#Because one thing is that these letters are not linear even if they seem like it!

[ignited-lovers]

Dear Detective;

It's a new day and my thoughts are still so fixated on you. I try to push them away but they push back, so I've decided to accept it and let the thoughts continue as our love grows in secret. You have become a big part of my heart and I wanted you to know that.

Sincerely,

A mystery author.

[suguann]

✎. he’s nice. well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you.

tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, simon is an excon, non-linear narrative for future chapters [18+ only]

part one | part two

He’s always been a little obsessed with pretty things, even as a child.

It only makes sense that the habit would follow him into adulthood.

He sees you once while he’s walking by the bus stop. A timid thing wrapped up in an oversized sweater and parka coat, not looking up from the little book in your lap until the bus stops before you and takes you away.

The next time he sees you, he makes sure to come a few minutes earlier, lighting a cigarette and keeping his distance while he watches you read the same book from the day before. Simon knows it’s you, the girl from the letters, even if it’s a big city. It has to be—his pretty, lonely, silly girl.

He thinks about walking up to you just to make sure, but he doesn’t really need to. The address on the envelope brought him here, and you’re the only one he’s seen wearing a university sweater in this neighborhood.

But when he hesitates too long, a boy starts talking to you, and he watches you smile at somebody else.

Simon runs his thumb over his bottom lip and takes a deep breath to fill his chest with the soothing feeling of menthol and the burning taste of nicotine, trying to relax his white-knuckle grip on his steering wheel. 

You’ll learn, he thinks, when the bus drives off, and the boy doesn’t follow you on. He’s a patient man—it’s possibly one of his finer qualities.

He lets his car idle as he climbs out before crushing his cigarette bud underneath his shoe, straightening his black tie, and crossing the street. The boy sees him and freezes, but Simon can only laugh, wiping blood off his cheek several seconds later.

You’ll learn.

He’s nice.

Well, that’s what everyone’s been telling you. But nice, you've learned, can mean any number of things: a nice laugh, a nice house, a nice job, et cetera.

But how he holds himself—tall, broad, and dangerous—hardly screams nice.

It’s funny because you don’t remember seeing him around the office before—the company, including IT, occupies only four floors in the building. 

Someone tells you he’s a friend of a friend. This initially sounds odd until Rose, the office gossip, says he’s someone rich who helps fund the company's social events. Hence, the crisp suit and the wide berth of space you’d give someone who wields their smile like a weapon. 

You quickly look away twice when you find that smile aimed at you, heat traveling up to your hairline at an alarming rate.

It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s not your type. 

“Enjoying the party?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin at the deep voice so close to your ear. Careful not to spill your drink, you turn your head to find him smiling down at you with a sharp curl of his mouth.

Then he’s in front of you, eyes dark and crinkling in the corners.

“Uh, yeah. It’s not bad, though,” you squeak nervously when you realize you haven’t answered him. “It’s different from what I’m used to.”

He raises an amused brow. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He’s intimidating up close, and you take a small sip of your drink to ease your nerves. “Well, no kegs or trashy music playing, and boys with egos bigger than the room.”

The man lets out a low chuckle as he considers your honest reply, and you swear you see something ripple across his features, but when you blink, it’s gone. “I suppose that differs from top-shelf liquor and live bands, huh? Which is better?”

You shrug. “Well, it depends on who you ask.” 

“I’m asking you.”

“Honest answer?” 

He nods. 

“Neither. I don’t really care for parties.”

“Then it’s quite unfortunate that you found yourself at one tonight.” He seems privately amused, in on a joke you have no part of. Then he says, “You want to get out of here?”

“I probably shouldn’t follow a stranger home,” you tell him bashfully.

“That’s very responsible of you. Then how about I get you a drink? There’s a hotel across the street, and the bar’s not shit.”

You bite your lip, and his big, warm hand is on the small of your back before you say anything. It must’ve been written all over your face like he knew you would say yes.

He’s ever the gentleman, unlike most boys your age. Though, perhaps that’s the difference. He isn’t a boy—nothing about him can hardly be described as such. This fact becomes a bit overwhelming and more evident once he has you on your back, thighs nearly up to your ears, and held in place by a firm, intricately tattooed forearm.

His smile—almost too sharp to be nice—makes your chest do this silly thing when he says, “Let’s play a game.” 

You whisper into the night air. “What kind of game?”

“It’s simple. You tell me yes or no.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of the rules of the game. “But—”

The slap against your cunt isn’t harsh, but it’s the suddenness of it, how no one has ever thought to touch you like that, is what makes you squeak and tremble underneath him—the rings on his fingers sharpening the sting—trying to scurry up the bed, but hindered by his iron grip.

“Yes or no?”

“Y-yes.”

“There’s a girl,” and then his fingertips drop down to where you're slippery-wet and sensitive, moving in hard, tight circles until you're clenching down on a curse between your teeth. "Messy little cunt."

It's too much, you think when he plugs two fingers (feeling like three of your own) into your pussy. The muscles in his shoulders roll as he shoves his fingers in and out, batting your hands away when you try to get him to slow down. Too much, too—

“It’s not. I want you to cum like this,” he says, teasing, nudging your clit with his thumb and swirling it in tight spit-slick circles; you have no choice but to chase that bright light feeling until you cum, sticky and sweaty. 

Just like he promised you would, your orgasm is a shivery thing, molten heat, incandescent, settling in your veins until it pours out of you like liquid wax against the scratchy hotel sheets, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, his fingers curl up and press into where you’re soft and tender.

He smiles. “This is fun, isn’t it, love?”

“I can’t,” you whimper, not exactly answering him. “No more, please.”

His eyes, already pupil-fat, go dark at hearing you beg, nostrils flaring. Please, the key for the small amount of mercy he grants you as he replaces his fingers with his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to your clit and lightly sucking it into his mouth. His lips are just there, and then they’re gone.

“Say it again.”

Your response is a wet little hiccup at the back of your throat. “W-what?”

“Beg me.”

“Please.”

“Again,” he says one more time.

“Please, please, please…”

It’s all you can think to say, strung between that dreamy space and reality, that you don’t even notice him flipping you onto your tummy with ease, not until the light in the room is blotted out as he leans over you. He wraps a hand into the scruff of your neck and presses your face into the bed, the other tucked under your hips to keep them at the right angle—held down with nowhere to go.

He leaves biting open-mouthed kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck—Simon—he manages to tell you his name from one little bruise to the next. Somewhere between the buzz in your ears, you hear him telling you that he wants you to moan it for him, nice and loud.

The haze clears a little, however, at the metal clink of a belt and the sound of a zipper coming undone before you feel his cock prodding you open—raw, without a condom.

“There you go. Lay there, and just—just give me what I fucking want,” Simon rasps as if you could actually move with his hands pinning you in place. 

There are many things you should feel: scared of his words, trapped by the rings digging into tender flesh, by his thighs forcefully pushing yours apart. The red flags look more like flashing lights at this point.

Instead, you feel wanted—your walls tighten around his cock, fluttering, pulling him deeper inside, letting him turn you inside out. A small smile buried into the pillow.

[starstruckspocks]

jon?

Something is different, but he cannot be quite sure what, exactly.

Everything is… more linear than it was Before. He still Knows, quite in a way like he did Before, but it is finite, clear, manmade. It does not come from fear, but curiosity. A wide web of knowledge, rattling around in the dark of him, and what even is dark to a thing that cannot perceive it? A lack, perhaps, an unbeing, a noticable absence where there should be merely an ordinary kind of nothing.

He has a voice. And there is something he desperately, desperately needs to say, but there are no words that are his own, and every sentence he speaks he borrows, and they are each one of them painted with fear and confusion and loneliness and huntedness and a watchful eye.

He is also not alone, never alone. There are voices all around him, nice ones, chatting, making tea, fighting, changing, and only some voices stay the same, have been the same since… well, since when? Since when has he been… like this? It gets hard to think like this, sometimes – to assign a point in time to a moment and to file them away together. A collection of information, disorganised, lost, confused, perhaps deliberately so. It feels achingly familiar.

And sometimes, he hears something like himself speak in a different voice, even when he does not talk. And even though the words are borrowed too, taken from throats and fingers to be forgotten, they feel like coming home, simply because they were said in that soft, cruel tone. A familiar melody, slipping through wires and speakers and programmes like it was made for this, but it wasn’t, was it? It might’ve been.

And this brings him comfort, of course it does, except he must be trapped, right? Because why can he not say his own words, when he has so many of them? He is not lonely, but he is alone with the thoughts he cannot voice, the words that have no mouth, the things that cannot be said. It hasn't always been like that, has it?

Something is different Now from how it was Before, at least. He Knows everything, but he knows nothing of truth, and knows nothing at all, but the difference to What Was seems clear, in a clumsy, calculated way. Something is hiding, quite badly, behind a blurred vision that he does not have, behind lines of numbers and letters, running for its life through old wires. He knows it lingers, he knows it is there. He just cannot make it out quite yet.

[snackugaki]

... just make an iteration* for fun, I said

a universe where they've made it into their late 30s-early 40s and they chill and can be serene in the company of friends and family for once. maybe a flashback or two for the action moments

"fix" your childhood turtles so they can have a reprieve and some shenanigans, i reasoned with myself--

WELP.

my tmnt au iteration (where everyone made it past their 20s, splinter’s alive just old, venus is here, and they deserve some goddamn respite and shenanigans)

tmnt au iteration part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

tmnt au iteration omake 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

lny visit 1 | 2

is this actually new ramblings for the iteration or like one new lore bit and just a rerererererehashing of lore i sprinkled across the other posts.

first though, with my sorta-outsider-not-active-participant-in-fandom history I realized "au" isn't the proper term for what I've been doing, the more suitable term is "iteration".

and we're gonna sit with the fact that even someone at my old-ass age recognized my previous understanding of a term was, for all intents and purposes, not entirely correct and that I acknowledged it, rectified when I could, and that's it, it can be that easy.

...

okay back to the bullshit.

so my Mondo was introduced in the Archie run, a funky guy with a metal band called Merciless Slaughter, dressed like a punk Hulk, all around good peoples, hung out with the Mutanimals.

His design cobbling isn't too deep, I don't think. Just thought it'd be more rad if he looked more like a guy who fronts a band called Merciless Slaughter while remaining the same ol' Mondo inside, post mutation.

Kept some of his original color palette around in his hat, his pants, his NYHC logo (links) knockoff, and his little dyed leather cord bracelets.

the letters for the logo are for, Skate or Die (across), and Merciless Slaughter (down)

hmm still waffling on if I'm more tickled by him being taller than Mikey or the same height (5'4")

_________

and now for the rererererehash rambling because none of this design progression is coming out linear for me. so super quick, am an original 90s turtlemania survivor, Rise brought me back, gorged Rise then Bay then 2007 movie then rererererewatching of Next Mutation and the 90s trilogy for fun then hacking my way back through the Archie and Mirage runs then caught up with IDW and then just... slogging through 2003 and 2012 which honestly I feel like I got the gists of through gif sets alone.

one hand I can see why old fans (90s turtlemania) didn't seem to like the Rise designs, ours really were just the same li'l green dude but in different colors and hit sticks looks-wise. But here comes Rise with all the character design classics: different shapes! different sizes! exaggeration! and that's on top of all the nudges and twists made to the usual lore; Raphael is now the oldest, Leo and Donnie are now twins, they're different species of turtles, they're tools for war, brand new antagonists etc.

idk, to me when I was watching that shit, it was fun and refreshing so... ionno, built different cope maybe to the other oldheads pissing their pantaloons still ig whatevs

what tickles me most, personally, is the utter fuckton of Rise AUs, and a few Rise-driven iterations, and also some of the other non canon media iterations. so tickled that I got hit by the makeaniterationigitis itllbefunoccocal virus too. UnU (i'm kidding, i'm having so much fucking fun) just I'm addressing the flowers I wanna give to the kids who took Rise's take on tmnt and just RAN with the "different turtle species" from full out coloring their turtles the same as the species they picked to mimicking Rise's design language with different markings.

God, the markings thing just really nestled into my heart, it's such a simple thing and yet it took Rise to just try it, not even a lot, just a little for flavorrrrr. It's just enjoyable as fuck to me tbh and I'm sharpening my teeth when I revisit my coloring choices for the 8th time... fuck where was I?

right, mine are mistakes. wrongright place at the wrongright time, mutagen was there and now they can swing swords around and eat pizza.

someone(s) was high tailing it outta a TGRI lab with some mutagen barrels, driving recklessly while a bunch of eco-vigilantes had broken out of a pet shop that was the face of a black market pet trade/medicine/exotic food racket of endangered species. hence where their bit of human pre-mutagenic contact comes from (the strike team of people who freed them from their cages because all of them were endangered species & destined for a tank, a cutting board or a pill box); including a sea turtle Venus, Leatherhead, Tokka, Rahzar, Man-Ray some others etc etc. Jennika keeping her origin because it was dope as fuck. splinter was just there watching this symphony of human fuckery happen and decided to adopt some kids with no one asking (it was tang shen's onryo that is rooted in Splinter's mind that was asking, shh)

and ever since it clicked when I was gathering ref shots, ✨sea turtle Venus just makes sense✨ to me, it's taken my brain stem and rung it like a bell for new year's nonstop and i am not mad

... fuck, I am but also am not looking forward to when I start delving into ninjutsu, ninpo, Venus' whole schtick and how the supernatural fits into this world that I definitely don't need to be fleshing out this much just to draw them chilling on April's couch.

i've got like over 70 refs, holy shit

[sophieinwonderland]

Additional points that we...KIND OF made in two different posts yesterday (not even having to do with the current debacle, just...in general) that we feel is very important, and are just going to re-post in here:

You should believe endogenics exist first and foremost because they tell you they exist.

It's nice that science is starting to support us and the DSM and ICD are doing great at getting better for that, but it's still the weapon of our oppressors.

Just a few decades ago, you'd be anti-science for saying transgender people AREN'T a mental illness.

It is very, very easy to see how that can change back once you realize progress is not linear. "Progress is not linear" is the part individuals seem to forget (and we're not gonna lie, we sometimes do too, because that's terrifying to think about).

We feel like discourse wouldn't be discourse anymore if people acknowledged that because a lot of them would be forced to, we guess, question the acceptability of targeting X over Y and Z, and why they give A and B more authority over how X experiences their lives than even over X — if we can use letters in placement of actual groups of people here for a sec.

<Context note for people who do not know us, Rusanya: we agree with Sophie on a ton of points and enjoy her blog. We have an anti-psychiatry [institution, not the science itself, although we feel only bad-faith readers would see that?] and pro-mad-pride spin on our world view though, compared to Sophie. So sometimes we like throwing random things in her inbox because she's like the One Person who can pick our brain and it feels like she is not being an asshole.>

I do think in an ideal world, people would be respected for their identities regardless of opinions of authority figures.

But at the same time, I think the best path to acceptance is to direct arguments to the world you live in, not the one you want. And that means taking things that have historically been weapons of oppression and turning them against the oppressors.

Because the fact is that psychologists and psychiatrists are seen as a valid authority on matters of psychology.

Is there a possibility that the pendulum could swing the other way, that hard anti-endo sentiment could somehow take root in the psychiatric community? Sure. And if that happens, we'll have to adapt and figure out how to deal with that to the best of our ability.

But... I don't think it will happen. I mean, we already know the Stanford tulpa study is going to show neurological differences in tulpamancers. Whatever those differences may be, I think endogenic plurality being accepted as a real psychological phenomenon is inevitable.

On the other hand, we do have to acknowledge that we've seen backslides before. The False Memory Syndrome Foundation in the 90s successfully managed to turn an entire generation against trauma survivors and their therapists, and made diagnosing DID toxic to the point that therapists completely refused to diagnose it. So we can't say what the future will hold for certain.

To me though, I think this just means it's important to be vigilant, and try to foster positive relationships with the psychiatric community.

Because I also think most people who go into psychiatry do so because they genuinely want to help people. Yes, there are bad psychiatrists and there are abusive ones. And there are well-meaning ones who end up causing more harm than good because they think they know better. There are a lot of problems in psychiatry that need to be addressed. But I don't feel that fostering an adversarial relationship is a productive way to accomplish our community's goals.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #45

So I got my weeks confused! It is not soup at the place this weekend - it is potluck! Next week will be soup week! And I'm glad someone told me, because I would have felt very silly if I had brought soup!

I am always getting my days and weeks mixed up. Being AuDHD leaves me with a very shaky grasp of time and its passing. The fact that I must experience it in a linear fashion is occasionally very confusing to me. It just seems so arbitrarily limiting and just plain silly; you can bet that I'll be talking to tech support about it once I'm out of my meat-mech!! Bahahahaha! 🤣 🤪 😁

I can't help but wonder if you, from your position at the Edge of Creation, experience time differently than we do. I know you can't answer me, but… what's it like, the way things are over there? How does time and space flow? How do you flow within it? Are all your needs being met? Are you warm enough? Are you doing okay over there? I gotta wonder.

In any case! I am not, in fact, making soup this week! Instead, I am going to see about making a moussaka for the potluck! But I didn't have the ingredients on hand, so I went to the grocery, and as promised, I will write about my adventures and share pictures!

Curious: have you ever been to a grocery store? Does your world even have grocery stores, in the way that they exist in mine? In the media that we have of your world, all I ever see are little shops, so I had imagined that in most towns, there might be separate shops for things like dairy, a separate shop for meat, one for fish, and one for fruits and veggies, and so on. But maybe they have a grocery store in Midgar somewhere? Or maybe even in Junon? They seem like big places that likely act as relatively important trade hubs, so it wouldn't be too out-of-the-ordinary to see a grocery store in those places, right? I don't live over there (obviously), so I wouldn't know.

There is a grocery place nearby that I like to go to, and it takes maybe 5 or 10 minutes for me to get there. It's got a little bit of everything, so it's easy to gather whatever you need to make a meal. In this case, I went for moussaka supplies and some other odds and ends that were written on a list on a whiteboard in the hallway near the front door of my house.

(if you're wondering if I adhered strictly to this list... my brain is always generating tasty snack ideas a mile a minute, I'm utterly captivated by anything that looks new or interesting, and my impulse control in general is poor, so... the answer to such questions is almost always a resounding "NO!" 😜🤣)

Oh! It occurs to me! Maybe you don't know what moussaka is, because it is a Greek dish, and your world doesn't have a place called Greece in it. But then again, your world has pasta dishes, and pasta dishes are Italian dishes, and your world doesn't have a place called Italy. Hm. Well, I'll explain it anyways, because even in my world, not a lot of people know what moussaka is!

It's a baked dish that consists of a thick, tomato-based sauce made with spiced ground lamb in between layers of roasted eggplant slices. The top layer is a bechamel sauce - it's basically what happens when you whisk together butter, flour, milk, egg yolks, and cheese. It's absolutely delectable, and the leftovers are even better, because the flavors will have had time to mingle!

But it's a lot of work, especially if you're dyspraxic like me. It's gonna take me a bunch of hours to put it all together (which is why I usually need a compelling excuse to make it - like a potluck!), and with the stupid rib injury, I'm probably gonna have an even harder time trying to put it together than usual. But that's okay!! The results are always amazing, so it'll be worth it!

But first always comes the part where you get the ingredients. You start with some eggplants (you need 3, but I got a fourth because I know I'll wanna eat some slices as I'm roasting them, hahaha!), a couple of red onions, some garlic, and a lemon. I already have garlic, but I got everything else:

It's important to select a very pale lemon; you don't have to worry about ripening with citrus fruits, so the paler the lemon, the fresher it is, and the more juice it will have.

Since I was in the produce section, I also happened to notice that they had starfruit! It's one of my favorites, so I snatched up the best-looking one. For these, it's the opposite - you'll want darker fruits, because, unlike citrus, these ones are shipped not-quite-ripe. Darker means more ripe in this case, and therefore more juicy and sweet.

I ended up needing to take the rest of the pictures after the fact at home, sadly; I would have liked to show you the general pattern and structure of the grocery store that is familiar to me, but for some reason, it got really crowded all of a sudden, and I didn't want to be in anybody's way, trying to snap pictures for reasons that they couldn't possibly understand, which I'm not too terribly keen on trying to explain anyway, especially to someone who is rushing around and likely already cranky and irritable. Yeesh. 😬

In any case! Here are the rest of the ingredients that I got for the moussaka. These are used to make the meat sauce and the bechamel sauce:

We have here some tomato puree in a glass jar and some tomato paste in a tube; this is very convenient, because these normally come in cans, even though we're not going to need all of it. Cans are not resealable, but jars and tubes are! I will use the entirety of the cans of crushed and diced tomatoes, so we don't have to worry about that! We also have some ground lamb, a couple of different kinds of hard Greek cheeses (feta and halloumi) that I will grate for the purpose of incorporating into the bechamel. And we also have a VERY curious kitty named Hunter who wants to investigate my epic grocery store loot!! We'll pretend like his investigations are for quality control purposes, why not? Hahaha! 😄

Speaking of epic grocery store loot, I found a bunch of things that were definitely not on the list, but they seemed really neat, and I wanted to try them! Here's a photo:

Bison is kind of like a cow, but not really. Bison, cows, and buffalo are all in the Bovinae subfamily, in the Bovini tribe, as far as taxonomy on my planet goes; I wondered how it tastes, as compared to regular beef, so I thought to do a small science in order to find out. And venison is what we call deer after it's processed into something edible. I already know what deer tastes like because my father used to hunt, but you don't normally find it in grocery stores. I guess farming deer is becoming more popular. How interesting! It's good stuff, and I've missed the flavor, so I'm excited to use it in something yummy!

I also found a new kind of tea! This one looked potentially like it could taste nice, and it'll give me something warm to sip on at night that doesn't contain caffeine, which is always a plus!

Remember - don't drink caffeine too close to bed! It's bad for your sleep! It impairs the nightly brain-cleaning cycle, and disruptions to that cycle can do very strange things to a person's body and mind! Better to save the caffeine for morning or afternoon use only! Otherwise, things can get really weird!

I also found some of THESE:

So... I know that I said these were really good, but the truth is, I've never actually had them. I've only had the cookie butter that is made from them (yes, that is a thing!), and that cookie butter is REALLY GOOD, oh my stars! Here's a picture:

I assumed that these taste like the cookie butter, and I was a bit disappointed by the biscuit tea, and I also heard of a French tiramisu recipe that uses these instead of ladyfingers, and by all these reasons combined, I wanted to give them a try!

Here is what they look like, and yes, I can confirm that the flavor is practically identical to the cookie butter that I'm familiar with!

...I can already tell that I'm going to have to be really careful with myself around these, holy moly! Ahahahaha~!! I know you can't answer me, but do you have foods like that, I wonder? If there are foods that are irresistible to you, besides the pastas that we know about, what are they? Curious!

I also got some of these:

These are palm-sized balls of mozzarella cheese, filled with thick mixture of cream and very soft shredded mozzarella cheese. These are delightful in ways that I can't even begin to describe to you! If you don't hate soft cheeses (some people do; it's a texture thing and I can respect that), you should definitely give these a try if you ever find them somehow!

Finally, I got some of these to share with everyone in my house and in the various places I go:

I'm already familiar with the dark chocolate ones - they're my favorite kind. But the strawberries and cream ones were new, and they fascinated me as a concept, so I got them! They're a bit too sweet for me, but I know several others who will like them! I wonder if you might like either of these? Hm.

The rest of the things are just ordinary things, but sometimes I get struck by the simple beauty of them. Maybe it's a little weird, haha. But here, I tried to take some good pictures; maybe you'll understand, if only just a little:

I liked to look at the vibrant purple skin of these. Did you know that eggplants in the old days used to be very small and white? That's why they're called eggplants in the first place. I'm not sure why they ended up big and purple as time went on. In any case, I can't wait to slice and roast these; they're going to be delicious!

I know it's just a broccoli. But I thought it was a very good-looking broccoli. The green was a lot more vibrant than what I could capture with the camera, but the shape is good, and its weight is pretty hefty. This is a very good broccoli! I am pleased that I found such a prize; they're not normally this nice!

This is just mixed greens, but I liked the way the colors looked in the sunlight, and I liked the way all the colors blend together. The purple leaves really pop out! This one is especially nice, because usually boxes of mixed greens have a little bit of rot on the bottom, but I got really lucky this time!

These are just tomatoes. But I thought they looked like very good tomatoes. I loved the way the vibrant red of the fruit contrasted with the green of the vine as the sunlight splashed on them! And they smell really good, too!

I like these because I think they taste good (though my husband likes to tease me because he thinks they taste like stomach acid, but then he'll insist on trying whichever one I am sipping from, so I'm not really sure what to make of that, haha)! And they also are just generally pretty liquids that come in very pretty bottles! But you shouldn't drink more than one of these in a day if you don't want a tummyache. Or at least I get a tummyache if I have more than one of these in a span of 24 hours. I wonder if that's normal? Hm.

...Look. I know that maybe all these pictures don't seem to most folks like they're much of anything. Maybe it seems inconsequential in the grand scheme of things; I know that life can be very ugly sometimes. You've seen it. I've seen it.

But you know? Life can also be very beautiful if you know where to look, if you're deliberate about which spaces you choose to be in, and if you can learn to find joy in simple and ordinary things. I'd even argue, given how absolutely fucked-up the world can be, that it's essential to find the magic in everyday things. Maybe some grouchy person might try to tell you that grown-ass adults like us shouldn't still have a sense of wonder about things as though we're still new to this place, but... well... they're allowed to be wrong. People are wrong about things all the damn time:

Yes, the fuck I can!! 🤩 To be both is the birthright of any human being; the capacity to have these things in balance is part of what makes us amazing! So I'll be over here trying to be a kaleidoscopic rainbow of bright and awesome and joyful things while also being in touch with the various horrors of this world, no matter what anyone says. Because even if it was the case that I'm wrong for thinking and being this way (I'm not), I'm still happier and more balanced than any grouch-almighty who somehow doesn't have anything better to do with themselves than to try to make me feel small.

Hey!! If I can be doomy/gloomy and sparkly/rainbowy at the same time, then so can you! Heck, you'd probably do a better job of pulling it off than I do, given that epic, awesome brain of yours!

Take good care of yourself, okay? Remember you are loved! And stay safe! Try to find the delight in ordinary things. Treat yourself nice, and make good, kind, and loving choices.

I'm gonna make moussaka tomorrow! I'll take pictures to share with you along the way!! You will receive a moussaka-flavored letter!!! Look forward to it!!!!

Your friend, Lumine

[miyakuli]

The Stillness of the Wind

Into The Wild

The Stillness of the Wind is a point & click game with a bit of a management aspect, as you play as Talma, a little granny who is trying as hard as she can to run her farm lost in the middle of the desert. The game tries to make us feel the weight of time passing and the tiredness of this old lady through its gameplay… but it's perhaps a little too burdensome for the player.

❤ A minimalist design that perfectly suits the melancholy tone of the story and Talma's isolation. ❤ The poetry of the game is particularly evident in the parallels between the gradual deterioration of Talma's farm and her health, the increasingly dreamlike letters from her family which I thought showed her loss of touch with real life, and the objects (mirages?) found in the desert which symbolise distant and almost forgotten memories. ❤ The relationship between Talma and the postman, her only human contact, is very simple and touching, especially in their final interaction.

+/- The idea of feeling the character's old age through the gameplay is a clever one; the days seem to go by extremely quickly, even though it's the character who takes a long time with each of her tasks. As a result, everything seems laborious and you really get caught up in optimizing your days to help our little grandmother survive as best she can…..however, even if we understand the creators' approach, this slowness still becomes rather annoying for the player. Just venturing out of the farm to look for a tiny mushroom could take all day in the game, but 10 minutes in real time for us (yes, I timed it, that's all I had to do while granny was walking xD). If the game wanted to put us in a kind of torpor, it's a winner, but it would still have to motivate us to stay ;) +/- The soundtrack is subdued and gloomy, in keeping with the general atmosphere. But I still felt a great musical void.

✖ Some elements would have benefited from being explained because even now it's not clear to me; what's the point of eating, does it have an impact on Talma's actions or not? how does the rifle work? Do the plants need to be watered every day or is a little water enough?...I'm well aware that, in the end, everything will gradually die out and there's nothing we can do about it, but I would have liked to have managed things better if I'd at least had these precise details in my head. ✖ The cutscenes didn't have to be as slow as Talma >< ✖ There's no replayability, because the story is very linear, the collectibles don't change much and there are no achievements to unlock either. With that and a maximum of 3 hours to play, you'd be better off buying it on sale.

Don't start The Stillness of the Wind for its gameplay, in which case you'll come away feeling amorphous. But if you like simple, moving stories, where the game's mechanics deepen your sense of the atmosphere and the character's psyche, you'll surely enjoy getting lost in it.

➡ My Steam page

[mochidreambubble]

From Golden Grove, Love Sunset Bird

[ongoing fic] {I started a planned multi-chapped fic as well as others related in the same concept - but not necessarily in the same timeline/continuation. This was what started the chain of OL fics. See all related fics on Ao3 here, and for just this ongoing one right here.

The chapters are not exactly going to be linear - the chapters will all take place at each individual MC’s step, so due to the year and age differences, the chapters will not be happening at the same time depending on which MC’s chapter it is.

Both MCs will be using they/them and left, strictly because everything about the MC is so customisable, from their Name, Looks, and Gender - all of which can be changed at any stage so, really I left most of those details up to however you want to interpret/imagine them as. Frankly, it’s not the main focus of this fic. View the MCs however you wish.}

[Summary:

Letters, Postcards (and potentially Emails) that span across years.

Long distance friends spilling their hearts over paper.

From, Sunset Bird ~ Love, Golden Grove]

(you are here) First - Next One: Beginnings & Always Step 1 ~ Hilltop Beginnings

Lizzie thinks it’s so funny that your pen pal is six. Well, pen pal is a stretch, considering your city friend ( baby , Lizzie insists on calling them, they’re so young they’re basically a baby) mostly sends you postcards plastered with stickers and a few words written by their Mama . It hasn’t changed since you started sending them letters - your doodles and writing in as many different coloured crayons as you could manage - at the start of the year. 

You met them through a creative type of program you saw a colourful poster for Friends As Far as the Eye Can See - Friends even across the Sea and you thought it sounded fun! Kids came and went at Sunset Bird, so you felt, it is pretty neat to have some kind-of friend that would still be your friend no matter what - summer going by wouldn’t be an issue cause so long as you kept sending letters, and they sent postcards, you were basically always connected!

Mom and Ma sat you down before you started sending them letters, a very long and very booooring lecture about stranger danger and what you could and couldn’t say. Both of them really hovered over your shoulder when you wrote your first letter. They seemed to relax when the first postcard from your pen pal arrived, it had a letter from their own Mama as well which was addressed to both of them instead (well, not to Mom and Ma exactly. It was for the ‘Parents’ so basically them).

Your moms said that your pen pal lived in the city.  You’re not sure why a six-year-old was doing this, and you kind of agree with Lizzie that they were pretty smallish in age (not that you’d ever tell her of course). Unlike you, it turns out, this wasn’t their idea.

“Their mother signed them up for this. I guess she was hoping to give them a special friend,” Your Ma says as she brushes your hair and you when you ask if they knew - Mom and Ma always have all the answers after all! You let her fuss over your hair as long as she likes, you love it. 

You wonder if they knew what was going on, Mom says they do as kids are always more mature and smarter than people give them credit for and she winks and both you and Lizzie. Mom and Ma’s friends liked to say Lizzie had a sharp wit (you don’t think Lizzie likes sharp things at all actually) and that you were uh… 

“ A precocious child ,” Your Ma repeats those words when you asked. She makes a face like she doesn’t quite like that people called you that. You ask, because you don’t even know what that word means. 

She smiles, but you can tell she’s smiling because you were slightly frowning. “It means you’re very mature, very grown-up, in a lot of ways. But you’ll always be my little baby.”

You guess you sort of understand what the word means now. Maybe? You don’t feel like an adult though. You still like to collect shells and make silly drawings and play all day, nothing like what your Mom and Ma do. But you do feel sort of kind of responsibility towards your far-away pen pal. Lizzie may be your older sister, but you were the older one between you and your pen pal. You felt like you needed to be cool? Or at least someone they could look up to, hopefully…

It’s summer right now and you finally have more time to play at the beach, so maybe you should tell them ‘bout some of the cool shells you’ve already found washed up recently? Or maybe about some of the tourists from places you’ve certainly never been to before? You just hope these were more interesting letters than the ones you wrote during your school days, where the most exciting stories seem to be about funky school lunches at the occasional field trip. Normally, you’d just write about your family…

“Come onnnn,” Lizzie huffs, dramatically slumping against your bedroom door. You forgot she’d been waiting for you. “We’re supposed to meet Shiloh at the playground since forever ago!”

You don’t want to tell her you don’t really feel like going. Shiloh is her friend; no matter how much you’ve tried to bond with Shiloh all the times you’ve seen him so far. You like to think you’re pretty likable (maybe?). You like talking to people and making new friends. You don’t really know why Shiloh not liking you bugs you so much. 

“You go on ahead, I’m thinking about-”

“About what to write to your baby friend far far away ,” your sister sticks her tongue out, ending with another dramatic impatient huff. “Nevermind, I’m going without you.”

You feel a little guilty, especially since you promised to go with her. But you also want to finish writing your letter…

…

Which unfortunately goes nowhere. Your paper is getting crumpled with all the times you’ve erased your pencil scribbles. Slumping back down your chair with a sigh, you wonder if you should go meet your sister after all. But you’ve been staring at the now very crumpled paper that was supposed to magically be your letter for a long while now. The sun was setting…

But you were getting nowhere, so outside you go! You made sure to call out to you Mom and Ma you were simply going for a short walk. Mom tells you not to wander too far, and even though you know that super well, you made sure to yell back that you wouldn’t.

You take in a deep breath, the air salty. Without the sun high in the sky, it wasn’t super hot at the very least. You were ready to just hang around the curb outside your home and stretch just for a bit. But you spot someone, a stranger. He was sitting on said curb, slumped over with his head in his hand. With the stranger hunched over, you could only see the sandy colour of his ponytailed hair. 

You stare long enough that he notices you.

You thought it was funny, at first. But the more you thought about it later, the sadder you felt. Cause the stranger, a dad it seemed, offered you a twenty-dollar bill to be his son’s friend. You knew very well that wasn’t how kids your age made friends. And even though it would have made you super rich, it didn’t feel right to take it. You didn’t mind meeting ‘Cove’, without that money bribe thank you very much. You think friends should be made without being paid to do so. Meeting new people made you super excited anyway. It would also be super fun to have another kid your age, next door even! Most kids your age lived super far away, and if not for school, you think it would be super hard to meet kids your age at all.

You agree to help the stranger-dad look for Cove. You found him on your hill. 

Made you wish you were magic. You’ve never met anyone so sad.

Of course, you made a promise to make this boy with the prettiest hair and the sad frown smile. You felt like you had to. 

……

Hello Fairy Friend

Is that ok? You gave me so many many mermaid stickers last time and called me your mermaid friend. So I wanted to call you something special too. You like fairies right?

I think I met someone magical today. His name is Cove, and I think he’s super special. His hair is green like the ocean in the morning. He’s my new neighbour, and I get bubbles inside me when I think about that.

<a doodle of Cove>

Cove was really sad though. Nothing I say makes him smile. I wonder if I can get him to smile. 

I feel sad for him. His dad wanted to give me twenty-dollars to be his friend. Moms and dads don’t do that right? Like, you mom didn’t give you money to send postcards to me?

Anyway! That’s it then! It’s my mission this summer to make my new neighbour smile!!!

<doodles of three smiley faces, with arrows naming you, Cove and your Fairy Friend’s name >

Making new friends makes people happy, right? It made me super happy to be friends with you, even though you live so far away.

<doodle of a fairy and a mermaid>

I wanted to do so many things and nothing at the same time this summer. But now!!! I have a plan!!! It is super great!!!

I’ll let you know if Cove and I become friends. Cause you’re my friend too, and I want you to know!

Okay, bye!!! Send me a postcard soon!!!!

From

Your Mermaid Friend!!!! 

[empty-pizza]

thoughts on harrow the ninth chapter four: part two

yep, they kissed. past harrow had to have known exactly what she was asking for.

and then harrow swears the oath. by the way, i'm not actually 100% sure on the chronology here. this is probably after the chapter where god said the name Ortus three times, but i'm not totally sure. we'll have to see. i'll keep an open mind for non-linearity.

ianthe seems to remember ortus as the cavalier. she wouldn't know this if we were in the proper timeline/existence/memory state or whatever.

this whole sewn tongue thing, i really lack the context on.

ianthe gave harrow something. shit, this is interesting. this whole plan has to be way bigger than just bringing gideon back. i mean, it's supposed to resurrect the girl in the hole.

these letters are very interesting. very very interesting. too interesting for me to know what to say. interesting that harrow doesn't remember camilla at all, though. fuckery.

okay, one of the letters ianthe keeps is one that she opens if harrow dies. cool. and ianthe knows for sure that corona is not dead. man, i hope we see camilla and coronabeth this book.

ianthe is a really interesting character and i'm glad we're getting a closer view of her here. it's like she's smart enough to see through conversation, in general. she's already thought through what each person has to communicate to the other and what order it happens in. that doesn't mean she can't be surprised, but when she's not, she plays with her food. instead of being straight to the point (like some kind of second house nerd) she shows exactly what level of disdain she has for the conversation itself by sarcastically half-hearting it.

she was absolutely pissed when harrow implied corona had died, but laughed it off intentionally, knowing she'd move later to make the point that you don't say that shit to her.

ianthe is brilliant. absolutely brilliant. but she's reminding me of palamedes right now. palamedes was brilliant, but cared too much about explaining why he was right to people. ianthe doesn't want to explain herself to people, but she does want to enjoy the effect, to play with what they perceive.

she might even be smarter than harrow. but harrow will win. because harrow is the one who is completely goal-driven and does not care about the effect she gives off to others. there was only one person she cared about the thoughts of, and that person is gone now.

if every chapter is this dense and requires me to analyze this much to try and follow the mysteries, then the library is gonna be really annoyed with how long it takes me to return these.

[bunshoe]

Massacre on the Amaterasu Express

Thoughts on the Mystery Labyrinth after having played the prologue (aka looking at an anime girl's swimsuit to solve a murder)

So far, the idea of the mystery labyrinth is very compelling. I love how the place is almost personified, with it both obscuring the truth to reflect the efforts of the culprit whilst also having to play fair . Whilst I did see the twist of having to return to a branch of the mystery labyrinth coming, it's still a compelling concept, allowing the mystery to unravel and come back onto itself in a way that is interesting to see in a linear story. In this way, the mystery labyrinth is an excellent expression of how it feels to try and solve a puzzle, and the ways you get stuck and have to backtrack your thoughts, similarly to how Danganronpa's trials capture the feeling of being in a chaotic discussion, and picking out possible weak points to break apart an opponent's reasoning.

It's even more interesting from a meta level; usually, when you solve a puzzle in a game, you expect the story to progress linearly, but once the mystery labyrinth implants the idea that you might return to branching paths later, the player has the understanding that progression does not always guarantee your thinking is on the right track, and therefore is encouraged to think more critically about the information the game presents to them.

However, this interesting game structure is sadly juxtaposed by the baffling return of Hangman's Gambit: No-one's Favourite Danganronpa Minigame, This Time With Boobs!, featuring the digital equivalent of one of those posters where you scratch off a woman's clothing to reveal her unmentionables underneath, except this time you're doing basic primary school level spelling by shooting letters off a rotating barrel to reveal the swimsuit-clad anime girl inside. Whilst these two share a common voyeuristic concept, the key difference is one is a hundred times more mortifying to have to explain to your parents than the other.

"Indeed!" the game cries, "the fifth body was a red herring. BUT CAN YOU SPELL THE WORD RED??!?!??" I understand that this is a fanservice segment, but I would hope that the pseudo-sentient death maze's attempt to obscure twisted truths would take a more compelling form than the world's most bizarre spelling bee

Another gripe I'd like to express is that the twist that the labyrinth kills the culprit behind the mystery has not been explored anywhere near as much as I would have liked, and I can only hope we see the resurfacing of this idea in later chapters.

At the moment, the mystery labyrinth is plenty interesting, but seems to serve no real practical function aside from allowing Yuma essentially infinite time to solve a mystery, as well as unearth certain clues that he missed the first time around. However, I do have faith that this is something that the game will explore later, if only to ask why pre-amnesia Yuma was eager to sacrifice so much to gain access to the mystery labyrinth, and what kind of person he was to want such a thing in lieu (or perhaps because?) of the deaths it would lead to. 'What is worth sacrificing in pursuit of the truth?' is a concept quite commonly explored in detective video games, and time will tell whether Raincode will have something valuable to contribute to the discussion.

[harpywritesfic]

Look at me, a wants-to-write-but-blocks-themselves-because-the-first-letter-I-type-down-has-to-be-perfect-fanfic writer.

I've been hoarding various prompt lists like whumptober and fluffbruary. I even snatched myself one of those ironstrange bingo cards in hopes I could fill one of prompts in a year. But now half of the year is over and my card still empty.

I feel like a failure 😞

ah, you've come to the right place. abandon your perfectionism, all ye who enter here. this is a land of unedited drafts, fics written in a haze of hyperfixation, caffeine highs and/or mental breakdowns. i've mastered the art of "good enough".

remember- writing is messy! the process is messy, and the product can be messy too. in a sense nothing people write is ever truly 'finished'- there's always room for improvement. that's how art works, in my humble opinion. try to find enjoyment in the process, not the product. as the artist, your own work will always seem imperfect. but that doesn't make it any less valuable.

it might help to know how i write most of my fics. maybe my method isn't your style, but i'll walk you through it anyway since it might help.

sit down to write. or write standing up. where isn't important. what matters most is you've got an idea or a prompt or an anything that makes you want to write.

word barf. this is the very rough draft phase. throw out everything you know you want to have happen into the doc. try not to read over what you're putting down (the messiness of it all can be daunting). mine often are made up of unfinished sentences, half-baked scene ideas, 'they do x and then y", mixed with some finished portions. if you get stuck, you can always come back, and you'll already have a little something on the page :)

splice and dice. this is where i put my scenes in their order (if they weren't already, it rly depends on what you're writing. sometimes it's linear, sometimes it's not). biggest thing i use this phase for is working out where i need transitions between scenes, where i need to expand my "x then y" bits into writing, and and where i can just put a empty line with a "-" in the center to indicate a new scene.

flesh it out. i get stuck here a lot. this is the step where you weave your scenes together, write your dialogue, fill in your placeholders. it's okay to just skip parts and come back to them. some parts, if they're really giving you trouble, can just be removed entirely. you're the writer- it's up to you. choose your battles.

(optional) editing. sometimes i just don't even bother, especially if i know i'll hate reading what i've written (if this happens to you, it's best to skip the editing! a few mistakes are no big deal. i find it easier to just throw it to the wolves (readers), who are usually very nice and rarely point out mistakes. they're not picky). sometimes editing is just a quick pass for typos. but you can also get into it a little more, really go elbow-deep, and edit to improve things like flow, pacing, tone, and other boring stuff. totally unnecessary, though. if you hate this step? skip it.

it took me maybe a year to feel comfortable enough to post something i'd written. and it's okay, too, if you don't feel comfortable posting anything. you can never post it. or you can do it anyway. sometimes i say to myself, "i want to read more of this specific ship/trope/situation/dynamic/whatever" and i make it myself. they say to write what you want to read, and that's even more true for fanfic. there are people out there who want to read the same things as you. sometimes you gotta look your fear in the eyes, quote Freddie Mercury and say, "I'll fucking do it, darling."

having said that, this might be most important- it's okay if you never post anything you write. fanfic is something we do for fun- there is no failure. the most important thing is to enjoy yourself. there doesn't have to be any finished product- just enjoy the process.

i hope this wasn't too ramble-y or anything. my brain works in strange ways, so this might be totally unhelpful. who knows! but i'll post it anyway, in case it is.

[epicspheal]

I posted 403 times in 2022

215 posts created (53%)

188 posts reblogged (47%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@a-tale-of-legends

@weliveinapokemonworld

@epicspheal

@incorrectpokechampionquotes

@ballonleaparadise

I tagged 402 of my posts in 2022

#ask epic spheal - 101 posts

#champion leon - 74 posts

#cactusverse - 67 posts

#pokemon worldbuilding - 55 posts

#pokemon oc - 44 posts

#anipoke - 32 posts

#pokemon meta - 28 posts

#pokemon headcanons - 28 posts

#rival hop - 27 posts

#pokemas - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 121 characters

#i love headcanons like these that show how people who can't get the traditional starters might choose their first partner

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Okay, a few weeks back, I posted how the success of someone trying to make a career out of Pokemon training largely depended on starting location and what their financial background looked like. So after thinking about it, you realize that of all of the regions with leagues so far, Galar is actually the fairest league as far as eliminating barriers for trainers to compete. Let's start with the money. We know at least in Pokespe that Rose has made programs in Galar to help poorer trainers get into the gym challenge (which confirms my sad headcanon that many trainers are screwed out of a traditional journey out of socioeconomic states *stares at my Trainersona and her story*). So we know Galar does make an effort to help struggling trainers. Then let's think about the sponsor system (not so much the endorsements as that just seems to be a letter of recognition and that the endorsers seem to not be obligated to give other support). We know you can gain sponsors as you become more well-known on the Galar circuit, which would mean extra monetary support. Then there's the whole starting location thing. I know many people IRL complained about the strict linearity of the gym challenge, but in universe, it makes a lot of sense. By having everyone start off with the same first gym, it's easier to accurately measure skill level. By having the opening ceremony be the send-off place, everyone is literally starting off in the same location Motostoke. That means a trainer from Wyndon isn't burnt out just trying to get to Milo's gym, and it doesn't give the trainer who already lived in Turrfield an unnecessary advantage by just hopping out of bed and mosying down to the gym. Even the fact that the gym is on a schedule helps create equality. The gym challenge is likely chosen at a time when there are no big harvests (therefore not screwing over trainers from Turrfield/Postwick/Wedgehurst who might need to help on the family farm) and when the weather is relatively mild so that trainers from say, Circhester or Wyndon aren't being snowed in and thus maybe having to halt their journeys due to a blizzard. Having a set date for the start (and thus dates for registration and endorsement) gives people the same amount of time to prepare. The watts trading system in the wild area also helps by allowing trainers to passively collect watts and can be used to buy needed Pokeballs and TRs at prices they may not be able to afford with regular money. This helps improve movesets among poorer trainers compared to rich trainers who can buy the expensive TMs from the Pokemon Center Stores early on. Now it doesn't mean Galar's system is perfect. One could argue that the endorsements (not the sponsorships) could still perpetuate class inequality because there's theoretically only a limited number of endorsements per year (as it's not realistic to expect Milo and Nessa to challenge hundreds of trainers per year in a small timeframe) and that people with more connections are more likely to rub elbows with people who could give them an endorsement. And again still coming from a rich family may give you a leg up by having Pokemon bred for you or just having extra money to spend on yourself and your Pokemon. But still, I believe the Galarian gym system sets up the fairest gym challenge for its trainer by actively attempting to reduce barriers that prevent sizable chunks of the trainer population from reaching their full potential.

106 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

#4

Alright I’m going to just say this now. I’m predicting that the antagonists of Pokemon Scarlet and Violet are going to be the professors of the game. There’s two ways I can see this going. The first is to have the opposite version professor be the main antagonist. So in Scarlet, it would be Professor Turo, and in Violet it was Professor Sada. I’ve seen quite a few people talk about this option and it’s definitely a viable option especially to make sure both characters exist in both versions. Personally I’m thinking about the idea that it would be the reverse. So in Scarlet, since Professor Sada is the main professor, she would also serve as the main antagonist in Scarlet (with Turo doing the same in Violet).  I call them antagonists because I don’t necessarily think they will be flat out evil (I mean they could absolutely end up being monsters but I don’t feel like jumping to that conclusion just yet). I could see their deal being potentially just obsessive over a certain ideal, romanticizing it even and not really looking at the pros and cons. Perhaps they had an event in their life that makes them yearn for the past (Sada) or the Future (Turo) without considering the that the past, present and future all have value. 

111 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

#3

Okay, so I realized I haven't done a review of the Hisuian Snow episodes yet (which, spoiler alert, I think are really adorable) and I will do them soon. But for now, I wanted to focus on one part of the episode: the medicinal leek. I've always been curious about how the healing items in the Pokemon world and how they're able to heal. For the longest time, I thought that the modern potions we get in non-legends mainline games were just marvels of modern pharmacology. But then comes Legends, with probably my favorite mechanic in the game, crafting and foraging. And then, with this second Hisuian Snow Episode, we get to see exactly how the leek works. By squeezing some of the liquid from the inner portion, the shiny Hisuian Zorua was able to help Alec's sprain heal instantly. That's amazing, and honestly, I wish we had something like that in real life. Also, that debunked my original theory of the potions being a modern marvel of pharmaceuticals but just the fact that even the non-Pokemon plant life has special properties. This checks out when you consider the copious amount of berries and their effects in the games. Yet Legends Arceus does pose some limitations. As we see in-game, there's a whole medical corp that often contains people who were seriously maimed by the wild Pokemon. So there's obviously a limit to what things like the berries and leeks could heal both in humans and Pokemon. We've even seen massive injuries in Pokemon, like Ash's Pikachu having to be defibrillated or his entire DP team being bandaged up long after the Paul battle at Lake Acuity. Even in the Yellow chapter of Pokespe, Pika is badly injured getting back to Oak's lab, where it surely passed by berry trees. Even if we can assume Pika did consume an oran berry here and there, it still wasn't enough to heal everything. So it definitely begs the question of where the line is drawn between what can be healed by leeks, herbs and berries and where more modern medical advances need to be brought in to save the lives of both people and Pokemon

115 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

#2

It's been 25 years in the making but our boy finally did it... Ash Ketchum is now the strongest trainer in the Pokemon anime! Yes, I may be a diehard Leon fan, but before Leon was created I was an Ash Ketchum fan. Ash and Pikachu were what got me into Pokemon all the way back in 1999 and now to see this. After so many failures and setbacks, this was the thing my kindergartener self always wanted to see for Ash

This shot from the episode in particular put me into absolute tears. These are the Pokemon I grew up with (yes I'm a gen 1 person) and I knew at this point Ash was going to win. There was no way Ash could lose after a scene like that and with them playing Mesaze Pokemon Master. And also it makes sense storywise...Leon is always meant to lose his crown as the unbeatable champion...so Leon winning would just defeat the whole purpose of his own story arc

See the full post

312 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

My thoughts are with the people of Ukraine today as they deal with the invasion as well as the people of Texas as they deal with the horrific anti-trans legislation that is being put into law.  It’s been a horrifying past 48 hours to see so much of the world fall into even more violence against innocent people.

360 notes - Posted February 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[unoisveimved-un-proffesional]

I think the most fun thing about dimensional beings is that, you’ll always perceive things 1 level lower than your dimension. Our perception is blocked if all 3 dimensions are filled, but if only 2 dimensions are filled, from a certain angle we’ll be able to see anything there is.

A 4th dimensional lifeform of course, could see through you, see every atom of you, actually see your depth, and through your skin, and through your walls. There’s nowhere to hide from a 4th dimensional being, except, along the 4th dimension, because while it exists 4th dimensionally, it can’t perceive its whole physical reality, like how most of us can’t see through walls. Of course, if it wanted to touch you, it would have to come out of the 4th dimension, seemingly appear out of nowhere, and into one of our own dimensions, only then could it actually touch you, but it could theoretically seem to appear anywhere, just a thing that starts out very small measured on the X Y and Z axis, but grows and grows and gains shape and form, disjointed because it’s true form is still partly in the fourth dimension. It’s is as easy for it as it is for us to just run in any direction or jump and climb, and some creatures to fly. Kinda spooky.

Now imagine a time dimension, that exists along physical dimensions. 3 spacial ones, 1 temporal one, that may be how we live. Our time is 1 dimensional, and we can hardly comprehend it, because we’re only 1 dimensional time beings. We can only percieve where we are, effectively making our perception of time 0 dimensional, and we can only remember where we’ve been, through a very complex and easily disruptable system.

So then, if you were a 5th dimensional being, 3 spacial dimensions, and two temporal ones, you could theoretically perceive all of time we live in. But you don’t only exist on the Y axis of time, because now, you exist in non-linear time, infinite timelines stacked upon each other, and while you can shift your perspective, you can only see 1 dimension at a time. If you got lost in the infinite stack of guitar strings, your still 3D, basic body, might be left in some kind of awful existential coma. Freaky, right? That’s not really quite a 5th dimensional being though, that’s a 3x2 dimensional being. And even then, it’s not like they can actually travel through time. Could they?

We’re just 3D beings who perceive our world in 2D and exist in a 1D timeline but perceive it in 0D, because the 3D world is the second dimension times infinity stacked onto each other, and the 1 dimension is 0 times infinity stacked onto each other. Real glad I have a 3D brain so I don’t have to count to infinity to get to 1 first, and infinity times 10 to get to 10.

And it makes me wonder, what if there are other 3 dimensional beings out there, like us, who exist on the ABC axis, instead of the XYZ one? Maybe exist in timeline Z, but we exist in timeline A. These letters mean nothing really, when there’s theoretical infinites out there, but it’s a good way to conceptualize theze ideas.

[mass-piplup-outbreak]

End of the Line - Chapter 7

[first] - [previous] - [next] read it on ao3! if you like this fic, please consider reblogging!

Chapter 7: Trainwreck This is not a linear track.

Ingo has never seen Emmet like this before. This much he can say with certainty.

His brother holds the journal that Shauntal bought for him mere inches from his face. He’s torn off the glove on his right hand to trace the letters with his pointer finger, as though they’re some illusion that can be dispelled by touch alone. In particular, he focuses on that final letter “I”, as smudged and smeared as it is. Emmet is neither smiling nor frowning. His face is simply locked in an expression Ingo can only describe as neutral.

For the millionth time, Ingo wishes he could reach out and tell his brother that everything is going to be okay. Any memories behind such a response are lost to him, but his first instinct is still to take care of Emmet. Even as he clings to Chandelure, shaking like he was the day the Pearl Clan found him in the Alabaster Icelands.

“He seems tired right now,” Shauntal states, her eyes locked on Ingo as he leans against Chandelure for support. Emmet instinctively follows her gaze, but Ingo can tell he’s still just an empty spot to his brother. “Give him some time to recover, and he’ll be able to return to answering your questions.”

Subconsciously, Ingo shifts himself behind Chandelure, his Pokémon gently whispering as he clings onto the frayed threads of his existence. He isn’t used to being scrutinized like this, not after so much time spent as nothing more than an empty space to his dearest friends. The fact that his nerves are currently whirring around like a runaway train doesn’t help, either.

“Sorry,” Shauntal averts her eyes, perhaps sensing his discomfort. She turns to Emmet, pressing the pen into the palm of his hand. “You should keep this. I get the impression that you’ll need it much more than I do.”

Emmet looks between her and the pen, the slightest bit uncertain, before finally nodding and sticking it into his jacket pocket.

Shauntal glances between the two of them, uncertainty clear in her awkward grimace. She lifts herself from the ground and smooths out the wrinkles in her shirt and pants. “I should get going,” she explains. “You both probably need some time to yourselves.”

Both. The togetherness there is an interesting concept. Ingo and Emmet are linked, at least in Shauntal’s eyes. That seems… right. Like some piece of what once was has finally returned.

Emmet doesn’t react to her, so with a frown on her face, Shauntal places a hand on his shoulder. “Make sure he takes breaks,” she suggests. “Using up too much energy at once certainly doesn’t seem to be good for him.”

What would happen to him if he did use up all of his energy like this? For centuries, Ingo has been stuck between the world of the living and the concrete end of an actual death. He’s spent ages wishing to find himself on one side or the other, whether it be a life with breathing lungs and a beating heart or pure nothingness for eternity. The latter was especially appealing at times.

But Emmet finding him again has changed something. Ingo doesn’t care anymore where he ends up, because he knows he’s already where he’s supposed to be. The only thing that matters anymore is being by his brother’s side, no matter what.

Shauntal pauses at the doorway, resting a hand on the frame as she peeks back into the office. Emmet hasn’t moved an inch, staring at the far wall and clutching the journal like it’s the most important thing in the world. It may as well be.

“Don’t push yourself too hard, alright?” Shauntal asks.

Ingo wonders which one of them she’s talking to.

The door clicks closed behind her, and finally, Emmet drops the facade. His shoulders drop, and he hisses out a bitter sob from between his gritted teeth. Eelektross immediately jumps out of its Poké Ball, wrapping its long body around its trainer.

“Fuck,” Emmet mutters quietly. He wipes his tears away with his jacket sleeve, which is not the most absorbent material, if Ingo recalls correctly. He would let Emmet cry into his shoulder, if he could.

Chandelure silently extends one of its spindly arms, and Ingo allows it to support him as he stands. It’s not the weight on his legs that causes him to stumble. Truthfully, he hasn’t felt any strain on his legs for a very long time. But suddenly being lifted to his feet causes all that energy to swirl inside him once again, sloshing from his head to his toes like a water bottle.

Chandelure, his dear, sweet, loyal Chandelure, is quick to respond, looping its arms under Ingo’s own and hoisting him up. He would carry Lady Sneasler’s kits like this when they were just beginning to learn how to play, wryly and fiendish little things that they were. Maybe he used to hold Chandelure in a similar way.

“Thank you.” He looks up at Chandelure, the top of his hat thumping against its glass carapace. Its only response is to squeeze him closer to itself.

Chandelure drifts over to Emmet and Eelektross. Ingo doesn’t miss the spiteful glare that his brother’s ace shoots their way, its malice mostly directed at the clearly visible Chandelure. He supposes he can’t blame such a loyal Pokémon for feeling a bit of resentment towards this situation.

Quietly, Chandelure whispers to its companion. The two of them have known each other for a long time, haven’t they? Eelektross grumbles and growls in response, tightening itself around Emmet’s shoulders.

Ingo can only guess what the Electric Type said, because Chandelure’s flames suddenly flare up as it harshly spits back what must be an insult. Eelektross rears back, hissing and bearing its teeth, but before it can lunge, Emmet grabs it by the headfin and gently guides it down into his lap.

“Stop it,” he commands, holding Eelektross in place. “We don’t- You shouldn’t-” With his words failing him, Emmet starts crying again.

No, no, no, no! The pit in Ingo’s stomach grows even larger, pure dread coursing through him. He made Emmet cry! He’s not supposed to do that!

“I didn’t mean it!” Ingo shouts, kneeling next to his brother in the damp grass. Their rubber ball lies abandoned just a few feet away. “I thought you were looking!”

“Ow!” Emmet flinches when Ingo touches his reddened cheek. “Stop! That hurt!”

“I’m sorry!”

Ingo reaches for his brother’s arm, all thoughts of his intangibility completely gone. “Emmet, I’m-”

Emmet abruptly stands, still holding Eelektross close to his chest. Ingo recoils, and Chandelure instinctively pulls him up just a bit higher. Right. Right, of course.

“We should go home,” Emmet states. He releases his grip on Eelektross, and the two of them walk out of the office together. Unsurprisingly, Chandelure hesitates.

“I think we’re in trouble, Chandelure,” Ingo says. Its flames droop in response, and it fearfully whimpers something that he can’t understand.

“Excuse me.” Emmet stops at the door, peering back at the pair out of the corner of his eye. “We should all go home.”

Perhaps unwilling to incur more of Emmet’s wrath today, Chandelure wastes no time in tailing him, dragging Ingo along like a child carrying their favorite Pokémon plush.

As they leave Gear Station, the starry sky obscured by the bright lights of Nimbasa, Ingo can only hope that he hasn’t royally fucked up.

‥

When he gets back to their apartment, Emmet unceremoniously drops his jacket along with all of his Poké Balls on the floor. He takes a deep breath and loudly proclaims, “What the fuck!”

Chandelure whispers something just quiet enough that he can barely hear it, but that’s exactly the problem. A sudden burst of rage erupts in Emmet’s chest, a burning and scorching flame. Did they think this was funny? Just a cruel prank to play on poor little Emmet? How dare they? How dare they both do this to him?!

“You two.” Emmet whips around, pointing his left hand straight at Chandelure. Eelektross follows his example, glaring. “I am disappointed in you both.”

If Chandelure looks absolutely terrified, freezing in place under his glare and reducing its flames to mere smoke, then Emmet can only imagine how Ingo looks right now.

“Chandelure, you have been keeping a secret,” Emmet accuses the Pokémon, gritting his teeth together into the closest approximation of a smile he can muster as of right now. “I do not like it! Not at all!”

Emmet doesn’t give Ingo even a second to hope that he’s in the clear. “And Ingo. I can’t even tell where you’re standing!” Chandelure helpfully gestures to the empty space to their side, and so he adjusts where he’s looking. “You come back, once everything is starting to be fine again. What is wrong with you?!”

Emmet regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. What’s wrong with Ingo? No, the better question is clearly what’s wrong with him. Didn’t he want this? Isn’t this what he’s been wishing for every night for six years? Against all odds, despite everything saying this would never happen, Ingo is here. Why isn’t he happy?

With tears welling up in his eyes again, Emmet sighs. This train ride was supposed to be over and done with! He got what answers he could, and he put the ones he couldn’t to rest. Or at least, he thought he did.

“I feel like…” Emmet bites his tongue. How exactly does he feel? Everything inside him is crashing together right now, all smoky and hazy and scorched. Ingo was always the one with the words, that’s how Emmet remembers him being. He was never as good as his brother was.

Right now, though, the tracks between Ingo and good that exist in his mind seem to be more worn than they used to be.

“I feel like I don’t know who you are.”

Chandelure tilts its head to the side, listening to words Emmet isn’t privy to. After a moment, it drifts over and begins shuffling through Emmet’s discarded jacket, minding its flames. Eventually, it uses Psychic to pull out the pen and the journal.

“Are you sure?” Emmet asks as Chandelure passes the items to him. “You won’t… get hurt?”

Chandelure nods, and Emmet assumes that it’s speaking for his brother. “Fine then,” he says. He sits on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, like he and Ingo used to when they were going over the station’s budget at home. Eelektross once again wraps itself around his torso, the majority of its body settled in his lap. He opens the journal and rests it on the surface in front of him, leaving the pen at its side.

For a second, nothing happens. Emmet wonders if today has been a strange dream, brought on by stress and coffee. Maybe everything that happened was just in his imagination, or maybe he’s going to wake up in his bed any second now. Swords, he can’t wait to forget about this one.

Emmet suddenly feels a chill on his left side. Just as it did an hour ago, the pen lifts into the air seemingly on its own. That’s going to take some getting used to.

Ask.

Funnily enough, Emmet doesn’t even know where to begin.

“You…” Emmet starts, trying to find his words. “You said you have been a passenger for a month. Where did we pick you up?”

Graveyard, Ingo replies, but Emmet could have guessed as much.

“Alright,” Emmet says, even though nothing about this situation is alright in the slightest. “How are you… feeling?”

Emmet can practically see Ingo’s hesitation, the way the pen pauses in midair.

Fine.

Even though he physically can’t see Ingo, Emmet knows a bluff when he sees one. ‘Fine’ is a very neutral descriptor, especially when someone comes back from the dead just to follow you around for weeks.

“What is the point of this?” Emmet asks. “Why are you here, Ingo?”

It’s as if Ingo chooses the worst possible response, the one answer that could completely shatter whatever’s left of Emmet’s defenses.

I missed you.

Once again, Emmet’s eyes grow misty. “Don’t- don’t say that.” He sniffs, wiping away his tears before they have a chance to fall.

Chandelure nuzzles into Emmet’s side, at the same time as Eelektross purrs into his chest. He’s struck by the thought that it’s never been the most affectionate Pokémon to him. In fact, it’s always kept its distance from him, especially after Ingo disappeared. His brother was always another story; Chandelure would do anything for him.

Did Ingo… ask his ace to do this?

“I don’t understand,” Emmet states, staring at the words on the page. “Shouldn’t you be in the afterlife? Are you stuck here? Should I call an exorcist?”

The pen moves faster than Emmet’s seen it move so far, like someone lit a fire in Ingo’s engine. No no no no no no no

“Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself again!” Emmet grabs the end of the pen, and for a second, he’s thrown off by the fact that he can feel Ingo pulling at the other end.

The tugging suddenly stops. Emmet can’t tell if Ingo has actually let go or if he’s just sitting very still. Either way, it gently floats from his admittedly weak grasp. Chandelure skirts around Emmet, huddling closer to that empty space where he assumes his brother is sitting.

Don’t want to leave again.

“I won’t make you,” Emmet assures him, looking away in shame. “Sorry.”

He’s fucking this up, there’s no denying that. Ingo must think that Emmet hates him, and he wouldn’t be wrong for assuming so. This isn’t how you’re supposed to act when a loved one returns home after being gone for so long. He should be cheering, screaming, crying tears of joy!

Instead, he’s just… frustrated.

“I know I don’t seem happy,” Emmet states, hands gripping the fabric of his pants. “I am. But I’m also confused. You disappeared, lived the rest of your life somewhere else without trying to come back, and then you died.” He huffs out a breath of air. “It’s like you forgot about me.”

He watches the pen yet again, careful yet shaky movements. Ingo must be getting tired again, just like he did back at Gear Station. It might be for the best to wrap up their little session soon.

I didn’t mean to.

Emmet’s heart drops, and all of his blood turns to ice. He keeps staring at the message, as if the writing could change at any second. It can’t be, can it? There’s no way that Ingo means what he thinks he does.

“You didn’t mean to,” he repeats. “You didn’t mean to… forget? You actually forgot?”

The pen suddenly falls, clattering against the top of the coffee table. Chandelure whispers something, a tone similar to how Ingo used to coo over his Axew. Though the only response Emmet receives is silence, he can’t think of any other meaning behind Ingo’s words.

Of course Ingo never tried to go back home. He didn’t even know where to start. How can you return to a place that you don’t remember?

How much of their life did Ingo forget? How much does he remember now? If he forgot his twin brother, the one person who’s been with him for everything, then what else could have survived? Does he even know why he followed Emmet back from Sinnoh, or was it just some half-buried habit?

“I’m sorry,” Emmet squeezes his eyes shut, as if everything will go away if he can’t see it. “I didn’t know! I’m sorry, Ingo!”

‥

With Ingo unable to continue answering questions, Emmet reluctantly decided it was for the best to call it a night. He doesn’t get much sleep, tossing and turning as if he could shake the thoughts from his racing mind.

Ingo forgot him. Emmet made everything worse.

After a long night of staring at the ceiling, the first rays of sunlight finally begin to filter in through his window. Emmet wants to shut the blinds, maybe call in sick for work today. It’s only his second day back, right? Who cares about being consistent?

When his alarm goes off, 6 AM sharp, Emmet immediately slams his hand on the button. With a groan, he pushes a few stray hairs out of his face. He might as well get up now, if only for the fact that he doesn’t think he can handle another minute of trying to fall asleep.

As soon as he opens the door, Emmet is greeted by Chandelure floating right in front of his face. He yelps and leaps back in surprise, but quickly recomposes himself once he realizes this is a friendly ghost.

“Oh, Chandelure,” Emmet clears his throat, pretending to straighten out his shirt. He glances to either side of it, hoping for some kind of sign as to where Ingo is. “What are you doing there?”

In response, Chandelure pushes the journal into Emmet’s hands. He grits his teeth, nervously drumming his hands on the cover.

“Is Ingo here right now?” he asks. When he receives a nod in response, he continues. “Are you sure you want to do this again? It was a lot, but…”

Emmet trails off, suddenly noticing that the pen that Shauntal gave them is nowhere in sight. Out of curiosity, Emmet cracks open the first few pages of the journal, only to find a note that he doesn’t remember being there last night.

Emmet,

I may have lost my memories, but that does not mean I truly forgot them. I knew that there was someone important that I had lost, and I wanted more than anything to find them again. I never thought it would happen like this.

Since I’ve returned home, my memory has improved. It’s not perfect, but I know this: You are my brother, and I care about you. I want to keep talking to you like this.

I won’t leave you again.

-Ingo

Emmet blinks away the tears in his eyes. This is so Ingo. Not just the perfectly eloquent sentences, but the fact that he went out of his way to comfort his little brother when he was clearly distressed. This must have taken him forever to write! And he did it for Emmet?

“Ingo.” Emmet smiles through his tears, just as brightly as he did before his brother disappeared. “I missed you too.”

A cold feeling wraps itself around Emmet, almost like Eelektross when it comes back from a swim. Only, it isn’t Eelektross, it’s something much different. It’s almost like… a hug?

Oh, that must be it! Ingo must be trying to hug him!

The thought brings another wave of sobs from Emmet. He never thought he was going to receive another hug from his brother, but here he is now! Everything is going to be okay, because Ingo is right here! And he isn’t going anywhere!

Emmet sniffles. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

[kimistorm]

Did you just ask me out on live stream? [Yang Jeongin]

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: [Jeongin x GN! Reader]

Warnings: none!

Requested by: @stupendousfriendcalzonehands Thanks for the request! Let me know what you think~

Prompts: "After how many ½ inches does it become a date?” “Did you say you knew how to do this?”

It started as a bet. You and Jeongin couldn’t keep up a weekly podcast for more than 2 months. The way Han phrased it, you could just do it on YouTube and in your dorms, but no, you were fueled by spite and somehow convinced your professor to allow you, Jeongin, and Hyunjin to live stream from the university’s audio studio.

Two months later and you had a small following, so you just continued. Much to Han’s shock.

“On to the final part of the show,” you spoke into your microphone as you scrolled through the outline, “answering your questions!” you let out a snort, “I don’t know why you guys keep asking us for advice. The other day Jeongin tried to joust Seungmin with an icicle.”

“And I won!” your partner declared gleefully with a wide grin.

“Mmm, debatable,” you teased, much to Jeongin’s chagrin, effectively wiping his face of the smile. “He only claims he won because Seungmin’s icicle broke first.”

“Yeah! That’s how it works!”

“But he hit you with it before you broke it!”

Jeongin threw his arms up in frustration, “this isn’t fencing!” From beyond the glass, you saw Hyunjin shaking his head in tired resignation as the two of you deviated from the script yet again and couldn’t help but giggle. “Deal with it Hyunjin,” Jeongin whispered into the mic when he saw what you were giggling at, causing your laughs to escalate. Hyunjin glared at the two of you and Jeongin put his hands up in surrender, “okay okay, actually onto the questions now. Which were chosen by our dear Hyunjin," he mocked with faux sincerity before an evil grin grew on his face, "so if this becomes boring blame him.”

Hyunjin looked like he was going to enter the recording booth and whack the two of you over the head with the rolled-up outline in his hand as his mouth was open in a muffled yell.

“Before Hyunjin takes us off the air, let’s answer some of your questions!” for the third time you tried to continue with what you were supposed to be doing. “This one’s from John. Hey (y/n) and Jeongin! There’s someone who I really like and I want to ask them out on a date. We’ve been getting dinner together, but I don’t think either of us really classify it as a date. It’s mostly been under the pretense of ‘I’m starving, you’re here, let’s go.’ How can I make that leap into asking them on a date versus a friendly get-together? Thanks for the help!” there was a pause of silence as the two of you tried to think of a response, “no offense John, but you’re asking the wrong people. I’ve never been on a date,” you side-eyed Hyunjin for him letting this question pass, “and Jeongin-”

“I’ve been in the same position.”

“What?” you shrieked and the three of you winced as you heard your loud voice through your headphones.

“Warning for headphone users.” Your dark-haired friend mumbled under his breath and took off his headphones to rub at his ear.

“Hold up, when was this?” you looked at Jeongin in bewilderment. The two of you were best friends, and this was a new development for you. You had never heard of Jeongin crushing after someone. Granted, you had only known each other for about 3 years, since the two of you started university, but with the number of late-night ramblings and how often the two of you are together, it could’ve come up.

Jeongin merely shrugged. “I totally understand you, John, it’s difficult, but here’s what I did.” You nodded your head to allow Jeongin to continue, seeing as you had no way to help. “It’s hard to tell from your letter, but how close are the two of you? I got closer and closer to the person who I liked. It developed from ‘hey you’re in the same class as me,’ to something more. It became late-night shenanigans, staying up late talking about anything and everything, watching movies, and of course, doing homework together. Though, to be real, we suck at doing homework when we’re together.” He added with a laugh.

There was a pleasant smile on his face as he reminisced this person, he looked genuinely at peace, and it surprised you. Whoever this person was, they made a big impact on Jeongin’s life. It was strange that you never heard of this person, besides, Jeongin seemed to have had some closure with this person. Did it end badly? Is that why you never knew of this enigma? But he looked so happy? It kind of hurt. This person was so pivotal in his life and yet he hid it all from you. Maybe you weren’t as close as you thought. “Half inch by half inch, we became closer.” There was a definitive look on his face as he gave a nod, seemingly happy with his answer.

You, on the other hand, were a little more unconvinced. That couldn’t be the end of the story. Maybe you were a little more miffed because this was news to you, or maybe the reporter in you was finally coming out and wanting to know the conclusion. Either way, there was a bit of an edge to your voice as you asked, “okay, so after how many ½ inches does it become a date?” you turned the conversation back to John’s question, “John seems to already be friends, he just wants to take this person on a date.”

Jeongin let out a scoff and rolled his eyes at you, “it’s not linear.”

There was a pause and when it seemed like Jeongin wasn’t going to speak up again, you continued your dubious proddings, “did you say you knew how to do this?” there was an offended shout from Jeongin and he kicked you from under the table to elicit a startled yelp from you.

“I hope none of our listeners are using headphones.” Jeongin shook his head in empathy, “because my ears burn.”

“You’re the one who kicked me!”

Jeongin childishly stuck his tongue out at you, “things will work out John. I’m sure the more you get to know them the more things will fall into place.” He reassured, though you weren’t feeling reassured, and you figured John probably wasn’t either.

“Did you ever ask your person out on a date?” you asked, still wanting to get closure for your story, seeing as Jeongin wasn’t keen on providing it.

His face reddened and you resisted the urge to crow teasingly at him, “not yet.” He mumbled into the mic, but it was loud enough for you to hear with your headphones.

You leaned back in your chair to get away from the mic and let out a screech, “you don’t know what you’re talking about either!”

“You were just going to write off John’s letter! I couldn’t let you do that.” He protested with his face still red and his gaze averted.

“Ask them out John!” you took matters into your hands seeing as Jeongin was clumsier with love than you were. Hyunjin sure picked the wrong question this time. “There’s no time like the present. Don’t twist one of your normal dinners into a date, specifically plan it. Ask them if they want to go on a date at some other time than what the two of you normally do. The worst that could happen is they say no.”

“That’s mortifying! I could never do that!” the aghast look on Jeongin’s face did little to make you feel guilty.

“That’s why you never asked out your person on a date.” The hurt look that fell on his face did though. “Oh no, I’m sorry.” The chaotic atmosphere that filled the recording booth stilled and you went over to hug your friend, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No, you’re right.” He continued in a quiet voice, “I guess I got too scared to do anything, so I decided things were perfectly all right the way they were, even if I wish it was different.”

You smoothed his hair down absentmindedly from your awkward standing position and his sitting position, “relationships are scary. I think you, and John, are valid to be scared.”

“But you’re also right, there’s no time like the present.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “and in the end, neither of us was able to help John.”

“Maybe this will,” you pulled away from Jeongin in confusion so you could look at his face. There was a nervous look settled on his face and he refused to look anywhere close to you, “do you want to go on a date later?”

Your jaw probably dropped comically as you looked at him in bewilderment, “wait-are you-did you-?” did he ask what you think he did? Did he just ask you out? On-air? Was that buzzing in your ear from your headphones? Was this a setup from Hyunjin? Was Jeongin John? Somehow, even as your mind was racing a hundred miles a minute, the terrified look on Jeongin’s face was able to clear through the mess and register in your mind. You took a deep breath to stop your word vomit, “yeah.” You smiled, “let’s go on a date. Maybe a dinner date?”

The terrified look immediately washed away and was replaced with a relieved look, “that sounds great.”

Hyunjin’s yelling was so loud that the two of you could faintly hear him screaming, “finally!”

Masterlist

Context bonus: "After how many ½ inches does it become a date?” One of my female friends was trying to describe to one of my male friends dating, but none of us know how to date.

[bubblytardigrade]

that ffxiv qpr

okay trying this again, since it never went into the tags. This time with no linkies, short terms only, no words Tumblr doesn’t like, etc. we’ll see if it works....

Endwalker spoilers

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While I'm Getting Out All These Thoughts I've Been Mulling for a Year, I want to fling into the aether some thoughts about another thing that I related really strongly to with Urianger: his struggle to figure out what the heck he felt for Moenbryda.

Before I start, let me reiterate that all headcanons are valid. What I want to dig into here is specific to me, and if it's not your hc that's cool too!

So Urianger reads, to me, as aspec, or on the ace spectrum. This can mean A LOT of things and even under the same subcategory people experience being aspec very differently. The Scions are written intentionally vaguely, and in the same way that the game is written to invite you to coauthor aspects of the story, they invite you to coauthor their characterization.

So I will unabashedly admit to projecting my own orientation onto Urianger. I'm demi, and the way that pans out for me is I don't experience traditional attraction at all until I have a strong connection with someone. (For many people different kinds of attraction are totally separate spectra.) In other words, for me bits of people that give other folx the vapors are just where different limbs connect, and I get very confused about the idea of not saying "I love you" until further into a Relationship (I'm using the capital letter to differentiate the amatonormative meaning of dating, not because it's more important) because I can only experience interest in a Relationship with extremely specific people I already love deeply. I'm in my mid-30s, I can count my lifetime crushes on one hand, and I've dated two people—I'm married to the second.

That said, the number of people I have absolutely adored with all my heart is much larger. And for a number of them I absolutely agonized over what I was feeling. English really doesn't have a strong vocabulary for describing a variety of types of attraction or relationships, and the late 20th century white American culture I come from lacks a variety of frameworks to describe them.

So… while I was in denial about my feelings for my now-wife for years because I didn't think it was the right time and I didn't think she'd reciprocate them, I didn't struggle to fundamentally understand what they were. I loved her, in a way that opened the doors to wishing for a Relationship with her.

The number of times throughout the game that they very specifically talk about Urianger struggling to understand his feelings toward Moenbryda resonated with me in a really specific way. It certainly seems that at least some of the writers intended him to have latent romantic feelings, but the difficulty understanding the nature of what he felt reminds me of something else. While recognizing and describing romantic love was relatively straightforward for me, I have absolutely spent ages agonizing over the nature of my feelings toward people toward whom I have felt qpr (see: “The Struggle to Explain Relationships That Transcend 'Best Friendship' But Aren't Romantic....” by Jasmine Rose-Olesco)

In an amatonormative society like mine and possibly like Eorzea where, culturally, on a rough linear scale of closeness you're friends, you're best friends, you're romantically linked, you get married, you're family, there's not an easily accessible way to describe feelings like this person means everything to me. We are so close, not like siblings, but like…I don't know? It feels different from friendship, and it's not romantic… but I want to share my life with them. The [Ace] Visibility and Education Network (AVEN) was founded in 2001 and I wasn't aware of it until about 6 years later. Only in the last decade has the ace spectrum been more widely discussed in the mainstream and broader relationship vocabulary in general become more widespread. (People in qprs can have any orientation.) Growing up without language to help unpack these feelings, I struggled with them, ricocheting all over the amatonormative spectrum of vocabulary. I would very much relate to Urianger having qpr feelings for Moen and his studious little brain, like mine, failing to find good examples for how to describe or understand them. Agonizing over it for a decade makes perfect sense—been there/done that myself. The struggle is real! His relationship with Thancred does read romantic to me (those romcom camera angles tho!) and there’s a lot of really deep and satisfying emotionality to explore introducing romantic love to an aspec heart experienced in qpr love. There’s a lot that is shared, and some that is different. They’re both deep. 

One of the things that ultimately I love about ff (even as it drives me a little crazy) is that very few relationships—straight or not, romantic, platonic, etc—are explicitly defined. In the game, love is love is love, and with the Scions the deep platonic relationships are given the same weight and taken as seriously as the (possibly) romantic ones. You don't often see platonic relationships valued on the same level as romantic ones in media. It's…. refreshing. :3