

Arthur looked to Vulko then, decided, back to Elara and Orm. “Tomorrow.”

Author's Note: Alright folks, this story has been officially revamped into an OC fic, the previous version featuring the reader has been marked as private and discontinued. I am really sorry to anyone disappointed by this shift but I had to do what was best for my writing. I think this was really the right choice and I thank everyone who supported me through this and I hope you enjoy the change and the rest of the story to follow!

#king orm #king orm x oc #orm x oc #orm marius #ocean master #the tides know our names #tidewatcher fic #oceanmastertrash

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jpnesecurrency · 6 years

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On the cusp of beauty and despair

I’ve written about A Piece of the World (2017) before, and I’ve been thinking about it recently, along with the Keira Knightly/Matthew MacFadyen version of Pride & Prejudice (2005), because I’ve just finished watching Anne with an E (2017) on Netflix. What do they all have in common that makes me linger, despite being about such different things? If you’ve seen or read any of these, you’ll remark that they each feature a female protagonist and her place in the world, which is portrayed in these incredible scenes of natural landscapes. Even though it’s only a corner of the world in which they dwell, the imagery expands in a way that feels so infinite. I realize how much I identify with them, not because I am anything like the protagonists, but because I keep imagining myself there, in those scenes - by the lakes in England, in the fields in rural Maine, on the coast of Prince Edward Island. It’s as if there is a kind of undisrupted truth that comes from being in that world that I experience so intensely and so naturally.

There’s something so unearthly satisfying about being on the cusp of beauty and despair, between something that you love and the threat of its imminent disappearance. It’s as Anne says when she’s standing on by the Lake of Shining Waters with Gilbert Blythe (the child form on Mr. Darcy, goodness), “I am afraid to speak or move for the fear all this wonderful beauty will vanish just like a broken silence.” (in Anne of the Island) And even though you might be alone, you aren’t, because the sheer acceptance of life as it takes its course makes you feel like you’re a part of something.

I’ve been taking walks to appease this ache I feel, praying they would help but I’m unsatisfied by the cityscape, even though I always take the same path to the community garden. There’s so much solace that I take in green and nature, that even experiences of regret of unfulfilled love, if experienced in the beauty of nature, could be rendered ineffably serene.

- - - - - - <3

#nature #new england #prince edward island #anne of green gables #anne with an e #pride and prejudice #elizabeth bennet #anne of the island #gilbert blythe #maine #christina's world #andrew wyeth #solemn #love #infinite

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nafjosephjeagar · 3 years

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Palestine - Israel ethno-religious conflict (1948 to present)

Beginning in 1923 with the destruction and subsequent carving up of the ottoman empire by european imperialists, what is now israel was planned to be used as a method to project british power around the middle east by appeasing jewish groups via the creation of a jewish homeland, hoping that in turn jews would show favour to imperial britain.

In 1948 palestine was again carved into pieces, this dictated what parts were an arab state and what parts were a jewish state, however this meant that the jewish minority now owned over half of palestine, and now the arabs owned very little land fit for agriculture.

This initiated 54 years of conflict since, some movements wanting an independent palestinian state, such as hamas or complete anhilation of the israeli state and jews, such as the islamic jihad movement in palestine.

Apartheid, preventing worship, airstrikes on civilians are all still commonplace, this year 70,000 palestinians praying at the Al qasa mosque at the final prayers of ramadan clashed with riot police sent there, (al qasa mosque is controlled by israel despite being a historical muslim/arab place of worship) this then escalated into riots in arab majority cities and a missile strike perpetrated by hamas, israel responded by airstriking a residential tower.

Rowandan genocide (1994)

The beginnings of the genocide began as a result of colonial germany favoring the tutsi minority over the hutu majority, due to the belief that tutsis were more white or otherwise simply superior, leading to animosity between the groups, however the beginnings showed when missionaries viewing themselves as the white saviours of the oppressed hutus began to create a new class of intellectual elite clergy, forming the basis of a anti-tutsi movement. Soon after murders followed and the establishment of a hutu state, though unsatisfied, preparation for the genocide began in 1990 with the military training hutu men in combat and giving out basic weapons to civilians, finally with the death of then prime minister Juval Habyarimana, allowed the formation of an emergency military junta.

Immediately after which the following year would see the systematic deaths of 1,100,000 total, most being tutsi, some being twa, moderate or sympathetic hutu and a few reporters and foreigners.

Rape squads consisting of HIV carrying men spread the then incurable slow death of HIV, men were raped, though women were worst off, 250,000 - 500,000 estimated women were raped, many hutu women also were targeted, with both sexes having their genitals mutilated.

Asian hate crimes (2019-present)

Recently the world has seen a surge of hate crimes directed at the asian race, in the uk the rate of hate crimes rose 50% in the last two years, in america it rose by 76%, seemingly due to the belief that asian peoples are infected, or somehow bare the responsibility for it, similar to those around homosexual men and AIDS/HIV or larger historical sentiments around refugees infectiousness.

However the counter movements have been quick and the “stop the asian hate” movement now exists to counter these racists and protest or otherwise demonstrate to show the strength of their community and help publicize the issue.

Kosovo - Serb ethno-nationalist conflict (1994 to present)

Kosovo gained independence out of an ethnonationalist group called the kosovo liberation army, which itself only exists due to the serbian oppressors targeting the albanian people and culture, resulting in albanian civil disobedience and the creation of albanian run educational, medical and governmental structures creating the conditions for the free state of kosovo to exist.

However, the new borders that kosovo had included a northern serbian majority, this posed an apparent threat to the government of kosovo, perhaps fearing they may want to reunify with serbia they began to oppress their old oppressors, with attacks on serbian cultural sites such as churches and even the ‘yellow house’ organ harvesting operation which killed 300 serbs.

Though there are plans in the brussels agreement to allow serbs their own police force and courts, as well as calls from the community assembly of kosovo and metohija to create self governing territories out of serb majority regions.

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sirius-cobic · 4 years

Photo

Sirius Cobic → Charlie Hunnam, Idris Elba, Mark Wahlberg and Chris Pine → Human Shifter

→ Basic Information

Age: 567

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: September 2nd

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Religion: SBNR

→ His Personality Sirius is smart, elegant, successful and confident. He is an alpha male. He’s a leader that motivates and inspires his clan and his police force. When he walks into the room there’s an air that flows around him and makes people want to stop and stare. He loves displaying his wit, charm and knowledge. Sirius has a lot of charisma which usually swayes people away from the ill thought of him being a human shifter. Although, this person Sirius portrays at work and with his clan is not extended beyond just that. He is often very hostile towards other supernatural beings. Only just recently, has he changed their policy to help all creatures in Chicago instead of charging them an immense amount of money for protection and coverups.

Sirius enjoys his solitude. He needs time to contemplate his ideas without the intrusion of other people's thoughts. He is a person who lives by his own ideas and methods. He needs his space and privacy, which, when violated, can cause him great frustration and irritation. All this privacy and aloneness does cause him to feel isolated and lonely. Sirius is aware of an emptiness in his life, there is a part of him that yearns for company and close companionship that has been unsatisfied; not romantically but friendship wise. He sees those that are a part of his clan as his children and is unsure if he can cross the thin line of being their leader/fatherly inspiration and also consider them close companions/friends.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Chief of Police

Scars: No

Tattoos: No

Two Likes: Alone Time and Food Critiquing

Two Dislikes: Being Ridiculed and Deodorant Stains

Two Fears: Poverty and Pink Laundry

Two Hobbies: Vintage Clothing Collecting and Antique Car Collecting

Three Positive Traits: Meticulous, Conservative, Reliable

Three Negative Traits: Judgemental, Harsh, Persistent

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Kirill Atlas Bychkov (Father): Kirill was the genius that named Sirius, Shura Kutsel Bychkov. Prior to Kushim’s death, Kirill was a kind and loving husband as well as a good father, however, once Kushim died Kirill became hostile, distant and cold; possibly due to the immense grief he felt due to the loss of his oldest and favorite child. Sirius was still young and going forward all he remembers of his father is that Kirill was calculating, meticulous, aggressive, bad tempered and prideful. Kirill used fear to control people, particularly his wife and children, as a way to protect them. This led Sirius to be alienated from Kirill and to Sirius second guessing Kirill leadership position.

Zhanna Bychkov (Mother): Zhanna was never a loving or devoted mother. She never cared for any of them but feared Kirill enough not to hurt any of them. Unlike Kirill who was hard on them out of fear of losing them, Zhanna treated them like second class citizens behind closed doors. When Kirill was away on hunts or tribe business, she never defended them against danger and often left them to fend for themselves when it came to basic caregiving. She valued her marriage towards her husband more than her own children. She relished the fact that Kirill was the strongest human shifter leader around and only wanted to be on his arm instead of with their children.

Sibling Names:

Kushim Bychkov (Brother): Kushim and Sirius were best friends and got along well before his death. Kushim was killed by a young misguided human shifter from another tribe. Kushim's death tore their family apart and started a war that lasted well after Sirius had left home. The misguided child, younger than Sirius at the time, who was looking to appease his leader and to be accepted, was flayed then forced to eat himself. Kushim's death has always been a sore spot for Sirius.

Iry-Xook Bychkov (Brother): Iry-Xook is Sirius' younger brother. Sirius and Kushim had a hand in raising him before he married into another family and left their tribe. They keep in contact and Sirius has a few of his nephews, nieces, great-nephews, and great-nieces in Chicago with him.

Alkebulan Zhinia Bychkov (Sister): Alkebulan was a tough kid but ran away after Kushim was killed. Sirius, Iry-Xook and Kirill spent years looking for her. They never found her and Sirius wonders if she walks among him.

Hinusian Aryi Bychkov (Sister): Aryi was a toddler when Sirius left home. Sirius adored her but Zhanna and Kirill treatment rubbed off on her more since she did not know of them before Kushim’s death.

Unknown (Unknown): Kirill and Zhanna had continued to have children after Sirius left. He has heard tales about his possible siblings but Sirius doesn’t care to get to know them unless they seek him out. In the past only two or three have reached out to him and the relationship has always been short lived.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Nastasya Bychkov (Ex-Wife): Nastasya and Sirius were married young and under their family close supervision. Nastasya did not love him. Sirius tried his hardest to make her want him and failed every time. One night Sirius gave up and asked Nastasya to run away with the man she had been seeing. She took the opportunity without any hesitation, they were gone before morning. As a result, they were hunted down and killed by their tribe. Sirius knew this would happen and played the shocked hurting husband while hiding his relief. Sirius used this as another excuse to pull away from his misguided family and tribe.

Platonic Connections:

Vincent Kane (Close Friend): Vincent is one of Sirius’ closest friends and his right-hand man. While Vincent is nearly 260 plus years younger than Sirius, Vincent’s maturity and likeness to Sirius has solidified their bond. They have grown a part in the past few decades, Vincent is now closer to Robert, Churchill, and Patch, but Sirius still considers Vincent as one of his own; a protege.

Robert J. Fischer (Old Friend): Eloise and Michael Fischer were Sirius' closest friends and asked him to take Robert in if anything were to ever happen to them. Sirius then took Robert under his wings when Robert was destroyed by the tragic death of his parents. Robert was acting recklessly, needlessly spending money and spiraling out of control. Sirius pulled Robert out of his reckless depression and straightened him out. Robert has grown past what Sirius had expected for him.

Churchill Darling (Old Friend): Churchill has a lot of surprises up his sleeve and never ceases to amaze Sirius. Churchill has flourished as 2nd, erasing any doubt that Sirius once had about him taking on a larger role within their clan. Sirius does not have the same protectiveness towards Vincent and Churchill as he does others within their clan. This is only because Sirius trusts them to not only protect themselves but to protect and honor him as well.

Jev ‘Patch’ Cipriano (Protective): Sirius has known the Cipriano family for centuries. They are all happy and carefree people that Sirius is grateful to be associated with. Patch for one has a full life away from being a human shifter and his current job title. Sirius has always liked that about the younger man. Patch ability to make friends and communicate his feelings clearly to those around him is something Sirius wishes he could allow himself to do. His protectiveness of Patch has kicked into high gear as Patch integrates himself more with the other species of the immortal 3. Sirius does not fear for Patch, but he fears trouble Patch will get himself and possibly their clan into.

Montgomery ‘Monty’ Wilders (Protective): Sirius is protective of everyone he calls one of his own, especially those who come to him seeking asylum. Monty had clearly been hurt by his past leader and nearly lost faith in the human shifter society before Sirius got his hands on him. Sirius has not pressed Monty for information about his former pack but has someone keeping an eye on them, especially after Adelaide showed up. Roland, Monty's former pack leader has reached out about the Romeo and Juliet duo that Sirius seems to be harboring, and Sirius is now debating how to continue keeping them safe.

Greta Bow (Protective): Sirius saved Greta from being repeatedly harvested by hunters 48 years ago. He has been keeping an eye on her and trying to show his support in any way possible. Sirius has been slightly irritated with Greta since she has not told him about her dissociative identity disorder with one of her forms (Adria Arjona). Sirius is unsure if she thinks he would have her killed or if she just fears him too much to share her problems. Whatever progress he thought he was making with her has now gone out of the window.

Winston ‘Sticks’ Abioye (Protective): Sirius took Winston in and allowed another family to foster him after Winston's entire family was murdered. Sirius knows what it means to be without a family, whether it is by choice or not. Sirius has always wanted a large caring family and therefore sees the people he leads as his family. Winston does have his difficulties but that has never come between their professional or personal relationship. Sirius has been doing his best to shut down rumors that Winston is dirty, even going as far as reassigning the detectives that were spreading false information.

Arthur ‘Art’ Milligan (Protective): Arthur can easily be placed in the same category with Patch Cipriano; Arthur is a distant cousin of the Cipriano family. Arthur's personality sings to Sirius like a siren. Sirius has tied this to his own rushed childhood and fast-tracked adulthood. People like Patch, Arthur, Winston and Monty, who can enjoy their years and lean on other support are muses that keep Sirius going at the end of the day. His protectiveness of Arthur has kicked into high gear as Arthur integrates himself more with the other species of the immortal 3. Unlike Patch, Sirius does fear for Arthur’s after life and hopes that whatever relationship he has with Roman Cleirigh remains only in this world.

Douglas Gish (Trusted): Douglas and Sirius have been strictly business and professional from the start of their relationship. It is a struggle keeping tabs on over 110,000 human shifters when Sirius only started off with 60 when they landed in the new world. Douglas helps Sirius keep his sanity and Sirius considers him a loyal member of their clan. However, besides work, their species and clan, Sirius and Douglas have little in common.

D.W. Colt (Trusted): Sirius would not call whatever he has with D.W a friendship nor would he disrespect their relationship by calling it anything less. All Sirius can say is that he trusts D.W. Sirius was the one who finally gave D.W the go ahead to infiltrate the Colts. With his blessing she has been able to create a massive network of information on the Colts that will lead to their demise.

Ronan Cleirigh (Understanding): The Cleirigh family is the reason why Sirius and his clan are in Chicago. They have kept their relationship platonic but Patch, Arthur and a few other human shifters have integrated themselves with the local magic users. Sirius had reached out with his concerns and Ronan respectably laid those concerns to rest. Ronan and Sirius have continued to speak on the regular.

Scorpius Getta (Understanding): Getta is the closest person that Sirius has as a friend other than his own kind. Sirius has always had a problem trusting non-human shifters, especially those who were not a part of the immortal 3. Getta is easier to get along with and they have come to an understanding that human criminals that Sirius’ team are unable to get behind bars are free to become cattle.

Ellis Watts III (Understanding): It has been years in the making, finding out who they could trust and making friends with people who had strong pulling within Councils, but Sirius had finally found their key players. The jackals were the key to setting their plans in motion as government workers. Clan Jackal aided in the final developments of getting a supernatural to the top of the Chicago government; a Mayor. There is a lot to lose if things go wrong.

Ebony Anderson (Understanding): Ebony and Imani have always been a pleasure to work with. A small majority of his clan within the police department also work with them on the side. Sirius and his clan are willing to hand off untouchables and other supernaturals that go unpunished by their packs to the Andersons.

Blaine Colt (Understanding): Sirius and Blaine’s relationship is a new one. Sirius does not trust the Colts and has his operative on the inside but could not pass up the opportunity when it came up. Imani Anderson's marriage into the Colt family opened nearly the same handoff but Sirius is still trying to work out the kinks with Blaine and his brother, Colin.

Hostile Connections:

Nick Hamelin (Abhorrence): Sirius never understood Clan Rat’s idiotic need for minuscule information. They are unneeded and unwanted, forcing themselves to be important by trading off secrets. Nick has had something against Sirius and his people since they moved to Chicago. Being the neutral party, Sirius has kept a levelled head about Nick but the unhealthy hunger for information has become tedious. Sirius has warned them again recently to be left alone or else the naturality with the animal shifters will be voided.

Jim Montgomery (Strong Hate): Jim is Nick Hamelin puppet from Clan Rat and has blown a few of Sirius' people covers with their unending meddlesomeness. The human shifter liaisons have tried to reach out to Jim specifically to come to an arrangement, like many of the arrangements the rats have with other animal shifter clans but have always returned without a deal and bugged. These childish acts have already cost the rats people Underground and Sirius plans on bringing it up to the others of the immortal 3 before making the same move.

Pets:

None

#bio

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