#and re-learn anything I need as it becomes necessary again

[self-loving-vampire]

Unrelated: A lot of people think they'd be mages in a fantasy setting but don't know anything about math or programming in their current lives.

The world they already live in has a magic system and they just neglect it. They consider it boring or impenetrable.

Honestly I kind of sympathize since school is usually horrible at teaching that kind of thing but still. The most wizard-coded people are the ones who Understand Math.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

dear sex witch,

i'm really sorry if this question is inappropriate and too long, please delete if necessary. i am a 17-year-old cis girl who grew up in a sexually conservative culture/religion but stumbled into extremely taboo nsfw fanfiction (and later nsfw fanart once or twice) really young (probably about 12) without even registering that what i was doing was masterbation/looking at porn. i no longer think those things are objectively bad or sinful as i was taught when i was younger, and i consider myself probably more sex-positive than a lot of my peers irl, but i feel a lot of shame about specific things that i've read and i still consider immoral although obviously none of the content i consumed involved real people doing sexual acts, and i started experiencing a lot of taboo and guilt-inducing intrusive thoughts two years ago.

if it's possible would you be able to give some advice about how to move forward? i've avoided pornographic material for more than a year but i don't actually know if that's healthy or helpful. the shame around previous porn use and the intrusive thoughts have also led me to become very afraid to disclose my sexual orientation (i realised i was a lesbian last year) because i'm worried i'll be bad representation and that if people realise what my past experiences were it would reinforce their homophobic beliefs about homosexuality being perverse.

again i apologise if this isn't the sort of thing you are able or willing to deal with at all, or if i sound too reactionary regarding sex and kink: i have been trying to educate myself but i obviously still have a long way to go. thank you for the work that you do and i hope you have a wonderful day.

hi anon,

okay, so, first thing I need to say, right out of the gate: it's not possible for you to be "bad representation." you're not representation. you're a real human person who, like every other human, will make mistakes and have regrets and sometimes do things that you're not very proud of. the burden of ending bigotry is not on queer people; don't have to be upstanding paragons of morality in the hopes that people will stop being meaners to us. if someone is homophobic, that's not something that you can change personally by being the most perfect lesbian in the world. they're still going to be homophobic unless they personally decide not to be, a choice that you can't force anyone to make. please, p l e a s e do not put that kind of pressure on yourself.

also: you actually don't have to disclose your sexual orientation to anyone whose reaction you're worried about. if someone is a homophobe, they don't need to know that you're homo! I know a lot of importance is placed on the idea of being out in every aspect of your life, but that is fucking DANGEROUS for a lot of people - especially young people who are dependent on families that won't support them. being out to your family is never, never, NEVER more important than you being safe; don't get it twisted.

re: avoiding porn, it's none of my business if you want to look at or read or listen to porn. I do know in many cases that learning how to just look at a thing as it is, without judging yourself for doing so, is the most effective way to stop feeling so scared and worried about it. I have no idea how much you pay attention to my blog, but I've had numerous people telling me that watching me joke so much about an incestuous relationship about two brothers in a bad Marvel movie has helped reduce the anxiety they feel about fictional incest. if you feel able to do so, it might be really good for you to experience enjoying some porn and masturbating about it without anything bad happening.

it doesn't even have to be watching porn; any kind of content centered around sex in a positive manner can really help to make it feel more natural and less scary. I always recommend the channel Sexplanations on YouTube, which is quite frank about bodies and pleasure while also being lighthearted and education, and I think you in particular might really benefit from the podcast Sexvangelicals, which is hosted by two sex therapists who do a lot of work specifically targeted at helping individuals who come from high control religious groups unlearn shame about sex.

[zlobonessa]

reinregu idol au as gift for @re-knights!

The crowd at the concert was huge—Reinhard had no trouble staying on his feet, but several girls nearby would have been pushed to the floor and trampled if he hadn't caught them in time. He didn't mind intervening, of course, but every time his heart skipped a beat: what if they recognized him? Yes, he was wearing sunglasses and a mask, but still...

It would’ve been a scandal, no doubt. The press, he had been forced to learn since childhood, would turn on their former favorites in the blink of an eye if the story was juicy enough. It would only take one photo of him in the crowd to appear online, and the snowball would start rolling. Is it true that he has such terrible taste in music? Is he doing this instead of fulfilling his actual duties? Who is paying for this? Is this his way to express support for WitchCultEntertainment after last year's scandal? And what about the fresh rumors?

A stain on the family's reputation. Small, yes, and everyone may forget about it in two weeks, but it is from such things that the full picture is formed, and in the future, from a single glance at this picture, it will become clear to everyone: Reinhard van Astrea is a worthless son.

Yes, his heart skipped a beat.

Regulus walked onto the stage with confident, quick steps. He was dressed, as always, in white, and every little detail of his costume, from the fur on his shoulder to the golden lion patterns on his sleeves, reminded of the fashion of kings; one magazine, Reinhard recalled, called his style "a spit in the face of a grieving nation." His face appeared on all the screens behind him: he was grinning.

A completely inappropriate, childish delight appeared in Reinhard's chest. The people around him screamed—and at first he held back, he really held back, it wasn’t proper for him to behave like that, but in such a situation, one could say, it was necessary to do so—soon an admiring cry escaped from his mouth, joining the hundreds of others.

Here, surrounded by complete strangers who shared his feelings with ease, he felt almost normal.

///

“I repeat once again, I am not going to sign anything for any of you! I don’t know if you noticed or not, but the meet and greet session ended half an hour ago! If you don’t want to buy tickets, then sorry, but that’s not my problem! In your opinion, you can just go up to me anywhere and demand that I give you my personal time on the basis of—what, excuse me? Personally, I don’t have the slightest idea why you decided that you have the right to do this! To approach a person so casually, with such, excuse my bluntness, astonishingly audacious request, I just… Get your dirty hands off me! Are you completely…”

Reinhard stopped. The concert was already over, but he did not call for a taxi home after walking outside, wandering around the concert hall instead—he couldn’t really explain why. It seemed to him that he was completely alone here, and everyone else had already left, but the voice, sounding more and more unmistakably familiar, caught him by surprise.

He quickly, mindlessly walked towards the sound—and froze, as if he had crashed into a wall.

If it were not for the voice, Regulus could’ve escaped his attention: standing with everyone else on the wet asphalt instead of the stage, he turned out to be quite short. He was lost in the crowd; fans surrounded him, all with shining eyes, trying to hand him something, or, on the contrary, tear off a piece of him as a souvenir.

“If you think that you can just get away with this!.. Who do you take me for anyway?! Do you think I am your dear friend or something? Ha! Don't get your hopes up! I have absolutely nothing in common with you, and if you hope that…”

The most reasonable thing would be to turn around and leave, of course. His little foray had been a success—what more could he want?

Reinhard stepped forward.

“Excuse me. Sorry. Could you please?.. I just need to... Excuse me. Thank you.”

With careful but firm movements, he pushed the crowd apart until he reached its epicenter. Regulus, his makeup falling off his face and wrinkles forming all over his suit, looked at him, shuddered, but immediately braced himself.

“And what do you want?! To sign my forehead?!”

“Excuse me,” Reinhard replied.

He grabbed Regulus's hand, gloved in cheap silk. The crowd began to grumble.

“Apologies, everyone.” Reinhard waved at them. “I'm sorry, but it's time for you to go home.”

“Who are you?” someone shouted.

Reinhard realised that the effect would not be as strong because of the mask, but still smiled.

“A bodyguard for an hour.”

Without saying another word, he pulled Regulus along with him. The crowd did not part, on the contrary, they tried to grab him, but he dodged with ease—and as soon as he got out, he started running, squeezing Regulus’s hand tightly.

///

“S-stop..! Who do you think you—stop! Now..!”

Reinhard stopped. They hadn't run that far, not even a minute had passed: the concert hall was still visible from here, and some particularly stubborn fan could very well still be chasing them. But Regulus seemed out of breath: his face was red, his clothes were completely disheveled, and he was breathing deeply, with his whole chest.

"What the hell was that?" he managed to say.

Reinhard shrugged.

"I thought you could use a helping hand."

“Oh, we have a comedian here. I'm sorry, is this a charity event? Or are you counting on something? Yeah, admit it. Playing the hero, eh? A real saviour! Do you want me to kiss your feet? Did I ask you for help? Answer me, did I ask? No, I didn't! So what right do you have to decide for other people whether they need to be helped or not? Do you think they won't figure it out without your invaluable services? What a kind soul you are! You think you're the best, don’t you? Who are you anyway, huh?”

“I thought you needed help.” Reinhard shook his head. He pretended that he hadn't heard the last question. “I don't need anything in return.”

“Huh?” This didn’t seem to reassure Regulus, on the contrary, he looked more enraged. “What's that supposed to mean? Maybe I misheard? No, I heard right, don't even think about using it as an excuse. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Are you bullshitting me? Selflessness is a cheese in the mousetrap for fools, are you taking me for a fool? No one in their right mind would save a star at the peak of their popularity for nothing. Come on, tell me what you need, now!”

“I really don't need anything.”

“Are you trying to mock me, huh?!”

A hand grabbed his collar. Regulus pulled Reinhard towards him; his face was contorted with anger, and he did not look like his stage image at all—here and now, he looked like a completely ordinary person.

“You know what?” he hissed. “Mind you, I don't want to do this at all, because, unlike some people in this industry, I'm actually familiar with the concept of morality, but that doesn’t mean my patience is unlimited, and do you know what I can do to you if you continue this ridiculous clowning?! You know what?! You know what?!”

“What?” Reinhard asked politely.

Something gurgled in Regulus's throat, and for a second, Reinhard thought he was going to try to hit him.

But suddenly, something changed in Regulus' expression. He took a deep breath, smiled wryly—the corners of his lips twitched along with his lower eyelid—and, opening his palm, casually smoothed the folds on Reinhard's t-shirt.

“Some idiot probably filmed this ‘heroic’ performance of yours. It's just unbelievable, really, literally everyone is with a phone in their hands all the time these days. Not my business or anything, but what is it, an addiction? They film it, they’ll post it out of context, get their millions of likes or whatever, and for some reason it is my problem now! Mine! Is this supposed to be fair? Thanks a lot," he said through clenched teeth and poked a finger into Reinhard’s chest. ‘You’ll come to a restaurant with me. I'll even pay for your dessert—don’t even try to claim on the internet later that I am some sort of ungrateful greedy bastard.”

Reinhard's eyes widened.

“That... might be a problem,” he said carefully.

“Eh? Now, what does this ‘problem’ mean, exactly? Is this your way to express gratitude? I'm certainly not surprised, but still, don't you think it's extreme arrogance? In that crowd, anyone would kill to be in your place, and here you are going about your ‘problem’. Aren't you ashamed? You should be. I would be if I were you, although, just so you know, I would not be you at all, because it would never occur to me to behave like that. ‘Problem’!”

Reinhard lifted his sunglasses onto his forehead and slowly pulled the mask off his face.

Regulus looked at him critically.

“I'm sorry, but do you know that other people actually can't read other people's minds? How am I supposed to know what to look at here? I have no idea who you are.”

[ananke-xiii]

I think the only thing I'll never change my mind about SPN is that I moderately enjoy Bobby (until he's alive at least, after that I wish they had just stopped but no, I was stuck with the ghost of Bobby past and the ghost of Bobby AU forever) but I'll never agree to see him as the "Good Father Figure" that fandom (heavily fuelled by canon, I have to admit, it's not a fanon thing or something like that) makes him out to be. And I say "fandom" because, while it makes sense for the characters to see Bobby as "Good Father", I'm very limited in my understanding as to why people usually don't question this view and take it at face value.

And I blame "Death's Door" for this because, on one hand, the "death is a door/ the door of death" concept is something that I deeply, deeply ADORE so this ep. is just SOOO enjoyable to watch. And, also, the implications that whatever you didn't deal with in life you'll have to deal with in death? This is my jam, LOooOOOoooVE this. Not only do we get to see Bobby's GIGANTIC trauma but we get to see it via him re-living it? Uhm, yes, more of this, thanks.

On the other hand, the bad: side characters' backstories that become really interesting only before they die is a meh for me. I can't make myself like this type of overly-emotional writing cop-out so this is a me-problem. Well, the other thing is also a me-problem, lol: Bobby's death reframes his life as "worthy" because he was "a good father to two heroes" or whatever he says in the episode and to me this is very boring. It shouldn't be, because it's a noble and wonderful thing, I just find it boring precisely because of what the episode has just showed me, i.e. Bobby's HUUUUGE trauma. As far as I see it, you can't explain trauma away like that. It's a very mediocre view of healing from trauma but still understandable from a writing pov because, well, Bobby is a side character and his death his functional to the main characters' story, sadly. But my point is that it could've been so without the resolution of his, I repeat, BIIIIG trauma thanks to him rejecting his own father's accusations by saying that, after all, he did something good with his life and this something was Sam and Dean. I think Bobby should have had his own moment there, face to face with the fictionalized version of his father but should've engaged with him differently. We had 6 seasons of implied parent-child relationship between Bobby and Sam and Dean, this extra glorification wasn't necessary, imo.

It's this over-explanation that bores me and it's also, I think, a huge factor in how lots of people seem to interpret Bobby as this "Good Father" type which he, let's just say it, isn't. And it's totally okay because that's the core of his character! Like, he was a deeply traumatized man who was aware enough of his own issues to decide that having children wasn't for him and this decision caused him (and Karen, his wife) some big problems. And then, and theeeeen, after tragedy hits him again, he finds out that, yk what? perhaps not only does he LIKE being a father, he'd also make, probably, a good father. But he's not. We think he's good because compared to John anything and anyone are better parents than him. The bar is in hell (lol) and all that. And because the show itself can't really imagine what being a good father actually means. Like, in SPN playing baseball and learning how to drive are portrayed as peak father-son moments but they're definitely not. They can be but, per se and without context, they're not, they're just conventionally accepted images of what a "good father" is supposed to do with his son.

It's, of course, way, waaaaaaaaay more complex than this but, essentially, a "good father" is "just" a parent who Loves his children. But, like, the very first STEP you need to take in order to be able to Love your children is to start working toward loving your inner child, which is another way of saying that you have to give yourself the Love you haven't received or, at least, some grace. Which is WEEEERK, loads and loads and loads of it. And this is impossible on Supernatural, duh, because it's the self-loathing people show where the "work" they have to do is something else entirely and it's more like a "job". But they went SOOOO close to get this in "Death's Door", all they had to do was for adult Bobby not to confront his own, imagined father but to hug himself as the scared little child he was. That was it. That would've been a huuuuuuge first step for the show as a whole.

So, to me, Bobby couldn't actually be a "good" father because he hadn't resolved his deep, deeeeeep, immeeense trauma that he brought to his DEATH. But the interesting thing about him is that he could have been a great father. It's the unexplored potentiality that makes him compelling and quite tragic, frankly. I mean, he's "The One Who Tried To Do The Very, Veeeery Minimum At Least" and that's actually already a lot in that show.

This, thiiiiiiiis I like. So this is the Bobby that I moderately enjoy.

[whats-a-human]

Tips on coping with homicidal ideation, no empathy necessary!

Unrelated to this blog's theme, but this is a very important topic. Everyone is welcome to interact. I wanted to post this long ago; it's hard to but I gotta help others and break the stigma around this too. I hope my wording is good enough.

I have struggled with homicidal ideation years ago, which you might call a type of intrusive thought. I rarely have any homicidal intrusive thoughts anymore and I've dealt with the underlying issue that caused them, so I believe I have overcome that problem.

So, here's a post to anyone struggling with this. Having a licensed therapist is better but I know that just like me, many of you can't have one.

Preparing for an episode

First of all, be neutral about your ideation: you aren't a horrible person and you aren't going to actually murder someone just because of it. Now, and that's really important too: do not normalize those thoughts. You aren't evil for having an illness, but it's still an illness that hurts you above all else, and can hurt others too. I learned this from an acquaintance and that was really helpful.

Now, have a support network. Friends, mental health groups, anything. You should have a safe space to talk about your experiences but you don't need to be "out" to everyone! You can just tell a friend something like "hey, sometimes my mental illnesses act up and I have episodes, when that happens I'll give you a heads up and we could do X" (like talking about a comfort topic, having you/your friend talk about your/their day, etc.) Find a safe way to avoid isolation!

Think of your triggers, make a list so you can avoid them and prepare for when you get triggered. Also list things that soothe you and things that give you a sense of power and control but don't harm you/others. The options are endless, like painting your nails, giving your hair a trim, customizing your phone/blog/etc, cooking, going for a walk, hobbies etc.

2. During an episode

The goal here would be averting your attention to something else, but that can't be forced.

So, you can always talk facts with your brain. If you did act on your urges, you'd be arrested, period. Minor or not. And as a mentally ill person, your time there and after prison would be double hell... compared to just not acting on the thought. If you've been arrested before I doubt you'd want to years on end there (or years on end again). What I also told myself was, "going to prison because of such lowly people isn't worth it". I was right and extra based.

Also why waste your time with murder plans when you can be thinking about Pokemon. Or anything else that brings you joy. Yes, thinking of Pokemon instead of murder plans is part of recovery and based as hell. Like, even if you aren't a fan, some of those critters are cute, right? And just like that, you're slowly averting your attention and the urges are quieting down.

3. Other important things

The biggest victim of my intrusive thoughts was me. Those I wanted to kill were my abusers and I didn't want to have those thoughts, even during episodes I hated that a part of me was into it.

But I would never accept a murderer as a part of myself. I refused to ever accept such path as a valid future for me. Those thoughts were a part of me, but they didn't need to be part of me FOREVER. And I proved myself right. I focused my strength and intelligence on RECOVERING and it was the right choice.

You may feel powerless just like I was. Then, give yourself a haircut, cook something, make art, customize your phone, watch a movie, go do anything that reassures you that YOU are in control of your life, not your abusers. Some things may not appear productive but they are nonetheless carving the way to a beautiful and FREE life. Your episodes will slowly become less and less frequent, and less intense.

Of course recovery isn't linear, it's not always pleasant or easy and you'll still have really bad times, but deciding to thread the path of recovery is a huge step of power in itself. Stay determined.

I still live with my abusers but I have worked so much with myself and whatever I could do within my reach, that the power I consider them to have over me is much, much smaller and that did wonders to me.

An extra reminder: some triggering things may feel kinda good or addictive, like doomscrolling or something that personally entertains your homicidal ideation instead of directing you away from it. For example, directing your violence towards fiction can be helpful but if engaging with/producing violent media entertains these thoughts about real life actions instead of being cathartic, that's a form of self-harm. I know it's addictive but try to look for alternatives! You can do it 💪

Once again, huge virtual hug for everyone 🫂 stay safe!

[civilotterneer]

The Search for Civ

Lye's Personal Log: 10/29/2024

Things have been settling down again, thanks the gods.

With Civ returned to our world a few weeks ago, it took a while for him to re-acclimate to normality. The world he had been abducted too was strange and full of aliens of some wolven variety, and were particularly advanced. However, their use of terms in calling him a 'pet' was greatly disparaging and not good for his mental health. To add to that, the terrors of running for his life did not help.

However, he is doing better now. He is resilient and seemed to be greatly relieved to go back to work at the engineering office. If anything, his work was exactly what he needed to recover, to feel himself again. I still made sure he enrolled in counseling for a while, and the therapist seems to be happy with his progress.

Luckily, almost no one knows of our little escapade, and for all intents and purposes, I intend to keep it that way. I don't want Civ becoming the center of attention around alien life when it would only bring back bad memories. My cover story of a random stasis magic effect seems to be working well. I've informed a few colleagues at the college of a possible discovery with the Hells and transportation, but made sure they would leave us out for the time being.

Civ does fondly remark about a few things from his time there. He seemed very interested in some of the politics on Adastra, but it will be very difficult for us to find out what may have happened. Livic offered to get information from some hellish contacts, but they're likely going to take a while to return as they seemed unwilling. Regardless, while Civ seems mildly worried, Adastra is very far away, and unlikely to matter again in our lifetimes.

Civ has also noted that he wants to take a vacation to Rome, Italy sometime and swim in the seas there. Maybe it'll help him, maybe it won't. Regardless, it does sound like a nice vacation.

In regards to Livic, the devil is still around, and likely will be for the time being. According to him, his 'father' has decided he needs to learn about our society in order to be a better devil in the future, which means he's sticking around.

While Civ was apprehensive at first, he was also the first to offer Livic a place to stay. They seemed to be pretty at-odds at first, but after they got past a few issues of whose who, who does dishes, and Livic needing to get a job, they seemed to be more chill with each other's presence. If anything, now I have two chittering otters to listen to bad jokes from, except one can accidentally rant about water infrastructure for hours and the other seems to lack modesty when he walks around the house naked.

For now, Livic will be living with us, and I'm forcing him to find a job (after I asked Kelly to 'add' him to the citizenship records after explaining the new hellish friend). He's gotten more docile since I first met him, but now that everything's calmed down, he's returned to his snarky, pervy, fiery self. He's aiming to get a job in the local Hotshots, saying that "he has a knack for fire, which includes putting it out and controlling it". Anything to give that devil otter something else to do than annoy me.

For now, everything should be returning to normal, and luckily this time around, Civ is much less traumatized. I don't think I'll have to do another memory draw, but with the side effects being the creation of such a powerful magical item that can be used for things such as the creation of Livic, I'm hesitant to even do that when it may be necessary. I have plenty to write about for some possible research articles, however.

The only un-normal thing now is dealing with two otters in the house now. Our water bill is going to be so bad now.

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[megamuscle885-blog]

kinda fucked up how egwene destroyed the confidence and social standing (between themselves) of a woman whom she trusted and respected, to the point that nynaeve has a massive crisis of self-confidence that may have contributed to her being beaten by moghedien, the whole deal with birgitte, and her decision to take the group to salidar and hand over her responsibilities and the threat of the forsaken in tel'aran'rhiod (though smart) in the hands of strange aei sedai who might not even support rand.

all so egwene can avoid punishment by the aiel for dreamwalking when she shouldn't be, because they would cease teaching her as per their threat, and rightly so. iirc she only ever decides that she needs to apologize for misleading them on being a full aei sedai (which is a pretty fucked up thing when everyone assumes everything you say is the whole truth, though the fact that egwene helped rand blow shit up at cairhien should've clued the aiel in that she's not bound by the three oaths like all tower trained aei sedai, and I am certain moraine must've brought that up at least once.) and only ever gets punished for her specific toh in that moment.

it is never reconciled, never apologized for, never explained, and egwene belittles nynaeve twice for almost revealing to the wise ones that she's dreamwalking. i don't think they see eachother again until egwene is in salidar and she is then raised to amyrlin seat, and then egwene places special emphasis on nynaeve not undermining her while she leads the rebel aei sedai.

worse still is how egwene's brow beating worked in preventing nynaeve from figuring out that egwene is hiding something from the aiel wise ones, especially after the blowup from egwene in front of amys, who egwene should really trust with anything said in tel'aran'rhiod, and nynaeve and elayne, who already know she's dreamwalking into elaida's study. its really emphasized a little later when nynaeve gets to salidar and shows that she's an incredibly smart person when she's not being rode over and bullied, and figures out the entire scheme between siuan and leane, something they're keeping from the salidar aei sedai so they can continue to manipulate them, practically instantly.

fucked up. sorry if anyone likes egwene particularly and is defensive regarding her, i like her too and she has many redeeming qualities and as many amazing accomplishments, but this is one of the many things that she's never apologized for. it shows more and more that her story is about a complete abandonment of emond's field to become the most aei sedai she can be, and she's certainly adopted bullying and brow beating to get her way in a topic she knew she shouldn't have gotten her way, but valued knowledge acquired through any means necessary over her personal relationships. the aiel aren't spared here either. she ferrets out their secrets, pushes dangerously far beyond what they've taught her and almost damages her relationship with them too when it becomes impossible to continue the lie.

she doesn't even reveal that she's an accepted until she's no longer going to be in the wise one's camp to learn from them, summoned to salidar, at which point there's no real punishment she can suffer from them, short of death, since she'll have learnt everything she can out of them and won't be able to learn anymore anyway, and despite all her talk of acting like an aiel and fulfilling her toh, I seriously doubt she would've calmly accepted death as her punishment if that was what the wise ones decided, even though any other aiel apprentice would have.

anyway, I know I'm not doing a liveblog, I'm just re-reading the wheel of time books and I'm almost finished with the fires of heaven (book 5). wanted to get this thought out there.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 23: Sealed

We get the Wheel icon now that Egwene's taking a big step towards her destiny by becoming an Accepted.

“Is that all there is for me?” she demanded. “To abandon him again and again. To betray him, fail him, again and again? Is that what there is for me?”

"I win again, Latra Posae." I mentioned all this last time as a justification for Egwene's character development and now I'll go even further and say it's a necessary step for her. An Egwene who hadn't seen Rand as failed shepherd, savior, and channeler, who had had the strength to break away from fake Rands despite their suffering is an Egwene who wouldn't have been able to force the seal debate and while we can argue all day about the effectiveness of that plotline, it was a necessary one.

Tension seemed to go out of the other Aes Sedai facing Egwene. Elaida let out a long breath, then hurried away for the last chalice.

Another hint that Elaida is an antagonist but not a monster: she is visibly relieved Egwene is alive. She may well have started the coup early if she had died.

The last words seemed to have a special meaning, just between Egwene and the Amyrlin.

The words of the ceremony aren't different, but the actions alongside them are. At this point, Nynaeve had already been pulled to her feet, while Egwene remains there.

Why don’t I feel any different?

Because the Tower is a hollow enough institution that its ceremonies no longer ring true?

Egwene made herself wait for the Aes Sedai to hand the bundle to her rather than snatch them away. “Thank you, Aes Sedai.” She tried to eye the papers surreptitiously; she could not tell if they had been disturbed.

I'm gonna go with "No, not really," because Elaida would think anything to do with Egwene is dumb and for babies.

I do not believe you will ever be part of the White Tower, not in the way the rest of us are, no matter on which finger you wear your ring.

Elaida's ironically correct in that Egwene will be far more of the Tower than any of the women in this room: two Amyrlins yet to be deposed, two Black Ajah members who will become Keepers and be cast out, and a woman who will commit a crime with her powers considered tantamount to rape. Also at least two other two non-entities.

“I try to protect novices where they need it, since they cannot protect themselves. You are Accepted, now. It is time for you to learn to protect yourself.”

Also Elaida's important politically and Sheriam's after political power, so it's no good to make an enemy of her.

You have my apologies, though words are not enough. Not for what almost happened to you. I say this, and by the First Oath you know it is true. To show my feelings, I will ask the Mother to let me share your time in the kitchens. And, yes, your visit to Sheriam, too. Had I done as I should, you would not have been in danger of your life, and I will atone for it.

What are you playing at Alanna? She's not Black like Egwene fears but even when Egwene assumes that Alanna wants to speak with her specifically, it's not like that ever gets followed up on. Is Alanna already trying to get a Two Rivers boy as a warder? Is she already planning the excursion she'll make to get new recruits and thinks Egwene is a more suitable source of info than Nynaeve?

First, you must love men. I don’t mean be in love with them, but love them. Not like a Blue, who merely likes men, so long as they share her causes and do not get in her way. And certainly not like a Red, who despises them as if every one of them were responsible for the Breaking.

I'd like to be charitable and suggest that Alanna is talking about some sort of love of humankind, but I keep having season two flashbacks and feel safe that I can rule that out.

In the Trolloc Wars, we were often called the Battle Ajah. All Aes Sedai helped where and when they could, but the Green Ajah alone was always with the armies, in almost every battle. We were the counter to the Dreadlords. The Battle Ajah. And now we stand ready, for the Trollocs to come south again, for Tarmon Gai’don, the Last Battle. We will be there.

Just another example of how the mighty have fallen, isn't it? The Greens are up there with Borderland monarchs when it comes to abandonment of their duties.

“I never heard of such a thing,” the Amyrlin barked. “The owner doesn’t muck out with the bilge boys even if he has run the boat on a mudflat.”

Not to be a complete revolutionary here but maybe that's something the owner should do on occasion? Not that Siuan's wrong here that making Alanna the scullion Aes Sedai is in fact a terrible thing. It's a good contrast between her and Elaida, who of course gladly throws away the tiny amount of dignity the Tower has left whenever the whim suits her.

I have told you that you may visit Sheriam. Accompany her tonight when you leave here.

If there isn't a slash fic about this occasion, all the straight dudes and lesbians of this fandom have been letting themselves down, just saying.

“Since you seem to be asleep standing up, child, I suggest you go to bed.” For one instant her glance flashed to the nearly concealed papers in Egwene’s hands. “You have much work to do tomorrow, and for many days thereafter.”

I am relatively certain that Egwene will indeed get almost no real breaks between now and her demise, except maybe a little time at the Stone between this book and the next.

She did not want to be alone, could not stand the thought of it, and so she hurried to the Accepted’s quarters, thinking that tomorrow she would be moving there herself, and immediately after knocking pushed open Nynaeve’s door. She could trust her with anything. Her and Elayne.

It's really sweet that Elayne is already a member of the group like this, for Egwene to trust her so reflexively.

Elayne lifted a face red and swollen from long crying, sniffing through her sobs when she saw Egwene. “I could not be that awful, Egwene. I just couldn’t!”

I wonder what Elayne's three visions were. The first one was probably at the Royal Palace and offered her an idealized version of her family, but the second and third are harder to guess at, except that I think that the third would probably be more like Nynaeve's and take place post-Last Battle. Even the first one's not a certainty. She might well have found herself back in Falme. Anyone got good fic recommendations here?

“It eases with time. It eases, a little. One day we will make them pay our price. Hush. Hush.”

Nynaeve's the best comforter, but sadly they never do manage to make the Tower pay for much of anything, do they?

Next time: The most popular fight in the series!

[ccaptain]

History Fictionologists. Hierarchy & Becoming a ''being'':

I have mentioned in almost every single one of my posts that H:SR Kaeya has lived for what I estimate to be millennias after being turned into a ''being'' of the Enigmata, and had time to develope himself and make experiences mostly by himself. By now, he has enstabilished himself as a kind character, if not a bit weird, with strong morals oriented towards a justice that he perceives.

He defines himself as a Fictionologists, but this isn't the truth. As per usual with the Enigmata and anything involving it, nothing is that simple.

I have imagined that, in this Path, there is a non-spoken hierarchy made of two distinct roles:

- The History Fictionologists, composed mostly of human Emanators of the Enigmata who operate long-distance avatars made from many collected traits from multiple sources. They predominantly work on altering history on paper in their personal Archives. - The ''beings'' of the Enigmata, Emanators turned into non-humans selected by Mythos. Trained to burn away their past identity and turned into eternal creatures, they are essentially back-ups of the limited human Fictionologists and operate on shrouding history in lies with more active approaches. 

These two roles technically belong in the same category- but to a trained eye who knows Fictionologists from experience, ''beings'' will always be recognizable due to the uncanny vibes they emit and can be picked up by other humans.

''It'' is commonly referred to a ''being'' approaching this concept in the first stage, stripped bare of anything they have of value. Social manners. Emotions. Knowledge. Communication skills. A purpose. It's a creature that has returned to Level 0, having to re-learn everything from the bare bones in order to pass off as human. 

A loss of their previous identity is necessary to achieve the status of ''being'' for their safety: while human Fictionologists can create entirely new avatars without the truth about them being revealed and causing them harm, the identity of a ''being'' being shone truth on would vanish as a whole- ''beings'' do not use a long-distance avatar, instead becoming one themselves. And thus, they need their previous identities to whittle away to make them unfoggable- eternally present, a forever unresolved mistery and a threat to those who think the human mind is strong enough to face the truth. To discover the truth behind someone's avatar is to erase it- for ''beings'', the stakes are much higher, and thus this process may seem cruel, but necessary.

The stages of a ''being'' have three phases, named as such by fascinated human Fictionologists:

Level 0, also called the Morphing Phase. The individual enters a slow process of degradation of the self that strips away anything related to their previous personality and identity they had, and morphs them into a new, clean slate with only the basic knowledge attached to what remains of them. It can be a very slow process and varies from person to person.  Level 1, also called Screening Phase. The ''being'' stemmed from the Morphing Phase needs to either re-learn by themselves or be taught again how to properly pass off as a normal human, before it can begin any sort of mission; for everything that they learn, whatever was left of their previous identity, if there were any remnants left of it, is further discarded as they become an entirely different thing. This process has been observed to be significantly sped up by turning oneself into an avatar, as the ''being'' absorbs the knowledge along with whatever traits they select; the name of this phase derives from the word screen as a verb, aka to block, protect or hide someone or something with a screen- related to how gaining different traits as a new avatar effectively acts as if the ''being'' was putting a ''screen'' in front of their true identity. Level 2, commonly paired and also at odds with Level 3, doesn't have a proper name: this was often a point of friction among the Fictionologists, who wanted the last two agents, Riddle and Mirage, to be somehow paired together in a new name to more easilbe able to group. However, after observing the ''beings'' for so long, it has been concluded that their behavior cannot be grouped under a singular name. Some of the ''beings'' grow to naturally pick the Riddle aspect, choosing to spread falselihood through voice and difficult guessing games that often reach a different branch of lies instead of the truth, where others grow closer to the Mirage one- using more tangible methods, such as manuscripts, recounts of historical events on papers, and even visual alterations of historical trinkets. Beings who are able to manipulate both subpaths are considered ''extraordinary'' and held in high regards. At some point, they can even become mentors themselves.

Once a ''being'' has reached the end of the Morphing level, it's usually paired with either a single human Fictionologist, who has expressed interest in teaching to ''it'' until a satisfying level of knowledge is reached, and to document the experience- or with a group of Fictionologists who were extremely attuned in working as a team, in order to not give contrasting instructions to the ''being''.

The Screening Phase can last weeks, months or even years. Every ''being'' takes its time to learn, and every human Fictionologist has their methods to teach. If an human and a ''being'' clash, the ''being'' is immediately reassigned to another proper human teacher in order not to hinder the process too much.

When Level 2, aka the successful ''screening'' is complete through becoming an avatar, the ''being'' is sufficiently proficient in mimicking that it can essentially ''graduate'' and be sent in the outside world to undertake the task of directly shroud history- thus engaging in Level 2 or 3 based on what they feel more inclined to take.

That being said, usually an human Fictionologist and the ''being'' they taught to usually stay in good terms. There are reports of Fictionologists essentially becoming friends or becoming found family for the ''beings'', as they continue to be reported to. This is not frowned upon and has become the normality in how things work, in order for history to continue being shrouded both in writing and person.

[multicolour-ink]

I- don't know why a Star Wars AU never occurred to me as a massive fan! I come to your inbox as a Resident SW Nerd™ to absolutely info dump about George's six films. For your AU, how it'd play out would really depend on what part of the timeline you're going for. If it's during the Original Trilogy (Episodes 4-6), the Jedi are all dead and gone save for Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Luke was sent to live with his aunt and uncle, and Leia was sent to the Organas. Both were meant to stay hidden from their father, Anakin, who became Darth Vader. They were deemed the last hopes for the galaxy to be re-balanced and so had to grow up in hiding. Heck, Obi-Wan and Yoda both had to keep exceedingly low profile to avoid the Empire catching on. I'd argue Obi-Wan never would've taught Luke anything had he not gotten Leia's message from R2-D2, begging him for help. That message set fate into motion. I'm sure mentally, Obi-Wan was going 'Heavens, not again.' Poor guy couldn't escape Skywalker Antics til the day he died. Literally.

Now, if you set this idea in the Prequel Trilogy era (Episodes 1-3) or before it, then the gates are kinda wide open in terms of what you can do??? During the prequels, the biggest thing going on in the galaxy is the Clone War. It's a massive-scale thing, encompassing pretty much all of known space, and it was all put into motion by Darth Sidious/Chancellor Palpatine. He did it to create the Galactic Empire, to be Emperor and hold all the power for himself. By this point, the Jedi have been sucked into fighting in the Clone War when they're meant only to be peacekeepers. They lose their way. They become hypocritical and jaded as a whole. And from the moment Qui-Gon Jinn brings Anakin to them, they act like total jerks. He's too old to be trained, they say. He's too attached to his mother, they say. And then when he's the most powerful Jedi they have, they're threatened by him. And yet they don't allow him to form attachments and love in healthy ways, they don't counsel him when he needs it most in ways that could've helped him. They only tell him what he shouldn't and can't do, or how it's wrong to think/do X, Y, Z. They're harsh and inflexible. Had Qui-Gon lived, he probably would've turned out alright. But he didn't, and it fell to Obi-Wan to train him. Obi-Wan was a pretty by-the-books sort of fellow, and so didn't really know how to guide Anakin in ways he needed. If we roll back further still, the Jedi often tried to do something about people they felt were threats to themselves within their own organization. In Knights of the Old Republic, for example, you play as a character you come to learn was power nerfed AND memory-wiped because you were once a Jedi and became a Sith. It's been ages, so I forget if there's dialogue options to react positively and negatively to that fact. I think there was though. For sure you can choose to stay with the light or go right back to being evil. Anyways, I can't say it's out of the realm of possibility that the Jedi would cast infants into exile or otherwise try to stifle their power if they had an alarming potential of being threats in the future. The foremost way Jedi would determine such a thing in the first place would be if one of their own was especially good at precognition. Almost like a fortune-teller, or clairvoyant of sorts? Basically whoever can see into the future and be pretty much always on the money. Of course- the future is ever-shifting, hard to really see with certainty. Often, if and when the Jedi try to stop something from happening by any means necessary, it happens. The Order did everything to try and make sure Anakin didn't become Sith, but he did. Anakin tried way too hard to keep Padmé alive, she died because of him. Stuff like that.

ANYWAYS THAT'S SOME SEMI LIGHT READING AND KNOWLEDGE ON STAR WARS I'M GLAD I GOT TO SHARE ALL OF THAT WITH YOU.

Star Wars AU

Thank you for that info dump, @timid-plumber . It's always nice to have one with actual knowledge on Star Wars contribute to the AU, considering I only know the barebones of it 🤭

Note: TW for death during childbirth

For the AU, Pio and Mia's story takes place in the time set in the prequel trilogy, while the events with the bros happen during the original trilogy. Sure there are some roles that are different from the source material, but I argue that does make the AU its own thing somewhat.

For example: my idea of the AU was that (during Pio and Mia's story) the Koopas are ever more on the rise with the help of their powerful King, Bowser's father. During these early days, King Koopa Sr is training his very young son how to rule when he takes over, which of course means the Jedi want to stop them as soon as possible before this happens.

Long story short, it all fails. I don't have the necessary details figured out, but I imagine that at some point, Pio and King Koopa Sr battle it out, and Koopa Sr and Pio are killed in the struggle. Leaving Bowser an orphan and taken away by Kamek and the Toadies for his safety. Meanwhile, a heavily pregnant Mia hears of her husband's death, and attempts to flee the base they are on, before it's attacked by the koopa army. During the escape, Mia is gravely injured, then goes into labour not long after. She safely delivers two healthy baby boys, but succumbs to her injuries and dies, leaving her children orphans as well.

The Jedi at this point know that the koopas will be looking for these two, plus one of the Jedi wizards, Merlon (who let's just say is the Yoda and/or Obi Wan in this AU) can sense that there is great force power with these twins. Knowing the koopas don't know there's twins, the decision is made to split them up, in order to lower the chances of the koopas finding them.

[naritaren]

So, here's a little bit of context in regards to the previous anon you received. And to give you the full context, this message might be a little bit lengthy, so I apologize in advance if it's too long. But I'll try not to.

Here goes. Apparently, your friend blackholesun told a person in their DMs to kill themselves, after complaining about being told to "choke on it" and "die mad about it." And somebody saw that you liked the particular post where blackholesun stated that they don't feel bad about sending that message out, because they and their mutuals have allegedly been getting harassed by burner accounts for the past few months.

Now, maybe you didn't mean to like the post or didn't realize what it was about, since you mentioned you were busy during the day. But just yesterday in general, there was a whole drama with Punk stans, because it seems that's what they do best lately and don't have anything better to do. And it all started with a burner account sending out messages to multiple people about a user and blog owner named biancabelairs.

Regardless of how it all started and even if it was true that your friend and other mutuals were getting harassed, it doesn't excuse blackholesun in the slightest and doesn't make them the better person by any means. These people didn't have to engage or let it escalate to the point that it did. They could've simply just ignored it, deleted the messages or even report them if it was necessary, and just gone about their day. But they literally wasted their whole day on that alone, continued to engage and keep the drama going, and I'm supposed to feel bad they got told to "choke on it" and "die mad about it"?

Yeah, no. Anyone that deliberately goes out of their way to antagonize and intentionally provoke a person, instead of just letting things go, deserves whatever they get hit back with from that person. They deserve whatever is said back to them. So, your mutuals and all these Punk fans bear the responsibility. Had they just ignored it the first time around, none of this would've happened.

But again, Punk fans have become bitter and jaded and full of hate, that I'm not surprised this is the behavior they're sinking to now. So again, I don't feel bad for whatever hateful things gets said to them, because it's what they deserve. They want to act like that? Well, learn to take it the same way you dish it out. It's not anyone's fault their fave no longer has a job. As much as it sucks, time to get over it and move on and grow up. The world doesn't revolve around Punk.

-blinks- and why does this have to involve me? Like what is fucking wrong with you that you feel the need to involve someone who isn't involved. Especially when I have intentionally stayed out of the Punk fans vs Elite fans drama???

Please re-evaluate what you consider spending your time doing. If you continue to send asks I'm just going to block and report for harassment. I am not involved in this and I don't wish to be involved in this.

So stop trying to fucking involve me in this. This is the type of shit that makes some of you fans look deranged. Get a fucking hobby. I beg of you.

[aurelleporine]

Hello, Hayden Crappell here. I've come to apologize again, being I'm non-existent in this community again. I thought that this is my final attempt at making things right. I Realize I need to go to the worst place I fear things most, this post.

I want to come and publicly apologize for my previous actions a year-to-a-couple years ago. I was undergoing medicinal and mental issues during high school. I thought that being 17 meant I was invincible, which I was not. I knew, despite this evidence, I would inevitably fall from "grace".

I want to apologize, and I understand that I am a horrible person. Or... Was. I eventually got medicinal treatment, and bettered myself. I'm not sure how popular I'll ever be again. But if you want to see someone who truly had a heart out for people, that's who i actually wanted to be, not this creep.

I understand that what I did is irreversible, and at the time of me being so bizarre, I became worse because of private/unprivate drama, I'm not sure how much leaked out. As of now, I have zero hatred towards R.V. Pine, and I want to come, even though incredibly late, to apologize.

I realize the severity of my wrongdoings, and I hope that people can re-visit me. I understand how I look to all of you, a miserable wretch with no help.

But since that time, I've matured, become a man, a person who honors someone, who will not be willing to make a mistake such as this, a man who has learned from his mistakes. And I'm asking for support again. I have conquered my fear of facing my burdens here. And if necessary, flame me. I respect it.

I've tried to avoid ever coming back here for anything, I've abandoned tumblr for fear of rejection.

in fact, what I suffer with is Manic Bipolar, I have drastic mood swings, I have depression, anxiety, ADHD, and most importantly, Autism. I have no excuse to undermine my issues, my burdens I've set upon people. And to be frank? I'm dead-wrong.

So please, understand my viewpoint. And pine, if you see this, I'm incredibly sorry I've been so hateful to you. You're talented, and I was jealous of such a potential. I envied the days I would hopefully reach Toby Fox, wanting to be someone who could help make his game for him, a dream job if you will.

And the fame of my artistical presence got to me. I apologize, but now I'm ready to re-tackle it if people are willing. I understand that I sometimes have outbursts of anger, that I am imperfect, but so are all of us. And now that it has been so long... I'm sorry.

Here's a photo of me to prove it's actually me talking. I'm incredibly sorry to everyone who saw me in such a horrible condition and ceased supporting me. I want to be your one of your favorites, I deeply wish to please and help people be happy in life with my music and ideas.

I've tried for a long time to resist my mental issues, to throw them away. But no, being a man, a person who is learning every day, is to confront their problems with grace, and respect. Humility. I am sorry to everyone involved in any project I've ever had, I am sorry I affected you, said sexually explicit things to someone who I was interested in (17 years old), and I'm sorry for everyone who had firsthand experience with my mental issues.

You mean everything to me still, despite my agonizing rage I've thrown. I am sorry, and I just want people to love me again. That's why I get so bitter. I'm sorry about that too, actually. I'm working on fixing that. Please... Understand. Thank you.

Goodbye for now.

Very short "AWARENESS?" type post.

Not the kind of thing I like to do, but a user known as "Hayden Crappell" has been extremely creepy towards Temmie Chang and has been harassing and talking smack about multiple people. I'd recommend that people NOT interact with this user.

He has talked sexually about Temmie Chang on multiple occasions, someone who outright expressed discomfort before. I had made a comment trying to get through to him, telling him to stop talking about me as I want no involvement in his creeping on Temmie. He deflected this by bringing up that I was acquainted with "The Joker." Instead of actually taking time to reflect on the kind of person he is, he ignores criticism and pretends he has a divine sign telling him he's correct.

This parasocial crap will not stand with me.

[wayward-hums]

To convey certain sentiments - and thus materialise the unfettered stream of the characters' thoughts, conducting us all through the forthcoming retrospective story below, as the endmost (doubtless Beckett-desperate) attempt to communicate with you, and thus to engender an invitation worthy of consideration - I come here today to cultivate a plausible interplay.

 

Every attempt to reverse the psychological effect of what Bea would call an unguided path of "deconstructed reconstruction" (she had thoughtlessly subjected herself to) has been short-lived and ineffectual. That being so, Bea has persisted in brooding over the impossible word - "escape", brought on by the enduring aftermath of her fundamental failure since her "I" returned with nothing, and got down to an inept T. The preliminary idea of the curtain, Bea had once deliriously formulated and believed - without forethought - to be her own, she then subsequently re-discovered, ingeniously exercised within a discourse, which resulted in an emotionally rewarding state of her irrevocable segregation being momentarily undone, for which she remained indebted always. Around that moment in time Phoebe came to existence, becoming the result of Bea's journey behind the curtain, the very effect of formulating nothing into existence. While Mike... Mike is the unattainable soul, the rover of the borders. His existence is necessary to understand the dichotomy between the materialist vs the spiritual.

 

The story begins in the very middle where, thrown inside Mike's day, you, dear reader, may venture along. Here lies the account of our failures:

 

 

To which Mike sighed. He looked through the prism of past few hours at the hospital, remembering his daughter creating circles in the air, thinking he could no longer see The One I Love song by R.E.M. as a hate song. He's learned to notice and understand his daughter's most basic, yet truly profound needs, captured in the shape of Nauthiz – a rune of the primordial need, of the need of fire, warmth, and communion. Listening to The One I love Song on the radio made him realise that "fire" directed at "the one I love" was not necessarily from the blow of one's gun, but more of a symbol of some great need for human connection that Mike has been lacking due to his own lack of need, or perhaps an inability, to connect with anyone. He didn't bother analysing it further. On his way home, the sounds and vision of Phoebe's linguistic creations came rapidly to his mind in a flash, running fast through his mind. The way she could bring into his mind an absolute sense of disorder, caused by his sheer lack of understanding of the abstract that Phoebe's words and actions were made of. She was brighter and faster than the speed of light; his 9 year old with kaleidoscope eyes and raspberry hat, almost as fast as her mother, but less distinguished. She was the embodiment, and the spirit of the impossible jouissance.

 

Bea hasn't gone to visit Phoebe in the hospital for a while, there was too much worry in her pupils regarding her daughter, so Mike never mentioned anything much, he never said a word of the way she affected his thoughts. No mentioning of The One I Love digression - that came back in his thoughts once again, as the love song forever changed - was spoken. Mike reduced his words to the minimum, which was for the best for both of them. Going back home felt to Mike like entering Schizopolis scenario – Bea knew how he was from the moment he swallowed saliva when the key turned in the door and that was enough to say. He was a portal on a way home, trying to combine his daughter's infinite abstractions, while somehow quietly managing Bea's rainbow of restrained impulsivity – like a rock buried in the hot sand under grassy plains, he remained silent most of the time. As aforementioned, for the best. 

 

"Back home once again, but what is home?” He asked himself, wondering consciously loud enough for Bea to sense. He wondered whether the exceptionally blameless isolated existence of their daughter was truly certain, in the era where children lost their innocence a decade earlier, where the sky turning red was not just a plausibility but almost a certitude reaching absolute, where one couldn't find love amidst the rubble of the lost world any longer; not that Mike was capable of providing love out of himself, even for Phoebe, no, there was no "Fire" for anyone, not even himself - Mike's forced indifference was final, his Nauthiz beyond recall, he stopped wondering. The rune of the primordial need, Nauthiz, was sensed from without of Mike, coming directly through Bea and how much she was able to communicate love using her intangible motions. “Can I see?” Bea asked, reaching half-blindly, her right hand slightly lifted, palm open, pointing across the room to feel the pulsating magnetic field of her husband's heat. “I'd like to know what our daughter said today. As we are entering Frightened Rabbit phase and it all doesn't feel aligned just yet...” Bea expressed her need in words, she couldn't communicate telepathically any more in the apartment, too many unpleasant frequencies living in the building, too much interference, and even if she was able to, Mike's mind was like a cement block perfectly safe and incapable of telepathy. Bea, due to her condition, also lived in isolation, away and high above, maintaining close to sanity state. Her daughter was only an idea to her, not a bodily mass of veins and sensations, just a mere idea, almost like herself if not for the feeling that too many people believed that they're alive so she couldn't disappear just yet.

 

Mike took his recorder out and placed it on the table. “She said quite a lot of weird shit today”, he added, “I'm almost sure this will mean something to you, though”. There was no offence meant, Mike could never grasp these things the way Bea did. His individual function was to travel across sounds and bring self to places of destiny, then rest until the next move. In Bea's house he was just a station on the way, but he liked it here. For the life of him he couldn't remember how Phoebe came to existence. As if she has always been the way she was now. The way she is to you, my reader, with no past, no formulation, outside of creation itself, appearing out of nothing. The word is "sublimation" but that is not for Mike to know. So he never asked, simply assuming he lost it during the most formative years, that the ever changing hostility of the environment played a part in his failure to remember. 

 

Bea pressed play on the recorder Mike handed to her, the cassette started with Phoebe's immensely excited voice. 'Oh Hai Daddy, I solved the backscratcher riddle on my own, well, with a little bit of help from Anthony, see I needed, uhm, a point of reference to solve this...It was like all the orbits merged from without and came into my eyes to dissolve, taking all systems of bodily organs from mains, forming a passage with the end of my... anus, you know, slowly, to then finally disappear. Then I realised there was no change to who was scratching whom, I only needed another body of another subject to discover that. There is no difference whether the bird is scratching another or the other is scratched by the one or even itself, as the first bird is - first and foremost - the other bird too, and secondly - neither exist beyond the idea of themselves scratching' “Who would have thought” said Bea, smiling, “That's certainly one way of solving that riddle, isn't it”. Mike felt there's been less tension in his chest and no more magnetic pain of Bea's aura around him anymore. She seemed serene, he thought, and this consoled him slightly, for the things Bea believed in stayed like a needle in his pupil deprived of explanation, they just consumed him from the inside, from his innermost sense of fear of the inexplicable. Not being able to relate was annoying, frustrating, sometimes frightening. He was tired of this regime of the non-stop methodology of Bea's wordless utterances. Sometimes it was intolerable, forcing Mike to search for random violet decorative lights on neighbouring windows out of confusion. Sometimes Bea let go after his frantic search for avoidance, his escape from her telepathic efforts, her constant looking for the way through to him. She would be whispering words like: “It's not for you to send a child to count the stars in the basement, or to wait for fire trucks to come, this is the deal of the violet ones you're focusing on, not yours”. To Mike, Bea made no sense, yet she could strike the inner notes in his heart, so he kept coming back. He already knew for a very long time that he can only understand the language of her soul when he is silent. Words didn't mean that much to him, the messages waiting to be discovered were hidden in pauses and inflections. He felt confident he can travel outside safely, thanks to the ability of catching the moments in between of hums and noises, and swinging towards destined points without much purpose, other than some compulsion and a sense of a quest. His tinnitus was a drag, a small price to pay to roam the streets filled with confusion and wonderment, without much hassle or angst, without black-tinted glasses, (normally necessary to withstand the stare of the youth), without any real or imagined demon sitting on his backpack. It was the closest form of freedom he could allow himself to feel. He was very lucky, for most humans at this point we're too scared to call themselves free any longer. Freedom was reserved for children and madmen, and Mike was the lucky neither, he was ingeniously placed in this realm as an exception. 

 

Outside there were young kids storming the avenue, while Mike could enter each and every street like dust with boots on, disregarding children's frantic laughter, assured he won't be offered a "handshake" consisting of three fingers, each finger a slight, fleeting chance to be left in peace, in one piece. Everyone knew what a handshake offered by a kid meant by now; most men grew afraid of children within the past few years, while the young ones grew in power. Some people said it was the amount of blood and excrements in the river that made them this ferocious over the years. Bea knew that it wasn't the only reason why, however she was never able to say it to anybody, therefore the reason remained buried in her to everyone, even me.

 

“I need to go now”, Mike said. Bea nodded without much interference to her force. He would leave and continue being okay, there was no doubt about that, Mike was like a brick made of fine clay and hyper-sensors. Out of them two it was only Bea who felt anxiety of detaching from the most present and solitary sense of being and reattaching her magnetic pull with the overpowering outside world to the point of total absorbance, a point of a melted elephant leg in a reactor. Then, without much warning, all the kids of the void would come running around wildly, rendering her psychic shake-down obsolete. With their fire eyes and savage laughter, turning their inner snakes into split, twisted, and shouting operas of pharmaceutical wisdom making her powerless in an instant. She has been refusing to embrace that more than Mike's been trying to avoid her pulling telepathic tensions.

 

"I know I'm missing something vital but I'm too concerned about going outside and losing whatever is left of my current", Bea thought. "There's an element inside of me that is very far away. I'm so anxious. I'm holding on a rope that lays its distance from where I am, going all directions into nothingness, and in between there's a fuzzy blur... I can't place myself in time. Further away things seem vague, dark, and sticky.” There was a tactile sensation – a sudden drop of the atmosphere that became deep violet and thick like pudding. Electricity intensified and Bea's soul's lightning rod was seriously shaken in the very core of existence. Like when one falls in love from the first sight, but in the uttermost cynical and negative way, in the way there's certitude of one's despair being forever present. Bea immediately felt the death of things in themselves and died without a whisper once again. It took a moment to regain composure, the subsequent constitution of the daydreaming undead with its myriad of inner pain.

 

After Mike left, several children ruling the streets passed him by, shouting some tribal chants to the glory of that moon or another. Otherwise he was not being bothered. Only a handful of adults, unafraid of the handshake, walked the pavements with their full gear on, necessary to breathe properly. It was a kind of mercy and grace of the multiverse to still walk these polluted alleys and dirty streets, all almost completely deserted since the water became too alive for the kids to experience any form of childhood or innocence. At some point the living, ever expanding evil in the water became a compulsory fragment of human existence, there was no stopping to this. The memory kept within it and the amount of death and abjection it carried, created a truly vivid concoction of neutral chaos in children. Most adults remained physically unaffected by the water itself, as any adult is the entity of the loss of innocence by the age of 25, the water's abjection only made the adults more susceptible to fear and anxiety coming from the outside factors, having major psychological effect on the way they dealt with real or imaginary threat. Children used this fact to their maximum potential.

 

Bea wondered if the kids could have experienced the same hallucination from the beginning, the one she experienced looking into Mike's mind when he was sleeping: there was a man falling in bluish-purple haze, his waving arms and colossal palms stretched outward in the cry to be grabbed and pulled up. He has been the first to be expelled from the plateau of the living through the crack opening in the endless, multidimensional tunnel, sucking everything (and everyone able to see him) behind. His gravitational pull was immense. Like fireworks in the long distance, and an evocative, fluttering, violet man-shaped firefly upon closer look. He was physically felt in that paper thin opening around the rib section under the armpit, somewhere there... where the psychic light would get out without proper resistance, a place where a different set of arms could happen, perhaps, somewhere else in our multiverse. We were all him in the face of nothingness, chasing that vividly animated precursor, the glowing watchmaker of light. The hallucination was followed by the act of transitioning. Most people... most adult people ended up red or violet. Hardly anyone was allowed to repeat the process through the restraint inside their own mind. The ones who turned out blue were very rare. 

 

“I have become green when i transitioned, but that was a second transition from my former violet”. Bea has been more of a floater these days, thanks to the act of her transforming passage happening twice, she was allowed to float, yet she still remembered (from the times of being violet and torn between above and below) that it wasn't the fall itself that hurt people who saw Him - the hallucination of the forever falling man - it was what came after, the great hurt that came after the fall. “In our mind his collapse is endless, suspended in between of time, as if thrown into a black hole”, she thought. For people like her, who understood the game of the screw and the possibility of dying while trying to reach for a shoe, there was no other way but to zing-zag from Him in order to find the way back onto the plains. Sheep may safely graze unslaughtered there, as if forgotten by the butcher. She was green, and that was safe. Floating and no longer sinking in torn violet.

 

Mike, on the other hand, had his Cain sent to sleep in a different fashion, though. Someone particularly dangerous placed a figurine of sticks and clay where his solitary trip unfolded when he was much younger. And thus, Mike never happened to see the falling man-dragon, he was never given the opportunity, being incapable of such perception violently taken away from him. Bea thought that the sole reason for his courage laid in the inability to open the doors of perception at will. Mike has been left out. His reliance on synchronised sounds without vision was a blessing and a curse, for he was not able to cross the plain aware of the forces of subconscious. Perhaps, for his own good the wisdom of giants kept passing him unnoticed, they had no desire for his defragmented spirit.

 

Neither Mike nor Phoebe were aware how many times Bea died. One could argue that she simply died all the time. Phoebe, however, also galloped manic in the face of moor-lit death mother like a tiny nocturnal star. She has been on the same course without crossing just yet, without looking what's behind the curtain. Adults in her centre were seen as almost completely burned out, mostly crimson celestial bodies, sad red souls. Phoebe had the ability to point her finger at every dead star, not just the Black Death Mother that Bea eclipsed with when Phoebe was conceived. Most adults were just black holes, uninteresting and inciting pity. Phoebe never felt like throwing them a ladder and she was too far gone to ever maintain the idea of a three-finger handshake, it was left to the street roamers, and Phoebe... well, Phoebe was perhaps the most remote, uniquely innocent child in the city of ghosts.

 

After her father left, she started snapping her fingers like a magician performing a trick. The motion just didn't want to let go off her. With one arm reaching down to her knee, turned back around the lower part of her thigh, and another, raised up above, over the head to the right. Snap. Two middle fingers and two thumbs synced. She wanted to bother Anthony with her new addition from the disappearing sequence but resigned from the idea seeing him hovering over the armchair. “That's low” she thought, “Like David Bowie, he's evoking Warsaw, heading towards Berlin to reach Lou Transforming”, a strange thought occurred in her ever strange head. On the TV there was a commercial – Iggy Pop doing some yoga on the beach. “Iggy corresponds to my left hand”, Phoebe pondered, “The other two don't need communication any more, since they are both gone, David and Lou are no more. David brings a candle alongside his dying body, something that Iggy could not do yet. Crocodiles could be petted in the garden, if Iggy paid a tribute to the architecture in my dreams." That is, if he knew anything at all about his impact on her psychology while the commercial lasted. Iggy, David, Lou, and hovering Anthony sent Phoebe on a psychic journey that enveloped the timespan of over 80 years from 1939 up to the moment of looking at the TV screen, and that was – so far – the shortest her ego travelled within the nick of one snap of her fingers. That made Phoebe very excited but she decided to keep this adventure to herself, her journal buried deep inside her astonishing mind. She has been regaining some control over her present moment, no longer drifting from utter oblivion back to her current self in rapid, uncontrollable movements of a soul, the way it used to be when she was before here and now, in the buried space and a state of mind no longer there to retrieve. 

 

As her final resolve, while avoiding death Bea would try to drive her body away from her. The conclusive 'hee' before her last 'haw', as she would bend to tie her black leather shoes. It was a fixed prophecy, glued onto one date that Bea was remotely aware of, and seldom pondered upon, "I'm going to die like Artaud" she thought. She also thought that by now Phoebe should have established a stronger link with her own presence and she was not mistaken. It hurt Bea to witness her daughter drifting in the void for so long, detached from the god of '-ing' - Inguz. Phoebe's ability to reach more definite points in time instead of the whole lifespan of... well... life itself, were directly pointing towards the alignment that Bea has been following ever since Phoebe was created. In only a few days her daughter would reach the present continuous moment and understand the essence of Inguz – the god in a solemn wait, always ready to seize with its fingers, perpetually, anticipating the very current of his present moment. Phoebe's seed of presence was almost completely ready to swallow itself. Ready to be still, and like God itself – absent.

 

Mike felt uneasy thinking how long it has taken for his day to emerge from darkness. Unlike the need of Nauthiz, Inguz was his strong movement, and through Bea's teachings he was managing to be rid of the demons surrounding his body in crave for his fixed presence and virtue. Bea mentioned the exact date and how it - the frightened rabbit - she said, would catch full circle on the Third of December 2020. Everything was coming to a close. Mike was taking it relatively well, he learned not to mourn any potential, mentally sensed loss, as all his and Bea's lives were just a constant adjustment to it. He didn't know what to expect from the day of the Frightened Rabbit, other than he kept feeling some unexplained odd loss in the time space for Bea and his daughter. What it was precisely, though, he could not tell.

 

The Frighten Rabbit then arrived. Just like any day happening after another, it begun, without a warning message, without a murmur. The frightened rabbit killed its yesterday and forced presence upon all.

 

Phoebe woke up feeling that for the first time her ego was set, carved in stone at the very right-here-and-now moment. In that very instant Anthony who just entered the room looked at her like he would stare at some peculiar weather anomaly. Phoebe never really had a chance to acquaint herself with other children due to their more or less prominent selective mutism and other issues unknown to the rioting young brethren on the outside. “I guess this is it”, she said quietly. All people in the hospital began their spiritual awareness – everyone around Phoebe (that was already almost entirely transparent) ceased to believe they were alive, for when one person ceases to believe they are alive, the other one truly and solely present can essentially vanish, fearlessly. With a careful eye, Phoebe could even notice the walls slightly shrinking and some of more colourful adults of less crucial, crimson red auras momentarily flickering in and out of existence, petrified they will cease to exist too, their fear groundless and anxiety unsubstantiated for the very essence of their fear was what kept them material and set in reality in the first place, away in the perfect, simple, past or future tenses unable to catch the glimpse of continuity. Phoebe knew she had no fear, so in that about one minute long moment she disappeared completely. And that was it. Her final grand magical performance. Her universe turned into a shape of a dented button attracting all the dust to where she once was, like a sucking navel, and from the thick dust a concrete rabbit skull was formed to replace Phoebe's place in reality. A no longer frightened-rabbit-skull in place of Bea's child.

 

Bea felt unnaturally complete as she came to collect her daughter's belongings, she didn't want to cry against the cold window pane when the coal's black dust was blowing right at her daughter's basement room. The clocks inside the place Phoebe used to occupy were ahead, one hundred and twenty five seconds away from real time. If they were synchronised, Phoebe most likely would feel more of a tender prey and less like another human being, but let's leave this occurrence deprived of clarification for there are others out there who still benefit from such errors and I mean them no harm. “The children are chanting in a circle” Bea noticed, while carrying the rabbit skull forward. She also thought that professor Zizek was wrong thinking there's no centre, and that was why he got Bell's palsy at the same time as Bea did. “What if the centre was a ditch, a dent, your own Ha-Ha around the garden?” she thought. "What if the centre was the absent God Inguz no longer in any need or desire, aware of the overpowering present moment, eaten by the sole existence of itself"

 

Birds saw Bea's floaters in her eyes as she couldn't catch black snow of the coal, a great tear forming in her eye slowly drying without the emergence, without notice, without - like Phoebe - the opportunity to ever fall, and like Bea's deaths - innocent and purposeless. 

 

“What did we achieve, Mike? In between of these columns when we found ourselves in the world?” "We moved architecture together”, he replied. "There's always been one hell of a strategy against it". 

 

 

Fin.

[aheartscraving]

introduction

hello!

after much deliberation, i've decided to make a secondary blog to explore some of my 18+ interests and desires. i am not comfortable revealing myself so this is just going to be a mask i put on from time to time. i'm a shapeshifter, what else should i be?

without getting into specifics, let's say that even though i'm on my late 20s, i missed out on most life experiences including exploration of sexuality out of guilt, shame, a feeling that it wasn't adequate or correct for me to do so, etc. long, life-altering depressive state. a couple of years ago someone very dear to me shook me out of that place and gave me a lot to think about, and i'm finally deciding to be more open about things i repressed for a long time, at least as far as writing things on this blog.

it is important to note than being open about anything sexual, for me, is new. so in that regard, expression, i am pretty vanilla as i don't really know how to do that and i haven't been part of 18+ circles to learn.

horny

as far as the things that turn me on... i am honestly really intrigued by domming. not so much for power, but out of a desire to see someone desperately want and need me. now i wouldn't want to be controlling in a toxic sense, but i think i have a lot of issues about feeling adequate, and seeing someone in a position where they would completely remove that anxiety out of my mind on a more instinctual sense... is one of the most attractive things i could imagine. i don't think i could feel free to express myself if i didn't have that. so i am pretty attracted to anyone leaning more towards submissiveness basically, although my personal preference would probably be someone who is less shy and more eager. i also fantasize a lot on the idea of getting said person off via care, praise, and essentially, just confirmation that they're loving our connection in the moment. it sounds a bit silly, but that's kind of what does it for me. i want to hear you make noises. i want to hear exactly how you feel.

self-description

dark eyes. dark medium length hair with bangs that cover my face. i have a penis. that's as much physical description as you're getting out of me.

do not recite gender to me, i avoid that bitch with a two meter pole. i am exclusively attracted to women, kinda wish i was one. might become one in the near future, or at least as far as my brain allows me to say that. less so interested in the gender performance of it all and more into wanting my body and the perception people have of me to fundamentally change. again, i have issues, and i do not wish to be associated with anything re: masculinity.

closing thoughts

uhh, as an extra, the most attractive person to me would probably be someone who is super open and honest about her desires and wouldn't feel any shame in going for them. someone who is happily expressing herself. also a straight up weirdo with a lack of understanding of social cues, instead just doing her own thing. in terms of physical attraction... tall, pale, broad shoulders, short to medium hair with bangs, hook nose. none of these are necessary, but they are traits that immediately captivate me. if you must know, my first crush kinda had those features, and that kinda became my basis for attractiveness, so...

anyway, that's all! and in case it wasn't obvious enough from reading this post, i am autistic btw 👍 and also a virgin! surprising, i know!

oh! i took that bdsm test everyone always talks about the other day. here's my results:

if anyone ever wants to talk about anything please feel free to reply to, ask, or DM me at any time!

part of my recovery is trying to talk to people and not being as much of a hermit, and would honestly love to talk to people about things i never expressed to others before too, as that is the purpose of this blog.

thank you for reading this, i hope you have a nice day.

[smiletimeisrunningout]

okay I added a shadow and bone verse to Emma's modern page

which tomorow will need to be re-read for potential mistakes, but I feel more complete now. Below the cut, obviously in addition to her main/default description:

Naturally this universe requires more 'adaptations' because there are no USA and it's not the modern world, but most plots stay the same (loving, rich parents, the ex) but stealing the beginning from her fantasy counterpart (though in canon she's the protagonist and has infinite power, but I don't want to take Alina's place with her). Emma is a princess from a land that isn't mentioned in the show, Mysthaven, west of Kenst Hjerte, and to reflect the fact that in canon she's the personification of "true love", "the hero", "the savior", she should have a special power that comes from her bloodline, similar/overlapping with heartrender abilities but more powerful: she can control the chemicals in someone's brain and produce the emotions she wants, and to take away physical pain/exhaustion. Touching the person amplifies it but it's not always necessary - HOWEVER there is a catch: the way she manipulates chemicals goes to mess with hers too. If she takes away someone's pain, she will feel it. If she's giving someone happiness, she'll feel as sad as they are happy and vice versa. If she's giving them calm, she'll feel anxiety. The more she gives, the more she feels, the longer she makes them feel it, the longer she feels it too. In a way, she's her own amplifier and her power grows with her emotions. 

Her skills only manifested after her ex, Arian, broke her heart so deeply, and she initially had no control on them just like she had none on her emotions; their land had been ruled by her evil step-mother before, a Grisha who was ironically a heartrender and enjoyed stopping people's hearts, the Evil Queen, so it became immediately clear that her people wouldn't accept taking such a risk again. For all they knew, Emma could become the queen who would make them all despair so she could feel happier, no matter how kind and loving she was before and no matter how benevolent her parents were. So Emma, after somewhat overcoming her depression and training both physically and power-wise, decided to leave the throne to avoid a needless war, and let her parents choose a different successor if that was what her people wanted.She's an adventurer, not a fugitive, but being recognized as the princess Grisha can be a problem, so while she doesn't exactly hide her identity she's living nearly like a regular person (aside from having more money). She never uses her powers on other normal people without consent, because otherwise she feels like she's drugging them and taking away their choice, and if she gets in a fight or is going after an ordinary criminal she'll just punch, kick and stab her way out of it. But she does use her powers and excessive force when dealing with abusers and other figures who commit crimes that won't get them arrested, either because they scare or pay off their victims. At first it only happened every now and then, it's easier to learn about these situations when around criminals all the time, but then it became a thing, and now she's more of a vigilante pro-bono than anything else. Everything else that is said in her main backstory can be considered true here too, adapting it to this universe (likes to play videogames = likes games. Changes accent a lot. Can be anywhere near your characters.)

[darkcircles4lyfe]

Beware the Illusion of Control

There will come a time when you need that mask, the truth you’ll borrow from that lie. Yet as you shelter in the dark behind the vale, be sure it does not become you.

I gotta say, I’ve never seen such a wide variety of opinions on a chapter coming from our side of the fandom alone. My own opinion has changed a few times. I’ve been questioning what I think more than usual, double and triple guessing, re-examining every point. In short, I like where this is going, and I’ve noticed a few things. But what kept tripping me up, and I think a lot of other people too, is this idea of control. What does it mean to control your heart, in this context? The way I see it, there are really only two ways to control something: either by channeling it or by holding it back. Thus, there are two ways to interpret Banjo’s advice. I’m pretty sure Izuku’s taking it the latter way. Remember that image of a bolted door? When blackwhip awakened, it was used to show Izuku had a power “waiting for him down the road” that he said he wasn’t ready for yet. The really odd thing is, it came up again, when 2nd talked about his quirk. The door does not symbolize a specific quirk then, but rather a part or a mechanism of Izuku himself. Something in him is still being locked away. My assumption is that he is not yet able to use blackwhip to its fullest potential, and that being “ready” for it refers not to his skill or his strength, but his emotions. With all this in mind, “controlling your heart” should not mean holding back, since that is what Izuku has already been doing. You don’t get rid of a locked door by locking it harder. Or by prying it open a crack only to relock it. There’s probably something to be said here about how therapy works, how you have to deal with your feelings out in the open in order to understand them. And until you understand them, you will never be able to control them.

 But all Izuku seems to be capable of right now is varying levels of restraint. In this last panel, blackwhip is literally restraining his mouth, his voice, like a gag or a mask, holding back his still livid expression. 

I can’t help but notice Banjo’s face here. He looks... concerned? The rest of the vestiges present all look relatively neutral, except for him. This might be a stretch, but if you follow all of their sight lines, the rest appear to be looking at Shigaraki, while Banjo is looking at Izuku. It’s subtle, but notice especially him vs Nana. So, let’s say Banjo is worried about Izuku. This would be a sign that the way Izuku is attempting to assert control is not what Banjo meant.  

Assertive control is a like dagger, and assertive self control is driving that dagger right into your own heart and killing it. Obviously there are instances where it is necessary to do so, but the pain is always there, and the numbness too. Needless to say I am worried for how self destructive Izuku is being. This is why I emphatically do NOT align with the idea that Izuku’s current behavior is a sign of his character development. I think he needs to learn to harness the power of his emotions, and he isn’t there yet. He needs to let it flow with lucid grace and precison, like the arc of a whip. 

How will he get there? Will Shigaraki test the limits of his restraint until he is forced to find another way? Will someone intervene? He is experiencing some fear or shame I think, so the second idea makes sense to me. I also have a bad feeling that since we have just been shown what happens when Katsuki has to fight Shigaraki without Izuku, we will now be shown what happens when Izuku has to fight Shigaraki without Katsuki. And it will go just as badly, because the point is to prove how much they need each other. So I assume, anyway, if Heroes Rising’s ending is anything to go by. Izuku needs to embrace his emotions, and he needs Katsuki. Where do you suppose that leaves us?

One more thing: you know how Yoichi and All Might are not in the last panel? You know how All Might is with Katsuki? You know how Yoichi was last seen expressing worry about something? Horikoshi framed that scene perfectly to make it seem like he somehow sensed the jets coming to meet them as a threat, but I think that in reality, the jets appearing interrupted Yoichi from something unrelated. He disappeared immediately after. Maybe he foresaw the possibility of Shigaraki targeting Katsuki, and he’s now in the process of enacting some plan to protect against it. This could involve rescuing Katsuki(’s spirit?), fascilitating communication between them to resolve Izuku’s emotional block, and working out a way for them to still fight together. 

How any of this could be possible, I’m not sure, but I’m dead certain we’re close to hearing Izuku speak his truth. I can’t wait to finally hear from our dear protagonist again.