#and may actually make them talk about self-destructive bullshit

[centaurianthropology]

My thoughts on C3E77

So apparently this one was controversial?

I'm going to say right now, I really loved everyone's decisions. They all fit the characters, but more they fit the players. I know that there are claims that Tal ignored all the warnings, but I actually think Matt may have misjudged the situation going in.

Ashley made it clear on 4SD that she did not want the shard. I think she's not really feeling the Dark Fearne storyline (and that's fair), and Matt seems to have missed that she genuinely didn't want to go down that route. Maybe he thought she was playing coy? Maybe they've been playing together so long he thought he knew a story she'd enjoy and missed her signals that she wasn't into it. I've done that before with some of my long-term players.

However that went down, Tal and she had a conversation after 4SD about what they wanted to do, and it was clear going into the episode that they at least had it planned out who was taking that shard, and it was going to be Ashton from the off. The fact that Matt was not expecting that somewhat surprises me. As Taliesin said: he put a big red backstory-shaped button in front of Ashton, and Ashton is terrified of losing people. If Fearne didn't want the shard, Ashton was going to dive on that grenade head-first. And part of Ashton wanted it. They are told they can't do something, and they will go about proving that old tree and everyone else wrong in the most self-destructive way possible. They are intensely punk in that way.

Matt may have designed the shard for Fearne, but this is not the first time that an item meant for one player ends up with another. Deathwalker's Ward was made for Percy, but through the events in the Sunken Tomb, it ended up with Vax and led to a hell of a story. And now something meant for Fearne goes to Ashton, and I have a feeling we're now in for another hell of a story. Because Ashton is now, essentially, a lava genasi, with three impossible things crammed into their broken body. Will they survive the campaign? I have no idea, but it has become clear that they don't expect to.

And honestly? This may well be what the Hells need, not in terms of power, but in terms of really realizing how self-destructive they all are. Marisha may say that no one loves a martyr, but Laudna was very much ready to play that role earlier this episode. Imogen is very self-destructive. So is Orym. So is FCG. The only two who have shown any degree of self-preservation are Fearne and Chet. The rest are bombs waiting for the most poetic moment to go off.

And today one of them did for a moment. They finally saw the end result that their self-destructive tendencies get them: Ashton blown into a thousand pieces, scattered across the top of the ziggurat. Deanna's ring saved him. Fearne's Aura of Life and FCG's Aura of Vitality saved him. Ashton could only roll and take damage.

Matt may have not designed it this way, but this was absolutely Ashton's 'where do you get your strength from' moment of the campaign, but in a very different way than Grog or Yasha experienced them. Because Ashton might just need this realization slapped into them by all their friends: this was dumb and they would have died because they didn't trust their friends. Because their strength and their salvation truly came from the people that love them.

Ashton has been, up until this point, a bit gung-ho to die for his friends. Honestly, they all are, and it's about time he and all the others learned how to live for their friends.

Anyway, hell of an episode, and a brutal but thrilling last hour. I was grinning right along with Sam. The mad fucker pulled it off by the skin of his teeth and by the grace of two friends dumping every bit of healing they had into him.

[subconsciousmysteries]

Musings about my 8 experiences

So… most 8 descriptions turn the type into a shallow meme. “Orly? You think you’re an 8? Go start a scene at the mall! because 8 is about being a Karen” “Prove ur a literal psychopath before you identify with this type”. Everyone (especially all the ppl who date 8s! Lol) begs 8s to figure ourselves out. Enneagram does a piss poor job at helping us figure ourselves out… just turns us into a caricature and forces us to prove any psychopathic behaviors we may already harbor due to this fixation.

So, I have done you people the honors of figuring 8s out!

Read what Ichazo, one of the OG, says about 8.

———

——— This is not The Cool Type. Nor is it “the dark edgy traumatized type that only the most dark edgy traumatized people can be” — that is an indirect way of still glorifying 8 as The Cool Type. 8 is literally just another type which gives its own problems to the person who has to deal with it.

I actually believe that low Te 8s are more common than high Te 8s, since as you can see here, 8 is about the inability to tolerate structure including any structures that you yourself build. 8 is NOT the Te-like desire to create more structure. Immature Te where you create a structure you didn’t really think deeply about creating, and then tear it down immediately because your immature Te doesn’t know how to keep it up, or because your more dominant Fi takes over and feels like it doesn’t want to continue suddenly, is common in 8s.

I commonly see high Tes thinking they’re 8s becuz they’re assertive bosses and good leaders. Lol. No. You guys are 3s or 1s. 8s must do a fuckton of conscious growth and development before we can begin to add the structure and consistency to our lives AND TO OUR BRAINS, that is necessary to make us good leaders of anything. The most stereotypical 8 is an ESFP Antifa looter or gang criminal with no concept of their direction in life whatsoever. Not an ambitious CEO following a tight schedule of meetings! That is structure. 8s cannot handle structure without bursting into a rage and tearing it down, by definition of the type.

The 8 being unable to handle structure is not purely an external thing. The hatred of structure runs so deep, that the 8 cannot even handle structure within his or her own mind. The 8’s hatred of external authority is the manifestation of her hatred of authority within. 8s tear down any authority they attempt to create in their own lives just as much as they tear down any external authority they see. Self destructive? Yeah. Do 8s care? ABSOLUTELY NOT! Concepts like “self destructive” are toxic and flawed and must be torn down too, according to the 8. All standards of morality are unjust and lacking truth somehow and therefore must be torn down, internally and externally. The 8 is the ultimate postmodernist.

——————

Now let’s talk about my life experience. Setting goals feels like locking myself into a cage full of chains. I literally feel like a caged beast when I define simple goals for myself, with the level of anger it causes me. I could tell you my goals but I know it’ll all be bullshit and I won’t actually follow them because I get angry about the chains the structure is imposing on me (even tho I’m the one who built it. Once its built it is out of my immediate control and has a life of its own it can use to control me). I angst and I rage about how I can’t do simple things. I only do Te stuff when absolutely forced by something in the external world which repulses me more than my own Te. I’m not able to do structure even though I know that it’s the way to make money and become the 8 -> 2 provider protector goddess queen I want to be. Um… why should money even be a thing anyways? Money is a construct of the unjust power structure. It makes my body REEEE to discipline myself into seeking money.

If I happen to spontaneously run into money without putting an elaborate, STRUCTURED effort into making money, I’ll be like “yippee!” and take it. But putting too much conscious effort into working hard and making money makes me fucking REEEEE as it activates my sense of injustice about everything you could possibly feel a sense of injustice about.

I’m too prideful about how I won’t be controlled, even by my own superego and my own dreams. I will tear those structures I create down too because I believe there is no truth in anything, not even anything I create or aspire to (loss of Holy Truth). My superego knows that it’s good for me to follow my work ethic and go to work. My rageful vengeance complex cannot go to work because I’m too angry about all the little injustices at work and the corrupt nature of corporate work to begin with. Self-destructive internal struggles like this where you tear down any decision-making framework you are trying to build due to seeing little injustices everywhere, are all part of the 8 fixation. 8s must heal ourselves through being aware of them and reasoning with them.

The 8 fixation is not purely externalized. No fixation is purely externalized. It is most important for the Assertive types out of any of the types, to realize the internal psychological nature of their fixation, as these types are the most negligent of their internal psychology

[olderthannetfic]

May I ask who is Winterfox? /gen

--

A psychopath.

She's a blogger who decided to break into English-language SFF publishing and set about destroying her competition, starting with other WOC and other queer women (her own two claims to minority status). She presented herself as an ethnic minority, which is technically true as far as it goes. She's ethnically Thai-Chinese rather than purely Thai... She's also an heiress of a hotel empire. Her most impressive close relative is worth over a billion. The rest are merely millionaires. She does have US citizenship, but this is a person raised in Thailand who has primarily lived in Thailand and then Hong Kong. I leave it to readers to decide how much of an oppressed minority that makes her.

No one knew just how wealthy she was when this all started, but they did know she was a Thai woman living in Thailand, not diaspora in the West. They also should have been able to see she was a bully. Should.

That whole Worldcon-y SFF crowd is so dumb at all things race-related that this toxic parasite was able to manipulate them for years. Not everyone, but more than enough. Even now, many people still think the callouts were racists cruelly going after an innocent minority.

Before all that, she used to be a book blogger who hated everything and ripped books apart in her reviews. She managed to tank 50bookspoc, which was a com for the self evident reading challenge.

Her pro writing name is Benjanun Sriduangkaew. Her writing... well... you're not missing out.

She was and is a cancerous tumor on the side of SFF fandom who gets away with it because credulous fools can't tell the difference between a disadvantaged minority and a Thai kajillionaire or between genuine critique of racist media and targeted strikes on professional rivals.

Here's a quote:

"She stalked authors she disliked online, talked about subjecting others to violence (acid attack, beheading and rape, for example), and apparently enticed earnest social justice allies into private correspondences which then gave her blackmail material. Her "performative rage" methods even contributed to one author attempting suicide via overdose."

It's normal to be angry about racism and even to have the occasional scathing book review, but requireshate (yes, really) aka winterfox hated everything. Her style was nothing but hate, and that should have been a red flag for people. At some point, rage becomes either an out of control coping mechanism that has turned into self harm or a deliberate tactic.

Beware when you see one of these people.

But more than that, beware being the patsy they use against their enemies. No bully like this is effective alone. They weaponize all the dumbasses who want to elevate a voice, any voice, to assuage their own guilt and helplessness in the face of societal racism.

Another quote about the destruction of 50bookspoc, also from hesychasm's post:

But I was surprised -- and frankly, very angry -- at how many of the honest, earnest advocates in that particular community bent themselves into all kinds of contortions to give someone like Sriduangkaew legitimacy. At how some of us had to patiently explain that calling an author a "stupid fuck," for example, was kind of messed up and served no social justice purpose whatsoever. And that trumpeting the idea that this was actually a laudable action was also messed up...because why? Honestly, why? The prize at the end of all of this is supposed to be equality, and that kind of bullshit not only takes our eyes off the prize, it has us staring daggers at each other.

Here's her Fanlore.

And again, her first targets were other people she perceived as the competition: genuinely disadvantaged WOC and/or queer women. That is nearly always how this type of bully operates. We see them in every fake-authentic fuckface in our part of fandom too. It's a distinctive pattern once you've encountered one of these.

Don't be the sucker who gives them power.

[stuckybarton]

Sucker For Pain i

SUMMARY: You were new to the team, but what everyone didn't know was you weren't so new to the God of Mischief. CHARACTERS: Loki Laufeyson x Ex!Reader [Ex to Lovers again?] WARNINGS: Profanities. Suggestive Themes. Slight Angst and horrible self-image. Grammar Mistakes. English not being my first language. [Not Beta’d tho] WORDS: 2,956 CHAPTERS: [1/3] A/N; Life happened and yeah, didn’t have much time to write. Not my best work for this mini-series, but I’m fighting through for this. Hope you guys enjoy~

PART TWO | PART THREE

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"Agent Y/N Y/L/N." You introduced yourself the first moment you were escorted into the compound by Director Nick Fury. Multiple sets of faces both new and old had come to greet you. For a moment you wouldn't even believe that this is was the new life you would find yourself to be a part of from now on.

Years in the job for SHIELD before disappearing off the grid to get as much information about HYDRA, everyone had thought you had betrayed them and you had accepted that they would think so lowly of you after all the near-deaths you had to endure on the job. Even with the mission becoming more of a death wish, you had accepted the role Nick had given you all those years ago and now you were rewarded, immensely. A spot on the Avengers as part of the Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

The familiar face of Nat was the first to greet you with a hug. A fiercely tight one, it had been so long since you've seen a friend. Then your eyes fell towards the rest of the team; Bucky Barnes, who you had a few close encounters with during your time with HYDRA. You had witness everything they had done to him and stood on trail to clean his name. Steve Rogers, who, with Sharon Carter, had assisted in guarding Steve while SHIELD was still under HYDRA's control. But among the familiar faces, one stood out the most.

Loki Laufeyson.

To many, the man was a snake, a God that had once brought death and destruction in New York. But to you, he was different, this was the man that you had spent your lonely nights with while under the guise of a traitor. It had once just been a physically thing between the two of you, neither wanting to know about each other's lives. You knew he was a God, a man that had wronged the world, but he had never known about you, the woman that had painted yourself as a traitor for the better of the world. The one that had been called every name on the book for the sake of making sure you did your part right.

Then it got serious between the two of you. Admission of love was told between both of your lips. But it was dangerous for you two to be together especially when you were already told by Fury that you can come back to the surface. You didn't know what side he was on, and you did not have the heart to make him choose if the time would come.

So you two parted. A month ago. The pain still throbbing you like an unattended bullet hole right through your heart. It was still so painful to look at him and not remember him crumbling on his knees begging you to stay. The first sob that escaped his lips and forever haunted your dreams. A never-ending loop in the back of your head as your demons screamed at you for breaking an already broken man.

"I for one am happy you're finally here. Another woman to add to an already Man's Man world in the compound." Nat teased glancing towards the other individuals that had come to know the new face. "With introductions out of the way, you've got a lot of explaining to do for the past few years."

You could only smile at your friend. You did have so much to explain to her, things had been murky between you and Clint, but after everything, Nat had refused to believe you would betray them, betray her, and it was finally a relief to be able to return back home, seeing the people that mean the most to you.

"Tell me about it." You muttered allowing Nat to quickly pull your away from the crowd, but it missed your eyes how he was still looking. Ice blue eyes a contract to the burning gaze he had towards you.

Forget about him. Forget about him. You were here for a new opportunity. No him. Never him.

For the next few weeks, everyone had grown to accept you in your new role as part of the Avengers. You kept up with Steve, Bucky, and Sam during their runs. Sam more than happy to finally have someone that had the same pace as him, but only for you to laugh and out run him just to get a reaction out of the high flier. Tony and Bruce had also found a kinship in you, having provided them enough information about HYDRA's experiments and location made most of their missions easier. Then there was Nat and Clint, your confidant in this new life. Every single moment that was not dedicated to a mission was spent with them; may it be movie night or a simple get together outside the compound, often times bringing Wanda and Vision along just to mess with you and call you a 5th wheel of the group.

But among number of members on the team, everyone had noticed you constantly avoided one Thor Odinson and one Loki Laufeyson. The only real time you would even dare talk to either of the brothers would be during training--other than that, you tried your best to avoid them, Loki most especially. Every single moment that would force the two of you to be in the same room, Loki had a glare while you tried your best to avoid his gaze.

Everyone noticed, everyone didn't seem to worry too much. It comes with having a former-villain part of the team. They thought you would eventually get used to the God's presence just as much as they did.

"You ever gonna tell me what's going on between you and Loki?" Nat inquired avoiding your punch.

What you hated the most about sparring with Nat was her capability of multitasking. Talking and snooping about someone else's business while also kicking their ass in the process--this was the predicament you were in right in this very moment.

"Nothing is going on." You muttered landing back first on the mat after being thrown like a rag doll by Nat. Eyes looking at the ceiling, you wondered if it was a good idea to actually come clean to her about her past with the God of Mischief. "I know what he's done to New York and I think you can't blame me for taking precaution when it comes to him."

Nat now comes hovering on top of you, the narrowed eyes and gentle smirk was all you needed to know--she knew it was bullshit. But when she had stopped pushing you for more information, it was enough for you to just change the subject.

"They found Dominic?" You inquired. One of the first big missions that everyone was focusing on was one of the leading Scientist for HYDRA. With the exposure of HYDRA to the world, some of them had moved away and found themselves in much shadier company, much to everyone's radar now spiking.

Dominic Wagner was, in part, partially responsible for the Winter Soldier program in the modern era. One of the pioneers in moving the project into a much younger sets of test subjects. You lost contact with the man as soon as your got back into the surface, but it had also meant a target was on your back when they found out you were a double agent.

"He's in Russia. Wasting away all the funding for the program with parties" Nat points out. "Still a better way to spend the money that abducting kids everywhere."

You nodded, memories of files upon files for the prospects still haunted you to this day.

"When are you taking him out?" You inquired. In your time with the SHIELD, the red in both of your ledger had made you two a hot commodity if the situation present itself as shoot to kill. Neither of you would hesitate. You knew you would now, after everything, but if it means one less bad people in this earth, you would swallow your new morals.

"Fury wants him alive." She pointed out finally standing back up to her own two feet, leaving you on your back, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. "I know as much as you do, we want him dead for everything he has done, but we need him alive so we can get the others."

You nodded, this was one of the few things you had to get used to as part of the team. Death was best solution in SHIELD--at least in your team, not here. As long as you were part of Steve's team, you would need to choose whether or not killing would be the best option. Hope that you weren't so blessed to be given in your time under.

"I get a first shot when we don''t have any use of him anymore." You muttered finally standing back up with Nat's help. Steps faltering at the sight of the God of Mischief, training with the likes of Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes. A weird mix up, but wasn't hard to understand why.

"Why don't you shoot your shots with him for now." Nat teased, finally making you break from staring at the plain black shirt and green sweatshort-clad Loki Laufeyson. "If we try to ignore the death count during his attack, he is sort-of your type in men." Nat wiggled her brows. quick to avoid you as you attempted to swat her in the ass, eyes now turned away from God and his training partners.

"By type, you mean psychotic with possible Daddy-issue? Then you might just be right." You snort.

"I'm offended you think of me as such, Darling"

Jerking your head to the owner of the voice, how the hell did he sneak up behind you without you noticing. You glanced at Nat in panic and like the traitor that she was, made a terrible excuse of being needed in Bruce's lab. Now being left in the man's presence, you could all but remember the last time you had been this close to the man.

Heartbreaks.

Words that you didn't mean.

Words that he didn't mean.

It still hurt you, and you were sure it hurts him just as much, if not more now, finally realizing why there had been a need for a breakup between the two of them all those weeks ago.

"Here I thought I would have someone to trust. You mortals continue to disappoint me." He hissed.

Your eyes glanced at the other training trio, noticing all three of them were in their own little world to even noticed what was going on between the two of them.

"Tell me, Darling..." He whispered, head leaning towards the shell of your ears. The familiar shiver run through your skin as just his voice. Memories of the very things his silver tongue had whispered had you flustered and breathless, more than from your earlier training with Nat. "Was it satisfying to play with a God?"

Before you could even mutter a word, his constantly gentle hand now covered your jaw, emitting a squeak from your lips and stopping you from saying a word. He was never this forceful, nor did he do anything that would hurt you. Was this the true nature of the man you had finally thought you have been the best part of you. To have loved a man that everyone was right to stay away from?

"Or is it shame finally coming to you, to be ever involved with someone like me?"

You tried to pry his hand away from you, but he was too strong--stronger than you could ever think of being.

"Or is this you taking your opportunity to move from one bed to another? Who will it be this time, Y/N? My oaf of a brother or will it be Soldier out of time? Who will you whore this time?"

And you finally snapped. With a resounding slap, all three individuals had heard your attack on the man and Loki finally releasing his hold on your jaws. A chuckle escaped his lips and only brought the first line of tears to fall from your eyes. You never wanted to believe him to be a monster, but here he was, proving her wrong.

"I am in doubt of the foundation of our relationship for the past years, Y/N. I am the God of Mischief and Lies and the only mortal I had ever truly opened to had done this to me. Lied to me for such a long time, lied about the entirety of our relationship."

"You will never understand."

"Oh no," he chuckled darkly, eyes glaring straight into your own. "I understand well enough to know, you would never love someone like me and I deserve every lie and heartache I am enduring because of everything I have ever done in my past."

Before you could defend yourself and the genuinity of your relationship with the God, he had made his excuse. Leaving you to ponder of the true damage of your breakup with Loki, and the aftermath it had now held for the both of you. He was right, you had lied, and either way, their relationship will fall apart because of those lies.

He was the God of Mischief and Lies.

Yet, he did not expect for this biggest lie to break him the most. The separation had been painful, he had always hoped for a better life with you. Then a month passed since your breakup, he sees you, it hits him like a sharp knife to the chest all over again. He experience the pain of a stab to the chest, but it would never compare to the pain of seeing you in this very compound with the truth of your life that you refused to ever open to him.

This was karma coming to haunt him it seems.

It had been well over a week now since the first time he had actually confronted you about everything. It wasn't how he planned for things to go through. He never wanted to hurt you, but he was a monster after all. A monster that his own father had told his people to avoid. A bedtime story to scare mischievous kids into submission.

He had always thought after everything he had to endure, had to do, had to escape, he could finally live a peaceful life. A life to finally start anew. A life where he could finally change for the best. A mortal woman had made him make those ideas come into reality, you had always became the reason why he would never have his redemption in life.

A bitter idea with no possible resolution.

How could he have ever believed that anyone would ever love someone like him? After everything he had ever done, he was never allowed to be loved. You had proved that somehow.

'Mr. Laufeyson, you are needed for a meeting with the team'

Breaking from his little bubble. He sighed finally returning back to reality, into the little comforts the library could give him. The week had been gruelling for him, three individual witnessed the altercation between himself and you. It had spread like wildfire, but thanking the Gods that no one was able to listen to the conversation.

He had to endure most of the questioning. In everyone's eyes, he was, after all, still under everyone's constant scrutiny. A man that no one could trust. But he refused to say a single word knowing you did the same thing. It was better to keep your mouth shut instead of letting people know exactly what had happened. Somehow that brought a smile on his face. He might not share a future with you, but might as well make the most out of making your life a living hell, as much you did it to him.

Shutting the book he was barely even reading, he placed the book back into the shelf before walking his way towards the meeting room.

He could easily teleport, but he preferred to enjoy his moments of peace without his oaf of a brother breathing down his neck or Stark constantly testing his patience with his quips. It also gave him a moment to school his features, he knew well enough about the mission to know you would also be in attendance. Be more invested in this mission than anyone else.

It was a few things he was relearning about you now that you were out in the open as everyone claims you to be. You were a free spirited being that could meld with anyone you were in the area with. He had watched you throw relentless jabs at Tony during your first few days that had the man surprisingly raise a white flag. But the most dangerous thing he had to learn was the familial relationship you had with one Natasha Romanoff and Clint Burton, two people that he kept his distance with the most.

"Professor Snape has finally graced us with his presence."

Loki has learned since joining the team to choose his battle when it comes to Tony. This was one of those moment. Finding a vacant chair besides his brother, he had taken his seat. A big mistake on his part as he finds from across the table, you sat. In between a glaring Romanoff and Barton.

Wearing a smirk, just to get on the two super spies' nerve, he turned his attention right back into the meeting. He begins formulating a few little schemes to not only get on the two's nerved, but most especially yours.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

Tabletop Stuff: How To Create A Good Player Character

So you’re a player starting a new campaign, and you need a new character! Or you’re part of an existing campaign, but your last character just ate shit fatally, or otherwise left the party. You want your new character to be fun to play, loved by the DM and the other players, and to contribute positively and dynamically to the action. But character creation makes you sick to your stomach. You’re worried about creating a character who is unlikeable, boring, or who somehow, despite your best intentions, never really gets involved in the plot.

“Yes, thank you, I feel nauseous with dread.”

It’s mad easy to make a quality PC. But first you have to realize that the characters you like to read about or write about are not necessarily the same characters you will succeed at playing. The table is a totally unique creative environment where you, the player, do not control any variables in your environment, you don’t have a lot of time to think about what your character is going to say, and you don’t have any control over how other characters respond to you.

“So what does that mean?”

1 - Don’t make a point of “challenging yourself.”

This is not a novel!! Or your fanfic drafts!! Or any other space where you can hem and haw and agonize over every line, in the name of creatively stretching your wings! You are at the gaming table, other people are waiting for you to take your turn. Your character should be someone you can quickly and comfortably slip in and out of. 

Do you feel stupid or bad when you try to act cocky? Then don’t make your character cocky. Do you hate chatting people up? Then don’t play a face character.  You may have many favorite characters, in media and in your own writing, who act totally against your own social impulses. That’s great! That’s a wonderful escapist fantasy! But you have 2 seconds to think of something to say at the table, and then you’re committed to it and you roll your dice. 

There are thousands of great and distinct characters who don’t specifically do things that you, the human being who has to say all the stuff THEY say, hate doing and are bad at.

2. For God’s sake, make them care about stuff.

Jesus. Jesus. Emmanuel. Lord God. “My character has a hard time trusting people.” “My character has a hard time lowering their walls.” “My character is an aloof loner.” “My character doesn’t like other people.” “My character is fixated on one goal and doesn’t care about anything else.” “My character doesn’t get emotional.” Stop it. Stop it. I’m dying. You’re killing me. Look at me, I’m turning blue. Stop.

The only thing - the only actual thing - your character has to do is care. No, not about themselves, or some shit from their backstory that doesn’t involve anyone else. About everything! They should have an opinion about everyone they meet, and every situation they end up in! Don’t make it a battle for your character to get emotionally invested in the other characters in the campaign, don’t make a character who will consider a lot of the events and institutions in the world irrelevant to them. 

If you find yourself saying “my character just has a hard time connecting because [FILL IN ANY REASON AT ALL],” you fucked up. Make them care. Your DM created a whole world for you to care about it. You and your friends give up hours every week to go on an adventure that’s meaningless if you don’t emotionally buy in. There are plenty of ways to play a character who’s damaged, or has trust issues, or has an overriding singular drive, that doesn’t preclude them from making quick emotional connections. 

3. Give them the drive to act.

Make them active. Make them brave ( “I’m terrified but I’m determined to overcome my fear” is also brave).

Caution is your enemy. Adventures are not cautious endeavors. Heroes are not cautious people. Put your finger on the scale of action vs caution to make sure that they are always talking the other party members into action, not out of it.

4. LIFEHACK: HOW TO MAKE LOVEABLE FLAWS.

I recently figured out how to trick my players into giving their characters serious, but loveable and relatable, flaws. I said, “Hey, haha, what’s something that’s funny about your character? Like, something that’s just kind of ridiculous about them as a person.”

Comedy is rooted in tragedy. But comedy is tragedy you can get your arms around. Ask yourself, during character creation, what you could make fun of this character for. What’s something genuinely absurd and garbage and self-destructive about them, but in a way you can laugh at? You’ll come up with an achilles heel for them to overcome that will make the other people at the table fall in love with them, instead of just feeling frustrated with their constant bullshit. 

----

AND THAT’S IT ACTUALLY? 

- Don’t deliberately make them hard for yourself to play

- make them the kind of person who gets emotionally invested about stuff

- make them people of action

- give them a flaw you can laugh at

If you want to bounce a character concept off of me go for it, but if you just treat this like a checklist, I think you should be fine.

[disgruntledspacedad]

Javier Peña and commitment

a better love series  character analysis

Okay, not-so-briefly, let me finish what I started with this post, and say a few more words about Javier Peña and commitment. 

I think typical fanon describes Javi as a rogue, smoky, commitment-phobe man slut. The kind of guy who never settles down because he’s too busy having fun with his hookers. And yeah, at first glance, that’s a valid assumption. Javi definitely puts off that vibe. Hell, I think he even believes that of himself. 

I call bullshit, though. 

Javi is obviously an affection starved softie who is seeking intimacy and human contact. He just doesn’t know how to get it. Watch how deeply he connects with each of the women he sleeps with. He publicly greets the hookers in Medellín by name (like seriously what man does this??) and his relationship with Gabby seems intensely personal. He cares about what happens to her. He’s sweet, almost tender with her. 

This is a man with a huge heart and deep, unfulfilled needs.

Now, let me tease apart what I think happened that scarred Javi so profoundly.

I want to start with his family life. 

Now, a lot of this falls deep into headcanon territory, but this entire post is in context of Better Love, so that’s fine. However, I don’t think it’s too far off the mark for canon Javi, too. Just things to bear in mind.

Okay, so in The Kingpin Strategy, Chucho makes references to the fact that Javi has always been free spirited and idealistic. “You couldn’t wait to get out of here.”

Javi says, “It was right here, wasn’t it? The last time we had this conversation.” He sounds resentful, frustrated.

And Chucho replies, “You didn’t listen to me then, either.”

Man oh man, this says a lot. There’s a lot of reference to some very old bitterness, most (but not all of it) on Javi’s end. Let’s break it down.

In Better Love, Javi lost his mom to colon cancer when he was nineteen. We know from canon that he was chomping at the bits to get out of town, so I kind of think that Javi packed his bags the day that he turned eighteen and left. He’s from a small, close knit family, and him taking off into the blue without any warning would have shocked them. It would have hurt. 

The fact that he and Chuco have their conversation in the driveway is telling, too. 

I think Javi spent some significant time estranged from his family, and things were probably still rocky between them when his mom passed away. Colon cancer can be pretty subtle. Javi’s mom didn’t get a diagnosis until it was far too late for effective treatment. It would have hit her hard and fast, and she and Javi may not have had much time to reconcile. Hell, she was upset by Javi leaving - she may not have even told him what was going on.

Ouch.

Now, Javi is a guy that silently shoulders all of the responsibility that he’s not meant to carry, and he’s absolutely going to blame himself for taking off like that, and for being too stubborn to call home and check on Mom. Her death is the first in a series of wounds that lead to Javi’s (very misguided) belief that he’s a shit human, when truly, nothing could be further from the truth. 

Next, let’s talk about Lorraine. 

We know from Javi’s conversation with Steve that he thinks Lorraine was better off without him, giving us another glimpse of that deep seated self-loathing that we know he carries. Javi almost sounds wistful, like he regrets leaving her. Certainly, he regrets hurting her (more proof that Javi is actually a pretty sensitive guy - he knows he fucked up). But then we actually meet Lorraine in season three, and there’s something really weird there. 

Now, granted, Javi left her at the alter. Things are bound to be weird. But look at how he’s drawn to her, like he just can’t help crossing the room to see her again, even years later. That was the first big red flag for me. 

Then, watch how Lorraine treats him. She’s dismissive, pretty biting. And okay, yeah, she’s well within her right to be bitter. But then she says this:

“Can you imagine if we actually were married?”

Like, scoffs it. Guys, that’s a pretty serious dig. Lorraine is implying that Javi is beneath her, that he could never, ever be decent husband material. And watch his reaction. He takes this cut like he’s used to taking this cut from her. I don't know, but to me, it just reeks of a history of toxicity.

Men are absolutely capable of being the victims of toxic relationships and emotional abuse. I mean, duh. But try telling that to Javier Peña, with his tendency to internalize and self destruct. 

It would make a lot of sense to me that their relationship was built on this type of fucked up interaction, with Lorraine constantly pushing Javi to be this perfect dude with a white picket fence, and constantly calling him on his “failure” to do so. Maybe some of it was rooted in racism and classism - Lorraine seems like she could be that petty, materialistic type. Maybe Javi just wasn’t ready to settle down. 

Remember, too, that Javi’s love language is acts of service. He’s not a super romantic guy in the traditional sense, but he wants to do things for the person he loves, practical, tangible things to keep them safe and happy. If Javi thought that he could do better by Lorraine by putting a ring on her finger, it might be pretty easy to persuade him that he “ought” to do that, especially if there’s a continued history of verbal abuse. Remember that we tend to believe the things our abusers say about us, and that most of the time, this stuff starts subtle. If Lorraine is constantly suggesting that Javi’s not good enough for her, eventually, he’s going to fucking believe it. 

And consider the fallout of skipping town on your wedding day. No matter if the relationship is healthy or not, men tend to get the short end of the stick when it comes to breakup sympathy, and to leave a pretty woman like Lorraine waiting at the alter? My god, people would have been vicious to Javi. 

He probably believed all of the shitty things they said about him.

Javi threw himself into his career, and between a dangerous, high stress job with the DEA and never addressing these old hurts (Javi just doesn’t do that, you know), what you wind up with is a deeply wounded, “self sufficient” (read: emotionally constipated) man with raging self esteem issues and an intense fear of emotional intimacy. Now, all of this shit might have scarred Javi, but it doesn’t change his nature. Javi has a huge heart, he’s fiercely idealistic, and he desperately wants to do the right thing. And we all need love and human connection. 

Javi just denies this emphatically. 

But the ugly truth is, Javi avoids long term relationships because he thinks he doesn’t deserve them. It’s not even about being hurt again, not anymore. He almost sees it as an ethical thing, dammit. Give this boy a hug. 

This is why it took a fucking bomb to get him off his ass and admit his feelings for Ears. Javi would never, ever have done that without something very radical catching his attention. He would have let Ears walk straight out of his life, and yeah, it would have torn him to pieces, and he’d have always regretted it and wondered ‘what if,’ but that fear is an old, deeply rooted thing. That’s why I have Ears sort of pick up on the gravity of Javi saying, “I’m all in,” to her at the end of The Rules of Engagement. She’s not eloquent, but she’s pretty intuitive, and she knows that a commitment is something that Javier Peña does not take lightly.

And let me just say this about commitment: Javier Peña is a man who honors his fucking commitments. Watch what he’s willing to do for his informants - he always, always puts their wellbeing first, even before his own, even before the integrity of the hunt for the cartels. 

And Javier Peña is beyond devoted to bringing down the cartels. Like, that’s his entire arc in the show, right?

He’s committed to justice, too. Like fiercely, will do fucking anything to make things right, to make them fair. He wants to do the right thing so much it burns.

So, I don’t think it’s fair at all to say that Javier Peña is a man who fears commitment. He fears intimacy, while at the same time, he craves it. He fears human connection, when really, that’s the thing he needs most. 

But he doesn’t fuck around once he decides something. 

Which is the really, really fun thing about Better Love. For the first time, we get to see Javier Peña, the idealist who wears his poorly disguised heart blatantly on his sleeve, the man who goes for broke trying to get things done, the man who’s passions literally destroy him, in an intensely emotional relationship with another human. One who is just as devoted to him in return. 

So, anyway, if you’re still reading this, wow. I just wanted to babble about how Javier Peña is far more than brooding testosterone. Actually, he’s a very soft boy who needs patience and a lot of healing, and somebody who is willing to meet him exactly where he is and love him because of it.

And I want to give him that. 

[diaryofanangryasianguy]

A letter to #stopasianhate

We’ve all seen the rise and the fading of the hashtag but instead of crying about why it’s not pinned, it’s important to actually talk about the issue and where we go from here.

Do people even know why it started? Who started it? The boiling point was obviously the Atlanta spa shootings in combination with anti-Asian hate crimes and covid but anti-Asian racism has existed long before the hate crimes of 2021 and 2020 and long before covid in 2019. It’s just that mainstream media attention has only picked it up over the last year and a half or so. Some of y’all, or perhaps most of y’all just haven’t been paying attention to your fellow Asian human beings.

Like any other form of racism, it’s an experience over a lifetime and shapes the quality of life for both individuals and groups over the course of generations in a triple constant state of time in the past, present, and future AND is committed by individuals, groups, societies, and the social systems that keep our current world going. It’s like air, it’s everywhere. Now obviously, we can’t get into everything since this isn’t an extensive history lesson but Anti-Asian racism isn’t just something that started a year ago nor is it exclusive to western countries, which is something we’re all really fucking tired of saying and arguing over.

#stopasianhate is a grassroots, on-the-ground-street movement that was started by Asian people that were new to the activist scene and also had little to no activist knowledge, many that were getting involved (or had the courage to) for the first time. It was not born from large political or organizational think-tanks. It was born out of sadness and anger at the most basic human level by the most basic, everyday people. And because it was born in such a way, it didn’t gain much traction or support among some groups, such as the right-wingers that don’t think racism hinders the quality of life nor from the leftists that demand more from new activists who don’t even know much to begin with. The attacks and insults come from both sides.

#stopasianhate was and is still plagued by ignorance, erasure, and elitism. And let’s not act like racists, non-Asian individuals, and Asian leftists haven’t been trying to discredit the movement since the very beginning. Who it did bring in and appeal to however, were the larger, semi-apolitical masses that wanted to do something—anything. Thus we started to see the bridge and coalition-building between the masses that may not have known much, through no fault of their own, and between those that did have some knowledge and were willing to educate or spread awareness. Of course, we are still seeing that now and in my opinion, it’s better to bring in and teach folks than to discredit or even degrade them before they even begin the journey into something as complex as race and racism, as simple as it may sound.

Though the movement is still on-going, it has largely faded from mainstream attention and tumblr is probably one of the only social media sites where some people still use it on the daily, though there are pocket communities that still use it on Twitter and Facebook for example. In my opinion, it was a missed opportunity for us Asian folks to build the movement into something far beyond ourselves. If we can’t even push a movement that was made by us and for us, what changes can we expect in the long run?

Too often have I seen Asian folks fighting over the fucking name of the hashtag instead of building on it into a larger mass movement to address the reasons as to why it even came about in the first place, reasons that stretch back years, decades, and centuries even. It ain’t just the divide-and-conquer tactics of white supremacy that break up or stagger movements, sometimes it’s just the little petty in-fighting bullshit like that.

Now this isn’t to say #stopasianhate has failed or anything, not even close. I’ve seen people across the US, to Canada, to Australia, across Europe, even folks in Asia and elsewhere that have pushed the movement. For the basic, everyday person to come together with others to create a movement spanning one part of the globe to the other is amazing and highlights the power that people wield when they are united on something. It shows that we as Asian people regardless of country, ethnicity, nationality, gender, class, sexual orientation, political and religious beliefs, and everything else, could come together on one thing if nothing else. Who says we can’t come together because we can, we did, and we will.

Movements don’t stop just because a hashtag gains less traction or because the mainstream media ain’t reporting on it as much. Movements have always been here and will continue to be built so long as people come together as we always have. So sure #stopasianhate isn’t as mainstream as it once was but who’s to say that Asian people aren’t organizing, building, and rallying as they’ve always done in the past, present, and future, and across the US and other countries across the globe? There are movements all across the world right now if you pay a bit more attention.

So where do we go from here? That’s up to us, simple enough. We don’t need to be activists to do something or say something. We don’t need qualifications to speak on something that we know is morally, ethnically, and just plain humanly fucking wrong. And we certainly don’t need to set a goal so fucking high, it can’t even be done in our lifetimes. I really hate this toxic elitism in social justice spaces where people only want to do something or celebrate when society is completely fucking destroyed or something. Honestly, that shit ain’t happening anytime soon so shut the fuck up about it and find ways to navigate and change shit, if not for yourself then for people beyond you and ultimately for society as a whole.

Who cares if someone is only concerned about politics and signing bills? Who cares if someone is only concerned about media representation and movies? Who cares if someone is only concerned about opening up a small business or owning something for themselves? Who cares if someone just wants to draw or make music or write stories or play sports or something else? Let people do what they do best in THEIR field or passion.

When it comes down to it, we need ALL people across ALL fields and passions to contribute to the larger means of human rights and social justice. It ain’t about grooming everybody to adopt some grand utopian self-destruction plan that doesn’t have any fucking sense of reality. It’s about compassion, rebirth, discovery, change, creation, and whatever other shit that comes about when basic, common, everyday ass people come together to do something beyond themselves. And in the grand scheme of things, #stopasianhate is just one of the many proofs of that.

Regardless of where we go and what we do, #stopasianhate is part of human history in the year 2021 and for that, even with all its criticisms and support, you as a movement have my love and this letter is being offered to you.

[quarterdollar]

for the hyperfixation ask meme 💕💔💎 (for pokemon)

ouugh thank you PC [opens my analysis papers]

💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

While he isn't my number 1 (that's Colress lol) I'm gonna talk about Lysandre because he's been on the brain lately everyone say thank you Evolutions and DeNA 🤪

What's always made me the Most Insane about him is that like, of all the Pokémon villains, Lysandre is at the exact crossroads of "this ideology actually exists in real life" and "holy shit what the fuck is wrong with this guy". The villains that could reasonably exist IRL are generally pretty low-key, largely committed to stealing things and accruing wealth and power. The more out-there, fantastical villains are generally so out-there that they are only threats because of their access to Pokémon, confined to the world they live in. But Lysandre? He's concerned about the continued survival of life on earth due to resource scarcity and human greed, and his solution to this problem is to kill everyone and thing not associated with his elitist cult by launching a fucking nuke. Neo-Malthusianism is real! And so are weapons of mass destruction! Ohh my god! This cunt is a Metal Gear villain bro!!!

So obviously he's fucked up and terrifying in a very relevant way, but I also really like that Lysandre genuinely believes that what he's doing is necessary to stave off a terrible future. He is 100% a classist hypocrite, no doubt about that, but his stated goal of ensuring an eternally beautiful world without strife isn't him bullshitting. He sees that Kalos is in a peacetime upswing and is desperate to make sure that it stays that way forever. He cares a ludicrous amount, but his privileged background and ego-centric sense of responsibility prevent him from seeing the actual causes of the problems that cause him so much grief. Obviously no one else is capable of caring as much as he does, and years of philanthropy and innovation couldn't solve every humanitarian crisis ever, so of course the problem is all those people he tried to help who clearly don't care. Nothing else short of mass murder can fix this one guys. Capitalism and the military industrial complex are fine, it's the ungrateful layman that's soiling the earth.....

TL;DR I loooove his specific brand of crazy XY were so robbed of their full potential it could've been the finest Military Drama For Babies the world has ever seen. Also he's 7 ft tall and pairs leather with a cravat like are you kidding me. he's so hot for what lmao

💔 tell us about one of your LEAST favorite characters and why you dislike them.

I really, really do not like Brendan. While May as a rival is written as this sweet kid next door, Brendan has an ego to him and even displays some sexism that don't really go away. I just really hate his attitude and the game forces you to be buddies anyway, like he never gets the wind knocked out of his sails and he isn't even intended to be a "mean rival" or whatever. If he's going to be a little shit at least write that with more self-awareness, like Bede or Blue. Stop calling May your friend!! You are not friends!! All you do is act high and mighty for no reason and then go "aww me and the bestie :)" I am going to smack you upside the head !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's a shame because Pokemon is generally pretty aware of when it presents to you A Bitch (my god there are so many dicks and bastards) and I would accept Brendan with open arms if he wasn't constantly pushed as the player's Bestie despite not doing anything to earn the title. Horrid devil child do NOT sit with my kids at lunchtime

💎 are there any fun facts or trivia that you would like to share?

The franchise features two transgender characters, Akari from 1999 manga How I Became a Pokémon Card, and the more well-known Beauty Nova from X and Y. They're a trans boy and trans woman respectively :0

An unused cutscene featuring Cyrus in Diamond and Pearl was uncovered last year, which is mostly interesting because the game is over a decade old and we only just found it lol. Also his dialogue is pretty cute, though a little inconsistent with his final character.

LGPE do not allow for use of Abilities, but they're still coded into the game, which is how Meltan and Melmetal's Abilities got leaked.

Ghetsis is 6'6". What the fuck

N's battle themes start with notes that correspond the the first 8 prime numbers. I don't remember what they are I am bad at math. But N isn't :)

[fairycosmos]

lmao im actually so desperate to die im considering swallowing two peach pits just to see if i will choke to death because nothing else ive tried has worked so far . you know what my life doesnt fucking matter ill do it. with my luck it wont work i feel im being punished and thats why i cant die. ill do it. if i dont get back to you something happened but i doubt it. im tired like you said i deserve peace. we do. bye maybe i hope this works this is pathetic but im desperate to die

hey, i'm really sorry to hear you're feeling this way. it seems like you're totally overwhelmed right now and i completely understand how debilitating that can be. i know there's nothing i can do or say that will really change how awful it feels, and you're probably not in the headspace to read all this. but if you ever want to come back to it, it'll be here. maybe you could try some of these grounding exercises, here / here and here beforehand to get you in a place where you can focus a little. it's alright, there's no rush or pressure. i just wanted to say first of all that this is not pathetic in the slightest. sometimes the world gets on top of you and you go througn so much trauma and hurt that it really does feel like giving up is the only option. people can only take so much, and i get it. that's the trick of the suicidal brain though, i think. it uses life's suffering and your own past experiences to convince you that it is always going to be this way. to romanticize death and make it into something it isn't in your head. it is actually very hard to die, as i'm sure you know. and it's not the peaceful option or escape you're looking for, either. and the most paramount thing i want to say is that your life 100% does matter. this was never up for debate. you were born with an inherent worth and it hasn't went away just because you can no longer see it. you honestly can't fathom how you've impacted peoples lives, directly and indirectly, and even just the world itself. you don't have to be anybody but who you are, i promise, the whole point is just having the human experience you're having. you're fulfilling your purpose by existing, no matter how hard it is at times. i think it's a good sign that you reached out to me, i honestly think it shows that you have a lot of self awareness regarding what's going on and that you're truly capable of asking for the help that you need. you're not in a place right now where you can trust your thoughts and feelings, so it's good to seek an objective perspective from somebody else. this state of mind is so transient, it's so intense that it's not built to last. i'm not trying to downplay how unbelievably hard to live with, of course, but it can be freeing to acknowledge that this is not all there is, no matter how difficult it is to endure currently. you deserve to be here and to exist in a way that heals you, no matter what your mind is telling you. there can be a variety of underlying causes for suicidal feelings, and obviously they're very serious issues that need real medical attention in order to begin to overcome. but with that and with time, it is totally possible to learn to live a full live along side all you've been through. even though right now i'm sure that's the lastthhing on earth you want to do.

are you currently working with a mental health professional of any sort? your doctor, a therapist, a support group, even a hotline? if not, i would really urge you to get in touch with them as soon as possible. and if you already are, let them know where your thoughts are at lately so they can focus on upping your level of care. if you're worried about money, there are cost-effective choics available, like finding a therapist who offers a sliding scale price, or looking into mental health resources within your community. i know your brain is probably screaming at you to do the opposite, but i promise any baby step in the right direction is going to pay off. the prospect of reaching out and being honest is a daunting one, and i'm only bringing it up as something to consider at the moment (or when you feel able to) so please don't write it off all together. you don't have to do anything right now, just know you have options. you honestly do. and talking to someone really is not as bad as your brain is probably building it up to be. just like with physical illness, mental illness can be confronted and treated. it's all about learning how to manage your unique mind, and even if it takes a lifetime, it is so possible to lessen the frequency of episodes like this. or to become more prepared for them so they feel less erratic when they do occur. discussing about what you've been through, pinpointing root causes of your suicidal thoughts, learnng how to implement healthy coping mechanisms into your daily routine, building a support system, finding the medication for you if needed - all of this is going to make a tangible difference. it is not going to fix everything, obviously, but it is going to lighten the weight and broaden your perspective on yourself and on living. you deserve to be supported without judgement and with genuine care, you deserve to be listened to. there are a lot of people, professionals or otherwise, even just strangers like me, who are willing to filling that role for you.

idk how it is for you and i won't pretend to, but sometimes suicidal people don't want to lose their lives, they just want to stop living the way they are. with so much chaos and unresolved pain and exhaustion. you don't have to hurt yourself in order to get there. i know when you're in this mindset, any even slightly positive piece of advice just feels impossible to believe. but even if you can't seriously take it on board at the moment, i hope when you're in a more grounded place, you can at least consider as an alternative to absolute hopelessness. you may as well, because you are alive and that is not always going to feel like a curse. it is so hard to believe it, i get that, but it is a fundamental truth. you are in an extremely difficult moment but that is not your whole existence. the future is ever changing, and you've already made it through the past, so the only thing that really matters is this moment. focus on what you need, not what you want, but what you need to do right now to truly self - prioritize. even if that feels like the last thing on earth you want do. if self destruction and self harm was gonna make you feel better, it would've by now. welcome the idea of trying something new, maybe just the notion of attempting to guide yourself through this with a bit of self-compassion. please, if you feel like you are an immediate danger to yourself, please exercise any sense of self preservation/ survival instinct and call the authorities, a hotline or a friend/family member right away. no matter what bullshit your brain is telling you, no matter how heavy your heart is right now . everything is always always always changing and things are going to change beyond recognition, it's the one thing you can count on. you deserve to stick around to see it all, and once you've made the decision to do so, you won't feel so stuck and conflicted anymore. i'm going to leave some links that i think might help a little in this moment, but like i said, please call someone if you feel you can't be alone right now. i'm rooting for u a lot and i really hope you are able do the right thing for yourself. if it's all too hard, focus on getting through the next hour. if that's too much, the next minute. and if that's too much, the next second. break it down into what you can handle and let yourself live. and then just go from there. sending you all my love.

list of hotlines

coping with depression

coping with suicidal thoughts

so you feel like shit?

template for creating a safety plan

[electricbluebutterflies]

Chris/Melissa + bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

Writing dialogue for two socially inept cats is FUN. Pre-s6-grayspace, pre-relationship, PG-ish, and also on ao3.

Another day, another minor crisis happening in her kitchen. This has been routine for years, since back when everything that happened was definitely human and Melissa didn’t realize how lucky and naïve she was, and so far nothing that’s happened here has been world-ending. The true weird-shit parade happens at work or in unconnected places, not at home, and she’d like to keep it that way.

Today’s disaster, such as it counts, is a beautiful man who managed to cut his hand while poking around in her garage.

They’ve been bonding lately, which is to say it’s been a quiet winter and Melissa knows how strange that is. She’s an average-sized woman if a little skinnier than she probably should be, and her self-defense knowledge consists of exactly one class she went to ten years ago because that felt like something she should do the same week she filed divorce papers. But that only covered human threats; nowadays that’s the least of her worries, and she’s pulled reinforcements. From what little she could piece together, a few passing encounters mixed with some vague questions she asked the kids as delicately as possible because she knows they’ll put two and two together and get twenty-three if she gives them any accidental bait, this seemed like a good idea at the time. Chris is human, knowledgeable, reasonably reliable, and deeply loyal. And more importantly for her purposes, he’s apparently bored enough to spend a weekday afternoon trying to help creature-proof her house.

Or at least that was the intent, and then something happened that may or may not have involved a hockey stick of totally unknown origin, and now Melissa is debating whether a few DIY stitches may be necessary.

“I’m fine,” he says in that way men do when they are absolutely not but god forbid they show anything too close to weakness in front of anyone else at all ever.

If this were anyone else, anyone she wasn’t on quite so many eggshells with right now, she’d call him out on his bullshit. He did not sound fine thirty seconds ago when she wiped his hand with a washcloth soaked in vodka because the house is out of rubbing alcohol so the clear drinking kind had to do. At least the vodka is unscented, she’d been half tempted to grab the tequila instead but no she’s going to drink some of that after this and…

“Just hold still,” she mutters, taking one more good look at the wound. Whether or not it objectively needs stitches is unclear, so she’s taking that as a no for now. She can just cover it and hope he doesn’t do anything stupid and…

Right. Telling this particular man not to do anything stupid. That’s going to work out.

Melissa has spent far too much of her life voluntarily dealing with a series of difficult men, but passive-aggressive suicidal tendencies are a new one for her. If she thought Chris was any intentional danger to himself this would be a different problem, but no, version she’s pieced together is he’s just reckless and convinced he’s got nothing to lose. And has lost everything, she reminds herself as she starts wrapping the bandage around his hand. That checklist of tragedy would push anyone towards self-destructive behavior, and she’s almost impressed how relatively functional he is.

The kids all collectively trust him, and she’s amazed they all agree on her most days so she’ll take that endorsement. From the look of him, too close and appropriately motionless as she makes sure the bandage overlaps the right way, he probably doesn’t sleep enough but she’s not seeing anything that worries her. His people skills are… existent? Not much for small talk today, but neither is she so she’s not complaining. Capable enough with household tasks, and she appreciates that, and-

Her hand stops. The bandage is perfectly wrapped, and she does not want to let go.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and god that low voice is doing things to her and she can’t and she doesn’t and-

“Yeah. I… we can finish some other time, it’s not…”

“Or I can look at what else you have out there without touching anything else.” He almost laughs, and someday she wants to see him comfortable because that’s probably a beautiful sight. “You mentioned a reliable baseball bat?”

“That’s upstairs, I’ll… I’ll go get it.” Not letting anyone up in her bedroom, not until she has to, she knows there’s some plan to turn her bathroom into a panic room but not now not-

“Or some other time.”

“You don’t have to-“

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You volunteered to creature-proof my house!” Which is by far the most effort a man has ever put up for her and this one is probably just playing nice because he realizes the power in being the first and only male authority figure her son actually trusts, she’d like to point out, but-

“And I’m still going to,” he says like that’s at all calming. “Just without putting my hands in dark corners.”

“I don’t know why we have a hockey stick,” Melissa mutters.

“I’m not sure that was the hockey stick. Felt more like rusted metal shelving unit.”

“You’ve had a tetanus shot since I’ve known you, right?”

Chris gives her a look that feels like the polite way of saying he’s not a total idiot and yes he’s taken adequate precautions for his lifestyle. “You should get rid of that thing.”

“I’m pretty sure my ex nailed it to the floor. Good luck with that.”

“I’ve had the misfortune of meeting your ex. I doubt he’s that talented.”

She laughs, because yes it isn’t that funny but it has been a while since anyone’s been so on-point about that mistake. “You underestimate expensive power tools.”

“Same ones still in the garage?”

“Yep.”

“Not that expensive. And neither was that shelf. It’ll move.”

“No pressure, you don’t have to-“

“Least I can do before it collapses on someone.”

Yeah and knowing their mutual luck it’ll collapse on him during that project, but who the hell is she to say no to a cooperative man. “Whenever’s good for you?”

“Once my hand heals. Now, I think you mentioned there’s an attic?”

“Yeah, and we’ve never been up there.”

“First time for everything?”

She backs away and misses the light touch already. God, she could want him too much if she let herself. “Follow me.”

Whatever the limits of his patience are, she thinks as she leads him upstairs and hopes he can reach the dangly thing that opens the attic stairs because she sure as hell can’t, she’s going to enjoy finding them.

[iamkidfish]

Would you be at all interested in writing a prompt based off a quote? I've been reading On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous and got destroyed by the line "sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined". I feel like it's a line that works for both Leah and Fatin, and I would love to read your interpretation of it!

have a little angst this morning

Read on ao3!

It shouldn’t be a big deal. 50 days on the island. 50 days of fighting for their lives against the elements, against each other, against themselves. 

It shouldn’t be a big deal, except it is. 

50 days pass for eight girls barely surviving on an island when there should be nine.

There’s a choked sob, like someone is trying to muffle the sound, and then another and Leah wakes to the sound of Fatin crying. It surprises her more than it should, Fatin crying. She hasn’t seen Fatin cry, not at school, not on the first day, not when Fatin held Leah in her arms on the beach, not even after Nora pulled Rachel’s unconscious body from the ocean, her bloodied arm looking like it got sent through a wood chipper.

She turns over, trying to look for Fatin’s body by the shine of the moonlight. As the weeks went by, they all started sleeping closer and closer together, kind of like a group of seals on a dock, so it’s impossible to discern Fatin from the others. Shelby’s blonde hair catches Leah’s eye and she focuses in, noticing how Shelby’s left hand is gently curled around the inside of Toni’s elbow. Leah smiles, in spite of herself.

Past Shelby, Martha and Dot are curled together, with Dot lying on her back, mouth open, and Martha tucked into her side. Near them, Nora and Rachel are wrapped up so tightly Leah can’t really determine who’s body is who’s. They’ve slept like that ever since the accident and every time Leah looks at Rachel her eyes can’t help but slide down her arm to what’s left of her wrist. It’s mostly a mangled stump, but considering the limited supplies, it looks at least stable. Rachel’s been highly medicated most everyday and every few hours Dot pours their quickly depleting supply of vodka on it. 

A noise behind her makes Leah turn around. She maneuvers around their campsite, the best she can in the dark, stepping over water bottles, pieces of driftwood, even Martha’s suitcase, before she reaches Fatin. 

She’s curled tightly, more like a ball than the fetal position, and away from Leah so she can’t see her face. It’s not particularly cold out, but Fatin’s shaking. 

Leah drops to her knees, hands hovering over Fatin’s side, unsure if she can touch, then switches direction to lie behind Fatin. She tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, the ones that have been there since around day 29, as they try to flutter awake. For a second, Leah pauses before wrapping her arms around Fatin. The other girl doesn’t protest at the contact, but she also doesn’t acknowledge or lean into it, just continues shivering.

It’s hard but she tries not to notice how well their bodies fit together. They’ve slept close together before (Fatin actually has been insistent about Leah sleeping near her ever since “Leah’s second Virginia Woolf moment” as Rachel dubbed it accordingly), but never this close, with her front pressed up against Fatin’s back. They’re basically spooning. 

As if she heard Leah’s thoughts, Fatin mumbles, “I’m the little spoon. God, how embarrassing.”

She lets out a pained laugh and Leah freezes. She wasn’t expecting for Fatin to react, let directly acknowledge what’s happening. 

“Don’t tell me you haven’t spooned someone before, Rilke,” Fatin’s voice cracks but still manages to have her signature teasing lilt. 

“Of course I have,” Leah says into Fatin’s shoulder, her face heating up against her will. Thank God, Fatin isn’t looking at her.

“Well then you know you have to commit,” Fatin says, moving Leah’s arm so it’s curled against Fatin’s stomach. Leah counts to 100 by 7’s twice to resist the urge of flexing her fingers against Fatin’s skin. Not the time.

Her brain blurts out the first thing she thinks of, “Ironic, how you’re talking to me about commitment.”

(Smooth Leah, real smooth)

Fatin doesn’t respond to her stupid ass comment, doesn’t talk for a long time. She is not crying as much, at least not that Leah can hear, the tears could still be falling down her face silently, she reminds herself.

“You know, my dad didn’t let me say goodbye to my brothers,” Fatin finally says. “At the airport. Didn’t even let them come, they had to stay home with my mom. He said they had ‘too much homework’ which was bullshit. School was almost over by the end of May. I knew he just didn’t want me to see them and now…”

Fatin takes a shuddering breath and dissolves into fresh sobs.

“It’s been fifty days and...and I don’t know if I’m ever going to see them again,” she hiccups. 

“Fatin you don’t…” but the reassurance dies in Leah’s throat. After fifty days, dying on the island seems like a very real possibility, as real of a possibility when Leah was losing her mind over the realization and tried to run into the ocean a month ago, maybe even more so now, with their collective fear growing each day about how purposeful everything feels, how a group of (seemingly) random strangers arbitrarily came to be stuck on an island, depending on each other. The day they saw the plane fly over doesn’t even register in Leah’s mind as significant anymore, just another circumstance on her list proving that something is fucking wrong. 

It hits her, Leah’s bad at this. Being there for someone, let alone comforting them. It feels alien to her, as much as her cell phone or Ian, a thousand miles away, desperately insignificant to her, to what’s on this island. Honestly, she can’t remember the last time she’s touched someone like this before the island, especially someone she cares about. Leah was never a particularly touchy kid but after him, when she started to flinch at her mother’s touch or shunned away from her father’s hugs, her tolerance for physical contact plummeted, pretty much becoming nonexistent. 

The feeling rises from her chest into her throat like bile and Leah becomes acutely aware of how her body is positioned, how she’s holding Fatin, just like how he held her: from behind, chin tucked into shoulder, arms snaking around her waist. She always found it comforting but now, in the haze of the memory, she wonders if he did that to keep her in place, to hold her down. Leah stiffens, she can’t help it, as the pressing, suffocating feeling settles again over her body.

But Fatin isn’t him, and neither is she. Leah knows that, knows it in the way Fatin’s hair smells like pears and sand and salt, knows it in the spaces that she's hesitant and timid, Fatin is unselfishly bold, knows it by the way Fatin’s fingers never rest, even now tapping out a slow melody on her arm, knows it because Fatin’s been there for her since the plane crash (well, close enough), holding her and crying with her, and a tiny, persistent voice in the back of Leah’s head whispers loving— 

Still, Leah gently extracts her hands from around Fatin’s waist and tugs on her shoulders until Fatin is turning over to face her.

“You will. We will get back home, we have to.”

Maybe it’s the darkness that makes her bold, but Leah leans forward, just enough, to brush her lips against Fatin’s forehead. She tries to ignore the hitch in her chest or the memory of Fatin doing the same to her after she ran into the ocean, thinking Leah was still knocked out from the pills instead of just dozing.

“You probably just got sand in your mouth, dummy,” the weight of the insult is weakened by the way Fatin’s voice breaks.

“I don’t care,” and Leah doesn’t. She has more important things to think/worry about than a few grains of sand, like keeping everyone she knows alive, keeping herself mostly sane, and not screwing up and saying something incredibly stupid in front of this girl she’s holding in her arms.

Fatin sucks in a breath and maybe, just maybe, thanks to the light from the full moon above them, Leah sees Fatin’s lips quiver. It takes her a second to look back up at Fatin and the other girl is already looking at her, the air thick with tension, thick with an unspoken something. 

Leah’s nose tickles as Fatin nudges it ever so slightly with her own. It feels like an invitation and maybe in another life without deserted islands and broken girls Leah would understand and kiss Fatin until they’re both breathless, but she looks at Fatin again, still with tears on her face, and wonders if Fatin expects it because that’s all she’s ever known: people using her body for their own motivations. And it’s not that Leah doesn’t want to kiss her, because God, she does, but she wants to do it right, and wants it to last this time. 

She leans in because she can’t completely resist the hedonistic (self-destructive) pull in her stomach, the curiosity of how Fatin’s skin feels against her lips, and presses her lips into the corner of Fatin’s cheek, just close enough to her mouth to say I want this too, but not now. Leah knows she’s lingering, but the mix of perfume and salt is almost addictive and it just feels so fucking good to touch someone, knowing Fatin won’t break. (Is it because they’re both broken already, who knows?)

Leah pulls back and Fatin’s looking at her with more tears streaking silently down her cheeks, but Leah’s pretty sure she understands. 

She wipes a tear from the side of Fatin’s eye and maybe, she thinks for a moment Fatin is going to make a comment about messing up her mascara, but then thinks better of it, because this moment, where they’re both staring into each others eyes under the moonlight on an empty beach feels too heavy for any words.

Instead, Fatin just tucks her face into the crook in Leah’s collarbone and shudders and shakes with silently sobs, but Leah holds her, all through the night, even when she’s too exhausted to open her eyes anymore, and falls asleep too. 

Thankfully, when Dot finds them in the morning still curled into each other, she waits until they walk back to camp with the others before nodding and passing a water bottle to Fatin. 

[aphroditeslesbian]

please fucking help me. my sister (15 female) just came out as “trans” to my entire family including me at dinner. she’s a lesbian and obviously mentally ill, she’s extremely depressed and has a history of self harm/ suicidal intentions and all that shit. i saw this coming, but i’m shocked at how my entire family jumped to support her and now calls her a male name and refers to her as a male. I don’t know what to do, i explained my beliefs to them regarding transgender people, transition and how dangerous it is and how life ruining hormones and grs are but they refused to listen to me, called me transphobic and even went as far as to guilt me for “abandoning my family” because i refuse to play along. how the fuck do i make them and her reconsider this before she fucks up her entire life and body? they’re making me go to “family therapy” to talk this out but i’m scared the therapist will just reaffirm her beliefs.

I am going through the exact same. It is disheartening, terrifying, fucking mind numbing at times. Sometimes all I can do is sit in my room and cry for my sister. For fear of the life she'll have, for fear of what she'll do to herself.

The advice I was given is to play along, to try and get close to her, try to make sure she feels like she can trust me (which she can), make sure she knows I love her and prioritize her.

It's hard. I've learned to either completely avoid these subjects or argue about them, and it's hard to turn on the faking mask, to pretend this is fine, that I agree with it. I have such a gut reaction to just cringe away, it's hard.

But the idea behind trying to be accepting is that it's easier to do an inside job on this. If your sister feels seen, heard, understood, with time she may be more open to your worries. Honestly I don't see myself going along with a name change or a pronoun change even, but I think I can play that off as "what's in a name, names shouldn't be gendered" blabla.

I know and you know you are coming from a place of love and fear for her integrity. But all she knows is what the internet tells her about terfs. She won't understand, because she won't listen to you past the initial gender criticism.

So coming at it from a liberal pov might help. Try to make her understand that you care about what she cares about. Tell her about how you think gender roles are bullshit, about how you agree that everyone should be able to dress and act the way they feel is right. Make her see you have a common goal: freedom from gender shackles.

Try to use her language (liberal language) to explain your point of view. If you, like myself, have ever struggled with dysphoria, tell her about that too. Commiserate on how suffocating femininity is.

And then when she knows she can trust you, express your fears again. Tell her about detransitioning rates, about how surgeries have been proven not to alleviate gender dysphoria, tell her that she isn't alone, that she has you, that what she's going through is common and normal.

If she won't listen, at least tell her about how she can be "a man" without going through hormones and surgery. Remind her if she feels like a man, then why should she reject her own body? She can be whoever she wants to be in this body. Tell her her body isn't a commodity, it is her.

Make her feel loved, not judged. I think that's our only shot at getting through to them.

About the therapists... My sister's psychiatrist was actually very sober about this whole situation, and actually mentioned detransitioning rates for teens, and suicide rates for trans individuals as reasons not to pursue medical transition rn. I think not all is lost, but idk how it is over there versus over here.

Honestly this is a super raw subject for me, and I personally feel completely lost and isolated in this experience. I wish you and your sister the best, I really hope time will heal this and she won't go down this self destructive path. Take care. Reach out again if you want, I'd love to commiserate about this privately.

[inkweaver22-blr]

Welcome to chapter 14!

This one has been a long time coming, and I’m not just talking about how long it took me to write.

Fair warning: we see the return of why this fic is marked with an explicit violence tag.

Hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Fourteen: Monkey Sees, Monkey Silenced

Tang is the Monkie Kid! Or should that be the Monkey Kid?

----------

Tang wondered why it had taken so long for a cycle like this one to happen. He tightened his grip on the Ruyi Jingu Bang as he solemnly watched the city shrink into the distance.

He and MK were swapped in this cycle. Tang was a young 24 year old delivery boy who lived above Pigsy’s Noodles and had a thirst for knowledge. MK, or Mr. Xiaotian, as Tang referred to him, was a 41 year old art professor at the local university who liked to tell Tang stories about the Monkey King.

That meant Tang was Wukong’s successor in this timeline. Or at least, he would be once he met the Monkey King at Flower Fruit Mountain. They were all currently on Sandy’s ship, sailing for the Flaming Mountains that surrounded the island paradise.

Tang took a breath as he felt the magic of the staff flow through him. He had noticed the transfer of the Monkey King’s powers into him the moment he had picked it up. It was very different to any other magics or powers he had in the past.

It was a raw, wild, and pure strength that dwarfed any of his previous skills in terms of power. Tang could feel it swirling inside him. The numerous different abilities all seemed to flow into each other and filled him to almost bursting with great destructive potential. He would have to learn how to properly control them to avoid causing too much collateral damage.

MK had managed to do so countless times before, and Tang himself had many experiences with learning new powers over the cycles. How hard could it be?

Tang turned his attention to the ring of volcanoes they were approaching. He wasn’t sure how closely he would have to stick to the original timeline, but decided not to push his luck with the more important events. That meant he would have to lose the staff when confronted by Princess Iron Fan.

That shouldn’t be too difficult. He may have trained with a long pole-type weapon, but it had been a long time since he had been able to practice. Not to mention how one wielded a staff was much different from how you would wield a guandao. Tang would have no problem losing this fight.

Now he only hoped he would be blasted in the right direction to land on Flower Fruit Mountain instead of into a pool of lava.

----------

Luckily for Tang, he was indeed launched in the proper direction. Landing on the beach would have hurt a lot more had it not been for his new power of invulnerability.

Tang watched as the waterfall curtain parted at his touch, making sure to appear suitably impressed. That wasn’t too hard considering he had always needed either Wukong or MK to open it for him in the past.

He entered the cave and looked around, calling out for the Monkey King. Tang approached the mural at the back of the cave, and felt magic flow into his eyes unbidden. The world around him turned into shining shades of gold as his True Sight activated.

Tang watched in awe as the figures on the mural seemed to come to life and began reenacting moments from the famous journey. He may have memories of actually living these events, but seeing them now was still something special.

In front of him was Wukong becoming Tripitaka’s disciple. Over there was Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing fighting with some demons. Off in the corner was MK, Mei, Pigsy, Sandy, and Wukong standing over his unconscious body. Then there was Macaque, the gold and silver twins, and Spider Queen. Bai Long Ma trotted past with Tripitaka on his back.

Wait, what?

Tang whirled back around to the forms of his family and himself.

No, he had not imagined it. Laying on the ground was the sleeping form of his normal 41 year old self. Projections of the five people he considered his closest family were standing nearby. Sandy and Pigsy seemed to be having a conversation, Wukong was lounging on his tail, and Mei and MK, who was in his normal young form, were looking around the cave.

MK’s and Tang’s eyes met.

The young man seemed to explode into motion as he grabbed the attention of the others and began excitedly pointing at the scholar. The five began waving frantically at him, and Tang, at a complete loss as to what was happening, gave a halfhearted wave back.

Their reaction to that was much more extreme.

MK and Mei were jumping in place as they hugged in joy. Sandy was grinning as he waved both arms even harder. Wukong performed a back flip before pumping his fist in the air. Pigsy looked like he was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down his face.

Tang was absolutely baffled.

Wary of some kind of trick, he looked around the cave once more. With his True Sight active, he saw no signs of anything that could potentially be a trap. He did spot one of the projections of Wukong smirk at him before turning to run out of the cave, however.

Squinting in suspicion at the still celebrating group, Tang decided he would deal with it later. Letting the magic fade from his eyes, he chased after the Monkey King. He did his best to push the strange encounter out of his mind so he could focus on the task at hand.

----------

Fighting Demon Bull King using the full strength of the Monkey King’s power had been quite the rush. Tang felt a little bad about all the extra damage he had caused, but most of it had already been dealt by DBK so he supposed it was worth it to take him down.

Sighing in exhaustion, Tang prepared for bed. As he moved around his small apartment, his eyes caught the glow of the street lamps reflecting off his window, making it shine gold.

Oh right. Those projections of his family from earlier.

With a groan, Tang decided sleep would have to wait. He took a seat in his desk chair and took a deep breath. It took a bit of focus, but he was able to push magic into his eyes and activate his True Sight.

The world turned gold and the group appeared to his left near the kitchenette. Tang swiveled his chair around and watched as they noticed him studying them and began to wave excitedly once more. It looked like they were all saying something, yet no sound emanated from them.

Well that complicated a few things. Getting answers from them would be a lot harder without them being able to properly answer.

“You know I can’t hear anything you’re saying, right?”

The group froze at that, before quickly turning to each other and discussing amongst themselves.

“To be honest, I’m not sure if I trust what I’m seeing,” Tang said, catching their attention once more. “You all certainly look like my family, and Wukong’s True Sight can’t be fooled. But I’ve been through quite a bit of cosmic bullshit to know to be wary of what appears to be people I care about standing over what looks like my unresponsive body.”

The group glanced down at said body and began to shuffle around in awkward embarrassment.

“So here’s what we’re going to do.” Tang pointed at the projection of MK. “You, MK, are going to do your best to act out what’s going on. The rest of you,” he turned to the others, “are not to offer any help or instruction in any way, understand?”

They all reluctantly nodded, looking confused.

“Good. Begin whenever you’re ready.”

Tang watched as the young man did his best to act something out. As the performance continued, Tang felt the suspicion slowly ease and a smile grew on his face.

“Well I know for certain now,” he said once MK had finished. “No matter the timeline, you will always be terrible at charades, MK. No one could ever pretend to do that poorly.”

MK exploded with indignity as the others laughed at him. He crossed his arms in a huff and only turned back to the group once Wukong ruffled his hair playfully.

Tang smiled again as he watched the interaction. Being a good actor came with the ability to tell when others were acting as well. The reactions he was seeing were much too genuine to be faked.

“Okay, I believe you aren’t here for any malicious purposes. But now that I know I can trust you all, how can we go about figuring this out?” Tang drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “I could ask you yes or no questions, but without the right ones we could go in circles for hours. Writing out the alphabet and pointing to each letter until we spell out a word would take just as long.”

Tang stood and tried to approach the group. As he did, their projections moved with him, staying a set distance away and phasing through the wall out into the open air. He moved back and turned in place. The group did not move with him this time, remaining in the spot they had appeared.

“Well so much for seeing if we could physically interact,” he said once he sat back down in his chair.

His family seemed just as stumped as he was. They all were talking back and forth before Wukong suddenly jumped up, waving for attention.

“You have an idea, Wukong?”

The monkey nodded before sitting in a meditative pose. After remaining still for a few moments, he took his hands and placed them on his chest. He pulled them away and cupped them before him and began to inspect them closely. It took a couple repetitions before Tang understood what he was trying to say.

“You want me to manifest my soul?”

Wukong nodded as Mei said something to MK, causing him to pout.

“Don’t tease MK, Mei,” Tang said as he got into his own meditative position. “There’s nothing wrong with not being able to act out complex ideas.”

The group all just stared at him in surprise.

“I may not be able to read bad acting, but body language is easy enough to understand,” he said as he began to focus. “Now give me a moment.”

Manifesting his soul while keeping the True Sight active was a bit tricky. He had learned this ability back during the cycle with the copy of Tripitaka sealed into a statue, but never had to use it at the same time as another power. It took him longer than usual, but he was eventually able to bring his soul forward.

It looked the same as it always did. Many strands of light loosely wrapped into the vague shape of a sphere and plenty of empty space in the center. The strand that pointed off into infinity was leading out the window above Tang’s bed. It had taken him a few cycles to realize it always pointed to the West.

“Okay, so what am I looking-” Tang trailed off when he spotted something new.

A second strand was leading off from his soul. It pointed in the exact opposite direction of the first, heading East. It ended at one of the little knots that represented the larger pieces of his soul.

It was positioned directly above the form of his unconscious body.

The others seemed to be able to see the strands as Wukong pointed at the knot floating above his body and began to mouth out a word.

“Start?”

Wukong nodded and pointed towards the strand leading out the window and said another word.

“End.”

Grinning enthusiastically, he finally pointed at the soul in Tang’s hands and said one last word.

“Now.”

Tang’s breath caught.

He knew the strand leading into the West was connected to all the remaining pieces of his soul and would eventually have an end once he reached the last one. He knew his soul looked the way it did to represent how much of it he had managed to gather currently.

That left the start.

Several pieces began to fall into place.

“You’re- You’re the voices I hear calling out my name at the start of each cycle.” Tang absently returned his soul and he stood and stared at the smiling group.

They nodded in affirmation.

Tang’s breath became shallow.

“Are you- Are you from my original timeline?”

The group burst into joyous celebration, nodding and giving each other high fives.

Tang sat back onto his chair in shock.

His family, his first family, were standing only a few feet away.

He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

A sharp pain flashed behind his eyes before he could do either, and he grasped his head as it began to throb.

“Gah!”

He glanced up to see the group now watching him with concern. Wukong was gesturing at his own eyes, closing them slowly in exaggeration. Despite the pain, Tang was able to understand the message.

“Turn off the True Sight?”

Wukong nodded.

“But- ack!” The pain grew sharper. “But I have so many questions!”

Pigsy glared sternly at him and pointed to his bed. Sandy gave a comforting smile and pointed at the ground they were standing on.

Go to sleep and we’ll be here when you come back.

“Fine. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Wukong shook his head sadly and held up three figures.

“Three days?!” Tang gasped as the pain continued to build. “Shit! Okay, fine. Three days.” Tang gave them all one last look over. “I’ll see you then.”

They all gave him a thumbs up and Tang released his hold on the True Sight. He sighed in relief as the pain lessened slightly. His apartment looked much darker without the golden light filling everything.

Tang made his way into bed, physically and emotionally tired. He hated that he would have to wait for his answers. None of this made any sense.

His head throbbed painfully as he tried to think about what had just happened. Resigning himself to not being able to come to any sort of conclusion on his own, he settled down to sleep.

At least he had three days to come up with the proper questions he would need to ask. Hopefully the rest of the cycle would continue as normal so he could get some answers.

----------

The Wukong from his own time had been right when he had told him to wait three days before activating the True Sight again. The massive headache Tang had from overusing it lasted the entire time. It had distracted him during the incident with the weather station on the second day, making him quickly lose control of his abilities.

The seal this timeline’s Wukong had placed on his powers so he could control them helped a bit. The sharp pounding had only receded to a dull throb, but Tang found it to be a drastic improvement. He was able to take down Red Son and rescue his family fairly quickly afterwards.

It was currently the evening of the third day and Tang was making his way back to Pigsy’s Noodles after making his final delivery for the night. He drummed the steering wheel impatiently as he waited in traffic. His headache was completely gone so he could finally get some answers tonight once he was alone in his apartment.

The nerves and excitement eventually got to him and Tang began to take shortcuts down less used side streets to get back quicker. A few blocks away from the shop, he turned down one final alley that was shrouded in darkness, not thinking much of it.

He really should have expected being forcibly pulled from the vehicle and slammed up against the wall.

Before Tang could react, something was slapped against his chest and he felt the access to his powers cut off entirely while his body became paralyzed.

“So this is the Golden Boy’s so-called successor,” said a familiar voice. “Can’t say I’m too impressed.”

Tang’s blood ran cold as he stared up into the sneering face of the Six Eared Macaque. He did his best to struggle but whatever the shadow demon had done had left him completely immobilized.

“Don’t know why he would pick a weak little human like you. Your kind has such terrible senses. You didn’t even notice my presence until it was too late.” Macaque eyed Tang up and down, frowning in disapproval.

“He could have at least found another monkey like us. Would have been way more thematic.” Macaque smirked as he held up a small purple gem with a spiked point. “Luckily I have a way to fix that.”

Sweat rolled down the side of Tang’s face as he watched in fear while Macaque positioned the spiked end of the gem against the base of his throat.

“You can thank me for this later,” Macaque said with a manic and sinister grin.

Macaque stabbed the gem into his neck.

The paralyzing effect holding Tang in place broke and he convulsed on the ground as purple electricity raced across his body.

The last thing he was aware of was the sound of Macaque’s laughter mixing with his own screams before he mercifully blacked out.

----------

Tang slowly regained consciousness.

He didn’t have the dream about the cave so that meant it was still the same cycle. Whatever Macaque had done hadn’t killed him this time.

Although Tang wasn’t sure if the full body ache and fire in his throat was a better outcome.

He was in a bed he realized, and there were faint voices he could just pick up.

Not having the energy to move, he did his best to focus on what was being said.

“-managed to remove the second seal blocking his powers, but left the one that allows him to control them,” said a voice Tang didn’t recognize.

“What about the choker? Were you able to remove it?” Tang recognized Wukong’s worried tone right away.

“That is one nasty piece of jewelry,” said the first voice with a sigh. Tang assumed it was a healer of some kind. “One of its effects is that should anyone other than the one who put it on the victim remove it, the victim would immediately die.”

There were several sharp intakes of breath.

“That’s only one of the effects?” Mr. Xiaotian was here as well it seemed. Were they all waiting for him? “What all does this thing do?”

“There’s only three curses I detected,” said the healer. “You’ve seen the physical changes of the first, and know the dangers of the second. The third is perhaps the most cruel however.

“Your young friend is no longer capable of physically communicating complex thoughts or ideas.”

What?

“What does that mean?!” Pigsy sounded angry, but Tang could notice the undercurrent of fear. “Are you saying he’s lost his intelligence?”

“Not at all. His thoughts will just be trapped in his own mind and he will be unable to share them.”

Tang felt fear begin to gnaw at him.

The healer sighed once more, this time sounding saddened.

“It is truly an insidious curse.

“He’s been rendered completely mute, so he can’t talk. If he were to attempt using sign language, he would temporarily lose the coordination of his hands and fingers. Anything he will try to write or type out would end up as incomprehensible gibberish.

“The best he would be able to do is point at things and shake his head yes or no.”

Tang was suddenly cold.

That was…

No.

No no no no!

He couldn’t lose his ability to communicate! Not this cycle!

He finally had a lead to how this had all started! He needed to be able to ask his family from the original timeline questions!

Who knew when he would ever have access to Wukong’s True Sight again? If it ever happened at all?

Tang struggled to open his eyes, hissing in pain as the light filled his vision. He raised his arm to block it out, only to pause at what he saw.

Hadn’t the healer said there had been a curse that caused physical changes?

Bright golden-yellow fur covered his arm, and his hand had been replaced with a paw.

Ignoring his protesting body, Tang sat up and looked around. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, but it appeared he didn’t need them any more.

He wasn’t in a hospital. The room was set up in a traditional style with the typical furniture one would find in a guest room.

Tang found what he was looking for when he spotted the full length mirror on the opposite side of the dresser.

He climbed out of the bed and made his way over, doing his best to move past the pain.

Tang stepped in front of the mirror.

A monkey with golden-yellow fur, cream colored face and chest, and silver face markings that resembled an open book stared back.

Around the monkey’s neck was a black metal choker, the flat side of the purple gem at its center.

“He could have at least found another monkey like us. Luckily I have a way to fix that.”

Ah. So that’s what Macaque had meant.

Tang pressed his trembling fingers against the glass.

He really shouldn’t be so surprised. It had happened to MK so many times that he should have expected it to happen to him as well.

So why did he feel so numb?

Tang opened his mouth to try and say something, to try and prove the healer wrong. To convince himself this wasn’t actually happening.

But the only sound that came out was a raspy breath.

“Hey, bud?” Wukong poked his head through the door, frowning at Tang in worry when he saw him standing at the mirror. “You… You really shouldn’t be out of bed, kid.”

Tang nodded blankly, shuffling back over to the bed and sitting down. Wukong closed the door behind him and made his way over to sit beside him.

“I bet you have a bunch of questions,” Wukong said.

Tang shook his head.

“No?”

Tang pointed at the door and then to his ears.

“You heard us talking?”

Tang nodded.

“Oh.” Wukong shuffled nervously. “Are… Are you okay?”

Tang took a shuddering breath. He turned to his mentor with tears in his eyes and shook his head.

“Oh, bud.” Wukong quickly scooped the younger monkey into his arms as he began to sob silently. “I’m so, so sorry. I should have been keeping a better eye on you. I should have been there to interfere and prevent this from happening. This is all my fault.”

Tang cried into the Monkey King’s chest.

He cried for the pain he felt at the hands of someone he considered a part of his family.

He cried at being forced into a different form unwillingly.

He cried for the loss of his ability to communicate

He cried for losing what may be his only chance to talk to his family from the original timeline.

He cried at the unfairness of the cycles and the universe in general.

Tang cried.

Yet he barely made a sound.

----------

“Hey, bud!”

Tang looked up from his meditation at the approaching Monkey King.

It was a few weeks later. Wukong had practically forced him to move to Flower Fruit Mountain in order to keep a better eye on him.

Tang didn’t mind. Without his ability to communicate, he couldn’t do his job at Pigsy’s Noodles anyway. Pigsy had let him keep the apartment, just in case he wanted to spend the night in the city.

Tang smiled up at Wukong as he stood. It was nice to be the one with multiple father figures for a change.

“So I think I may have a way around the communication curse,” Wukong announced brightly.

Tang’s eyes widened as he tilted his head in curiosity. It hadn’t taken him long to learn how to convey how he felt through body language alone.

“The curse only prevents you from communicating physically, right?”

Tang nodded.

“Well there’s a power I have that lets me speak to someone from a distance. I, uh, actually kind of forgot about it because my astral projections have a longer range so I don’t use it much.”

Tang snickered silently as Wukong rubbed his head in embarrassment.

“Anyway! How would you like to learn telepathy?”

Tang blinked as he processed that. Telepathy certainly wasn’t a normal power the Monkey King usually had.

It also wasn’t a physical form of communication. You instead projected your thoughts psychically to those around you.

Tang pumped his fists in the air and performed a back flip in excitement. Being a monkey had certainly made him much more nimble.

“I thought you’d feel that way,” Wukong said with a laugh. “Want to get started now?”

Tang immediately sat down and stared eagerly at his teacher.

“I’ll take that as a yes!”

----------

Telepathy had been hard to master.

The first weeks of the process had Tang randomly projecting his subconscious thoughts to anyone nearby. There had been some awkward moments when he accidentally projected things from previous cycles, but he was able to wave it off as daydreams.

It had taken some work, but Tang could now pick out a single person within a few hundred miles and send them a specific message. It was a tiring process, so he didn’t actually use it often, but he could do it.

He could communicate again!

Tang stood alone in the apartment above Pigsy’s Noodles and activated his True Sight.

He had done this a few times after the attack, just to be sure that his family would still be there.

Like the previous times, the group of five and his body appeared to the East of him. They all waved in greeting and Tang waved back.

Tang took a breath and looked MK directly in the eye.

‘Can you hear me?’

MK’s smile didn’t change as he eagerly watched on.

‘Hello? MK? Mei? Anyone?’

None of them reacted.

No.

‘Hello? Please! Can any of you hear me?!’

The groups’ smiles began to fade as Tang became visibly upset, his fists clenched and shoulders trembling.

No!

This wasn’t fair!

He had worked so hard!

Tang fell to his knees as tears poured down his face.

This had been his last hope. His last shot at trying to get any answers.

It hadn’t worked.

Frantic waving from the group caught his attention.

The five of them had knelt down to be closer to his eye level. They were all smiling gently, their expressions kind and forgiving.

MK placed his hands together, forming a heart. The others soon followed suit. Even Wukong.

It’s okay. We still love you.

Tang choked as his tears fell harder. He shakily put his hands together and formed his own heart.

I love you too.

Tang decided this was the only answer he needed.

----------

Bet none of you saw that coming!

I’m going to enjoy seeing you all try to come up with an explanation for what’s going on. :3c

Monkey Tang’s design is something I came up with myself. I’ll see if I can draw it out for a better reference.

Look out everyone! The plot is here and it won’t be stopping any time soon!

Until next time!

[doubleshotofsomething]

Come Into My Life

This is my entry for @nekoannie-chan​‘s 500 followers’ writing competition. This is a Thor fanfiction series inspired on the song “Entra en mi Vida”. I had a blast writing it and I loved the song even more.

Song Prompt: ”Entra en mi vida” by Sin Bandera

Warnings: none??

Author’s note: Okay, all seriousness guys, what the fuck? So, you guys just...let me call Ghost “Shadow” and didn’t bother to correct me? really guys? really?? Is this where we are now? woooow, there’s no autocorrect here.

Summary: You and Thor just can’t seem to be on the same page, about anything.

----

“You seem to think this is something you can hide from.”

----

Part Two: Después de cinco minutos, ya eras alguien especial  

Mjölnir kept disappearing. But that could have been Steve's fault. Or Vision. So, that's understandable.

Then Stormbreaker kept disappearing as well. There was no Vision. And Steve had long given up his avenging days.

Both weapons came back, they always did. But Stormbreaker seemed to be adamant in taking its sweet time. Which, under any circumstances, wouldn't be a problem. Except, Thor is still an Avenger. He still has work - work that required his weapon - to do.

You were in the kitchen with Sam, arguing - like you always did - about something when Thor walked in, looking for that damned axe.

You had met a handful of times, but you tended to avoid the group as much as you could. Sam, Shadow and Hope were as far as you were willing to go, Thor had realised, and socialising with you didn't seem all too appealing to him.

Thor wasn't focusing on either of you, eyes too busy dancing around the room as he tied his hair back. The quinjet was set to leave in fifteen minutes and all that was missing from his battle attire was that cursed thing.

"This is exactly why I don't like coming here-" your complaining broke through his cloud of thought and his eyes went to you. "--seriously, Sam, you are the worst host ever. What am I supposed to do with you gone?"

Sam rolled his eyes, rolling his shoulders back a bit before attaching his wings. "Talk to people. Your favourite cyborg is staying behind, so you two can talk about those babies you wanted to give him."

You scoffed and reached over the counter for the sugar dispenser. "The love of my life is currently sulkin--"

Before you could grab the sugar, your fingers instinctively wrapped around a wooden staff. Sam, too focused on making sure he had everything he needed, missed the complete look of annoyance on your face and shock on Thor's face.

There, in your hand, was Stormbreaker. His Stormbreaker. And, instead of being confused, you sighed and tossed it aside before grabbing the sugar as you had intended to. As if nothing had happened.

"Damn thing needs a leash," you mumbled to yourself, stirring the sugar into the originally-Sam's-but-now-yours tea.

Asgard was no stranger to prophecies. And Thor had heard enough of them growing up to tell which was a farce. But this...

No...

It couldn't be...

Surely, it was a temporary glitch. It had to be.

Because a dying star couldn't have forged a King's weapon, only so an idiot could easily wield it.

It's not that Thor thought you were stupid or not worthy. It's just that he thought you were an idiot and a complete nutcase.

You put a target on your back and refused any security that Fury had to offer. You're still convinced that your Uber driver won't do you any harm. And you sleep with your bedroom window unlocked.

You were an idiot.

A complete and utter idiot.

So, why did he instantly seek out your scent whenever he breathed?

Why does the thought of you, anywhere near him, suddenly make it hard to think about anything else?

And, for the love of all that is good, why won't you look at him? Actually look at him. Not those glances and polite eye contact you share with everyone else.

There are so many prophecies, too many that weren't true and too little that were. Thor could always tell which were a farce and which weren't.

But now, he was the idiot that couldn't understand why his axe was more responsive to you, than him.

-----

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Is Fury's response to the Captain's questions.

The Avenger's Compound had been turned into the current base of operations for both the new SHIELD and the Avengers. With the exception that the Captain was the one overlooking everything, alongside Fury.

Hope didn't waste time shoving you into her car -- as always -- and dragging you to the compound with everyone else. And then, because that's never enough, they shoved you into the meeting room with everyone else, while Captain went to bring Fury.

Sighing, you lean against your chair and turn to look at Thor. The Asgardian had been sitting on the couch when you were shoved onto it, watching the whole scene unfold while he munched away on a bowl of cereal.

You eyed his outfit and frowned. "Why is it that every time I see you, you're always trying out a new look?"

He blinked at you, mid-chew with a trail of milk going from the corner of his lip into his beard.

"First, it was the whole medieval knight thing, then the carpenter look, then the whole lumberjack thing. And now--" you waved at his sweatpants, fingerless gloves and what look to be a sweater. "--you're... what is this? And why does it look so comfortable?"

"Really? You expect us to believe that SHIELD is being funded by all that money?" Sam fired back at Fury. "With all that new equipment that keeps rolling in? Do we look stupid to you, Fury?"

Fury raised an eyebrow. "You want me to answer that?"

"I will!" You jumped in, raising your hand as you tuned in. "Yes, you do look stupid. In fact, you're the reason I know what stupid looks like. And I got in an Uber without checking if it was my driver or not, this morning."

"You did what?!" Thor barked.

You rolled your eyes and waved off the man that's decided to be a pain in your ass. "Calm down, security update. I can take care of mys--

"Calm down?!" Thor tossed the bowl across the room to properly glare at you. "You are so adamant on putting your life at risk every damn chance you get! You are, arguably, the most hated person on every ex-Hydra agent's list. And you--"

You don't bother to sit through the rest of that lecture. You avoid going to the compound for that exact reason. In fact, you avoid Thor for that exact reason. The first time you met the Asgardian, he spent most of the introductions helping Fury tell you all about how you were going to live your life now -- and all the safety measures you'd have to take.

As if you hadn't been raised by one of the world's greatest sleeper agent.

"This guy, am I right?" You scoffed as you got up, consequently getting him to get up. "Who died and made him Jarvis?"

"I am speaking to you!" He is front of you, towering over you, blue eyes swimming with rage, as he glared at you.

"Carpet damn, Asgardian. Carpet damn."

Ghost, from the other side of the room, cut in. "It's Carpe diem, shithead."

"I'm freestyling, thank you very much." You shot back.

"Can we get back to the matter at hand?" Captain Flightless called out. "Thor. Please, calm down. Take a seat."

"I will not calm down nor take a seat," he glares down Mr Red, White and Break-your-brand-new-car. "Her safety is just as important as the matter. What do you think will happen if the wrong people get their hands on her? SHIELD signing a deal with her company will be the least of your worries!"

You turned at Ghost. "Is it too late to bring back Thanos? I just wanna see something..."

"You know--" Sam flicked your ear. "--if he comes back, you're gonna get dusted too, right?"

"Exactly. That way, I get to see him beat the shit out of an entitled thunder-summoning, cape-wearing, overbearing, self-proclaimed mighty asshole!" You glared at Thor, then turned back to Sam. "And then, finally see what y'all were doing as dust particles."

"Thor does have a point--" Fury cuts in, crossing his arms.

"Doesn't that leather trench coat get hot?" You point at it, because you were sure as hell not having this conversation again.

"Pierce may have been Hydra, but even he knew how messed up things would be if you were in the wrong hands--"

"You say that like I can shoot lightning bolts out of a gavel."

"It was a hammer." Thor grits out.

Fury ignores you both. "--things aren't as they used to be. The threats aren't only Thanos, Loki, or any other alien tyrant."

"That's mean. Thor isn't an alien." You feign a point.

"We need to consider the threats here, on Earth, as well." Thor ignores your jab. "Like, I've always been saying. The scale of destruction and terror that criminals could cause if they got a hold of just a small percentage of Hydra tech. Just look at what Ultron had accomplished--"

You stare blankly at the tower of a man in front of you. "You mean the computer upgrade that Tony created? With a weapon that is no longer on Earth, in this timeline? With Hydra tech from a Hydra lab, on that floating, vibranium powered island that you destroyed?"

"The point is--"

"I have lived in hiding my entire life," you narrow your eyes at the ignorant would-be-king. "Security protocols, safe houses, different identities, around-the-clock security, all of that bullshit that you're suggesting I know nothing about-- yeah, that was all I knew about. I know where every entrance and exit of every room I walk into is. I plan for an escape, before I even step foot out of my place.

"I did not come here so you can tell me how to continue living the lifestyle that I was raised to live--" You're glaring and baring your teeth and ready to rip him a new one. "--My keepers are dead. You will sooner change the nature of a cat, before you turn your little pride of vigilantes into my security detail."

He doesn't say anything. He can't. He knows better than to argue with you when you're like this; angry and on the verge of lashing out.

So, he just stares back at the idiot that won't stop haunting his every thought. The idiot that can wield a weapon he nearly died for. The idiot that won't understand why he bickers when it comes to her safety.

Sam sighs as he crashes on the couch. "At that's the tea."

Tags: @nekoannie-chan​, @thorfanficwriter​

[dahniwitchoflight]

Homesquared Chapter 16

Alrighty, that was a fun tangent, now back to John it seems?

Oh, no, Narration of John (So Actually Dirk, speak of the devil and he shall appear and all that etc etc)

“ leaving John with one final touch on the shoulder. John leans into it in response, though he’s a bit ashamed of chasing down a sliver of physical affection so soon after obliterating Karkat’s evening like he had. “

pfft lol so Im not the only one that thought it would be funny if that scene was interpreted in a Pale Romantic light, even though that really wasn’t what was happening

OIh! but we still get Roxy, just the other version of Roxy

Roxy subtly being like “hey!! shit has apparently gone down, were not exactly close atm but I feel bad about you dying to want to know if youre still alive so im gonna message you while trying to make it look like i dont care about it as much as I do”

JOHN: trying to align my memories of my youth with whatever is happening right now so

and the wonderful question is, what IS going be happening with you now John?

Roxy looking nice and casual, but also yeah narration, why are you making this ominous, its not like Roxy’s out here to double spy on behalf of Jane, I don’t think Roxys on her side THAT much

ROXY: may have to do a smidge more if my old bff decides im next on the list for bombing out

ROXY: but so far so good

ROXY: just a coupla exploded cars in the yard from some shenanigans our dear son and his friends were in but u kno it is what it is!!!

Roxy once again being a master of hiding how shes feeling, even when trying to open up, feeling pretty stressed about whats happening with Jane, understandable, the exclamation points give it away lol

The narration is really trying to make John nervous though

OH lol that was the implication haha no lol John it obviously wasn’t that

“John feels his shoulders unbunch. Of course. Yeah. He’s almost embarrassed by how relieved he feels. So what if his ex wife wanted to hook up? Shouldn’t that be a situation he could navigate? Don’t people like to find solace in human physical connection during dire times? Why did the idea of it make his mind white out in panic more than, say, any number of the traumas he just experienced? He doesn’t know, but he believes Roxy that he must look pretty haggard. He probably feels haggard? Maybe sitting down will feel better.“

lol once again, Dirk has no idea how to read Roxy at all and just trips over himself and his assumptions XD

Yeah, looks like Roxy not on the Jane train and is doing some takesies backsies, shes glossing over her feelings on the matter still though, I know thats par for the course of how Roxy tends to handle stuff too but I wish shed open up a bit more, but maybe shes playing the smart game, yknow, knowing that Dirk has a hard time reading her, so glossing over stuff is how you protect yourself against the narrative force, confusion and vaguery in the narrative and her actions only helps her to keep control over it, because at any point, you can decide to “clear up” any narrative “miscommunication” or “confusion” and lay down what is it thats actually happening with you any time you want

Void working in the behind the scenes to do what they want

JOHN: like it’s my HOUSE.

JOHN: but mostly it always felt like my dad’s house?

JOHN: and when i started living there after i moved out of here, it was like i crammed myself back into whatever was left of my kid self?

JOHN: and it didn’t feel good, but it at least was familiar, you know?

JOHN: like living there let me feel closer to my dad, trying to be like the way i remember him, or like how i remember him wanting me to be, or something?

JOHN: and i didn’t realize how much i hated doing that until i saw it all go up in flames.

JOHN: so i guess i could have used my powers to stop the fire and save whatever was left of the place, but i couldn’t bring myself to do it.

JOHN: like some fucked up part of me was glad i got there too late?

JOHN: so i just sat there, watching, trying to figure out why watching my house burn down felt like i was being released from prison.

JOHN: and even now i keep trying to explain it away, as though it’s because of how fucked up everything else is that it made me feel good.

JOHN: but that’s just bullshit.

JOHN: it DID feel good.

JOHN: i DO feel free.

JOHN: sorry.

ROXY: no need 2 apologize

ROXY: we just delved in2 my whole gender thing last time so it seems fine for u to have a turn

JOHN: i didn’t say it was a gender thing.

Im pretty sure you’re talking about a gender thing John, like, very 100% sure now this is what’s happening

because if you were actually a girl, of course you’re dad leaving all these notes about how one day hes gonna be so proud of the man youll become, yeah, that can feel a little pressuring, even if your dad didnt mean it like that, since he was unfailingly the kind of dad just bumbling around trying to understand their kid as best they could and leave encouragements everywhere, thats what his intent was, but all his notes come off a bit wrong in particular issues

remember the note under the fridge that was all like “SON. IF YOURE READING THIS NOTE, YOUVE FINALLY BECOME STRONG ENOUGH OF A MAN TO PICK UP THE FRIDGE.” not exactly that but that was always the vibe Dad’s little notes always had

Yeah, i can see how John would view it as a bit off, but if he hadnt the self awareness to realize it was a gender thing at the time, hed be understandly confused as to why such a thing would bother him

now though, he’s realizing, maybe, he doesn’t exactly want to be the man his dad always encouraged him to be

John does seem a lot happier here in his convo with Roxy than he did on his own when the house was burning, that conversation with karkat left me wondering if John was about to start dissociating he was so down, but here he says he feels freeing and happy about it?

ROXY: but like now that u mention it

ROXY: *meaningful pause*

JOHN: …

JOHN: i

JOHN:

John’s beginning to question stuff, or acknowledge that he’s questioning stuff, cuz it’s true, and hes feeling happy about it, in a way that he wasnt before, but he hasnt quite connected the dots here between the happy feeling and what exactly he has to be happy about

ROXY: aight then no wind bending just use your mangrit

Roxy flexes, the corner of her mouth pulled up into a familiar grin. John feels his guts, so recently calmed, twist up into knots again. Her eyebrows shoot up and the smile loosens. He must have shown something on his face.

ROXY: ok or just like push when i push

ROXY: we both got sick muscles

ROXY: no other adjectives necessary

JOHN: yeah ok.

Yeah Roxy’s 100% picked up on it, and maybe Dirk has as well if the narration is commenting on it

Alrighty then, to the secret lair under the bed!

oh I just noticed how kind of cute and interesting Roxy’s nickname for Harry is, “Lil H A” Harry Anderson shortens to Ha like laughter haha

and if Harry had Roxy’s last name, it’d be Harry Anderson Lalonde

Lil HAL

lol what is Callie doing under Roxy’s secret bedchamber XD

This whole secret bedchamber thing is turning into one big metaphor isn’t it?

That thing behind the curtain kind of looks like the Attic Portal shape from Hiveswap though

that’d be neat if that was it, like obviously we knew one of the cherubs had to have something to do with that portal just going by the design of it alone

Honestly it makes sense that Callie is doing it under the curtain of Roxy’s Void, it’s honestly the safest place to do something like that

lol Calliope has grown past writing fanfic about shipping and being in love, now the drama of broken relationships and divorce is all the rage XD character growth? haha

CALLIOPE: besides, hUman divorces are even more fascinating than i had ever imagined, and being able to witness yoUrs in motion was an honoUr.

CALLIOPE: so i consider Us aboUt even at this point.

Calliope just burned him harder than his childhood home’s destruction

CALLIOPE: ah right, right. yoU're probably a little cUrioUs as to where the dickens we are.

have you been talking to Jake lol (I mean, probably Original Grandpa Jake tbh if that portal is actually the portal)

Alright so John is getting caught up on the major plot points, Earth C is indeed in the large black hole, his choice didn’t matter since both choices happened anyway yadda yadda

CALLIOPE: think of it like a coin flip.

CALLIOPE: the series of events that led to Us being trapped beyond the event horizon of an Ubermassive black hole could be considered "tails", while the events which would have occUrred otherwise could be considered "heads".

CALLIOPE: since both were possible, and paradox space is the way it is, they actUally both happened. and we jUst "happened" (hee hee) to get tails instead of heads.

yup yup yup pretty par for the course of timesplits in homestuck so far

CALLIOPE: not at all! since both possibilities depend on one another's existence, it really doesn't make sense to call them "right" or "wrong". they both just "are".

yup, this is true, the ending’s of both referenced the others, so it’s disingenuous to say one is “canon” while the other isn’t

one is simply in the realm of actual possibility, the other is in the realm of unlikely possibility

More than likely, John would have chosen to leave and go die and be the hero like in Meat, but there was still the possibility that he would stay, even if it was unlikelier than the other, but since both were possible choices for him to realistically make, both actually happened for real

CALLIOPE: anyway, the reason i went on this tangent in the first place was to explain that the space we are standing in right now has a special significance, in that it is the location which corresponds to the black hole's singUlarity

that’s interesting, so there’s the original meteor that crashed into the surface of Earth C, and it’s in here that the singularity of what I don’t wanna call the Green Hole to match the Green Sun when I wanna talk about this specific Black Hole lolol

but yeah, here in this meteor lies the crux of the paradox it seems, interesting, also interesting again, this is where that Hiveswap Portal is

Hiveswap does have a plot point of “Joey must do thing in 11 days otherwise Earth and Alternia will be destroyed” and the only known destruction event of Earth and Alternia so far in canon is the Green Sun’s Creation from the destruction of both universes (and then later Callie’s destruction of the green sun into the black hole) so is Hiveswap gonna be a factor in the green sun’s destruction/creation as well? (Joey has the symbol of the Green Sun for a reason, I’m super curious as to what factor Joey has in relation to the Green Sun’s Existence, We still don’t know what the fact those black monsters are too, they’re like nega-first guardians, the kind of things that look like would come out of a Black Hole that came from the Green Sun tbh)

It’s all inter-related I tells ya

ROXY: ur not gonna enter a weird time vortex and change the trajectory of a little girls life with the power of love

JOHN: aw.

You say that now but

CALLIOPE: it's not strictly speaking "bad" for Us to be inside of a black hole, mUch thoUgh that contradicts most of what anyone knows about them.

CALLIOPE: of coUrse, if we had fallen into it, that woUld be a whole other kettle of fish.

CALLIOPE: the tidal forces woUld have stretched Us all into spaghetti and then ripped us apart!

CALLIOPE: bUt the natUre of oUr arrival was more akin to simply "being" here, sUddenly. one moment we were not, and the next moment we were, and somehow always had been.

yeah that’s basically how this multiverse’s reality works, the future is a thing that already physically exists, just in a different location in the universe somewhere else

time travel and spacial teleportation could be said to be the same thing all along

that’s why violating the events of the future has actual consequences, because its like asking to go somewhere that doesn’t exist but how has to exist because it’s the future, too much of that and reality starts cracking at the seams to make room

same thing happens with sessions and playing sburb

the planets and dreaming moons and all that simultaneously have always existed here, and started existing only because the player played the game and the planets were generated upon entering a session, but to the player involved, it looks and feels like you are just being teleported to a different location in the universe, because you also kind of are

CALLIOPE: i mean, the natUre of space and time is a little finicky in here, bUt for the most part it doesn't seem to be anything too oUt of the ordinary.

CALLIOPE: bUt beyond that, it means that we are sealed away from the rest of existence.

CALLIOPE: oUr sphere of inflUence is limited to the sphere of the black hole's bounding horizon.

CALLIOPE: as far as everyone else is concerned, we might as well not even exist!

So you’re just in a little seperated bubble, that’s not connect temporally to any other place of existence, you aren’t anywhere in the past or the future of anywhere else

nowhere leads here, and here can not lead outwards either, theoretically, and yes it exists, so it must also

JOHN: is there no way we could let anyone know that we're in here...?

CALLIOPE: almost certainly not!

CALLIOPE: there are very few ways for anything to escape the kind of predicament that we are in right now. one of them is to be an all-powerfUl being with control over the very fabric of space, with the energy of two Universes at yoUr disposal.

CALLIOPE: in which case, escape woUld become rather trivial, if a little Unscientific.

JOHN: ok. i am going to assume that we can't just do that.

CALLIOPE: yoU've hit the nail on the head, UnfortUnately. U_U

CALLIOPE: the method i described was the one employed by my alternate self, who yoU may recall crashed through the event horizon in the body that once belonged to jade harley.

CALLIOPE: she departed through a pUnctUre she created in the black hole's surface shortly after consUming my brother, a deed which provided her with the necessary "oomph", and which was frankly rather breathtaking to watch. =u=

CALLIOPE: bUt Upon her departUre, the rift closed for good. as far as i can see, there's simply no way for Us to commUnicate with the world oUtside the black hole.

CALLIOPE: i woUld certainly be very sUrprised to find oUt that anyone had managed sUch a thing!

So someone else definitely has managed to do such a thing

JOHN: knowing that we're inside of a black hole... does that actually change anything?

JOHN: like, can't we just go on living like normal?

CALLIOPE: oh absolUtely not.

CALLIOPE: i don't know if yoU've noticed john bUt this world is on the brink of a total cataclysm.

JOHN: oh.

CALLIOPE: oUr exclUsion from the overarching coUrse of events which governs all reality means that oUr existence here is liable to dramatic and violent Upheaval.

CALLIOPE: to pUt it another way, becaUse nothing in here "matters", we are likely to be sUbjected to things which are a bit bats in the belfry, for no reason other than it's totally insignificant to the wider canon of reality.

CALLIOPE: and mUch thoUgh i am personally titillated by some of the conseqUences of this predicament, it is a degrading way for Us to live. u_u

JOHN: that's... certainly one way to put it, yeah...

yeah, so because here in the black hole neither affects the past or the future of anywhere else, being so disconnected, they are technically free of the reigns of the Alpha Timeline that exists elsewhere in the multiverse

the Alpha Timeline now being understood to simply mean, The Narrative

Things are the way they are because they are thus written to be so

CALLIOPE: at first, i believed that this was simply necessary. Us playing tails to oUr coUnterparts' heads, the black to their white, and so forth.

CALLIOPE: bUt over the years i have come to the conclUsion that this is simply not kosher.

ROXY: its total bs is what it is

CALLIOPE: right, yes.

CALLIOPE: a steaming pile of bUllshite.

CALLIOPE: and so we have decided that something needs to be done aboUt it.

Hmmm. It’s a dangerous idea to be playing with for sure, to decide all the black pieces in the game of chess suddenly become white, it is a very flip turning of reality upside down to be sure

To be honest, I’d think you’d need a powerful Doom player at your disposal to even try something like this

or actually, a powerful Doom user would be most likely to shut this entire thing down, knowing how bad of an idea it’d be, maybe it’s more you need a powerful Life player to do something like this instead

is that also why Dirk viewed Jane as an ally then? She would technically have the kind of power to upend the black and white doomy laws of reality if driven to her full potential, i mean obviously yes, we know this already because of the candy colored I-can-do-whatever-I-want-with-no-consequences lollipop

Is this what Calliope hopes to achieve with the Hiveswap Portal then? her goals for Joey and friends are to be the ones to prevent their universe’s twin destructions, and thus the Green Sun’s initial existence and then also the destruction into the Black Hole after the fact? that would be one way to prevent the Black Hole from existing, making it so the thing that creates the black hole never exists either

and that's certainly a canon event that would be difficult to tear asunder without major consequences

That would be a “Re-writing Homestuck from the very beginning” level of canon event

And if I’m correct, Joey is theorized by me to be a Mage of Life, if any classpect at their full potential was gonna do something like that, or have the impossible knowledge to something impossibly paradoxical like that, well..

ROXY: but u dont need to worry abt busting us outta space jail tbh

ROXY: thats not ur problem to fix

JOHN: oh.

JOHN: i'm... not sure i follow, then.

ROXY: i mean yeah ur gonna obvs facilitate it in a sense

ROXY: but only by going and busting the person who can actually help us outta normal earth jail

CALLIOPE: we need yoU to free vriska from the clUtches of oUr misgUided friend jane, and bring her here, to the singUlarity.

ROXY: weve been calling it the plot point

CALLIOPE: yes, the plot point is a key part of oUr plan.

CALLIOPE: as far as we have been able to sUrmise, the only remaining method for escaping oUr grim confinement depends on leveraging the UniqUe properties of this location to create an event of sUch catalcysmic proportions that it simply cannot be contained within the black hole any more.

CALLIOPE: something SO dramatic, so hyper-relevant, that it becomes ontologically impossible for anyone to ignore it.

CALLIOPE: for that, we need an individUal of sUfficient narrative cloUt, so to speak.

CALLIOPE: and to liberate her, who better than the embodiment of the aspect of freedom itself?

I mean yeah! makes sense! Johns major factor here is Freedom, Vriska’s is Importance

and yeah, I can think of no other wholly dramatic event that to mess with stuff with the Green Sun, everyone will have eyes on that, they have to, their whole existence the way it is relies on it

But, they could also mean something else, its only condition is that it has to be something so imflappably impossible, something so not-canon and so outrageous that it basically horse-shoes around to the other end of the canon spectrum to being something that truly exists again

and that could be literally anything and it’s nerve wracking and exciting to see what thing theyre gonna come up with to just directly kneecap Homestuck itself

ROXY: thx babe

ROXY: oh is it 2 soon for that joke or

JOHN: no, weirdly enough, that one’s fine.

(yeah that’s because Babe can be construed as feminine June)

so, I’m basically convinced they’re doing June Egbert now

that to me was like, pretty severely on the nose

John: Hey Roxy, what it does mean when you find a sense of freedom when all of the symbolism of the masculinity surrounding your childhood burns down around you

Roxy: idk It’s probably a gender thing man

John: I didn’t say the word gender-

Roxy: It’s ok babe no pressure, we can hash it out later

John: Hmm, later then. :)

Roxy: (Turns and looks towards the camera with a knowing smile)

shit all that imagery makes me think of Roxy as that picture of the small kid smirking at the camera while a house burns in the distance XD

[mimikyusimagines]

Do you have any headcanons on the psychic type specialists? Namely if they have powers and if so, what kind?

Yes actually, I do. I love talking about stuff like this.

We've seen a little of what Sabrina is capable of. Levitation, telekinesis and precognition. She likes to flaunt her powers (mostly as a form of self defense) but as a whole, she's fairly standard. She's no psychic master like some people claim she is, but she's certainly not one to provoke. A general rule of thumb is "never get on a psychic's bad side" and Sabrina is a good example of this.

With them being so close to one another in distance, people often debate whether Sabrina or Will is a stronger psychic. While Will may be the stronger Pokémon trainer, he and Sabrina are pretty toe-to-toe when it comes to psychic abilities, he just prefers mind games like telepathy unlike Sabrina who focuses more on the destructive aspects of her powers. Will is the master of one thing in particular, and that's - like I said, telepathy. He can pick through your brain like it's nothing and you would be none the wiser. Sure, he can make objects float or teleport a short distance, but that's never really been something he was too interested in.

You ever hear the old myth that twins can read each other's thoughts? Well, in Tate and Liza's case, that's true. But that's it. Tate and Liza have a... Let's call it an empathy link. No matter how far away from each other they are, they can always sense what the other is feeling and thinking. Liza falls and scrapes her knee? Tate feels it too. Tate gets startled by a Pokémon jumping out of a bush? Liza gets startled too. Needless to say this can be both a major blessing and a major curse.

Now, I know we all like to joke that Lucian is the odd one out. "Haha look at that loser, he doesn't even have psychic powers!" Good. That's what he wants you to think. To be blunt, Lucian makes the other's abilities look like child's play. He's a god compared to everyone else on this list. He purposely suppresses his powers so he doesn't hurt anyone. Let me paint a picture for you: Lucian can create a small pocket dimension with his mind and not even break a sweat. He can create portals to other worlds, freeze time and stop your heart from beating before you even see him in the room. He's dangerous.

Caitlin I'd say is a jack of all trades, master of none sort of case. Her powers are tied to her emotions, so she has to remain calm at all times so they don't spiral out of control, that's how sensetive they are. Caitlin's definitely a loose canon, and despite how hard she tries to keep her composure, she's not a naturally calm person, which means a lot of people end up getting hurt on accident. Caitlin is... Also kind of a sadist deep down. She feels almost nothing if she hurts a stranger, but if it's someone she cares about, she's torn up about it for weeks.

While Olympia is nowhere near Lucian in terms of power, she's the only one who even sort of comes close. Her levitation is more controlled than Sabrina's, her ability to control minds is even better than Will's, and that's saying something, and she can lift extremely heavy objects for long periods of time, unlike Avery who gets worn out fairly quickly. There's been times when Olympia has even caused earthquakes or lightning storms which as caused her to speculate whether or not she has weather based abilities as well, but that's not a high priority.

Faba has no psychic powers. He just thinks psychic types are cool. He's tried to insist on numerous occasions that he's developed psychic powers from spending time with his Pokémon, but that's utter bullshit and everyone knows it.

Bede wasn't a psychic type specialist for that long until he became the fairy type gym leader, but since the majority of his Pokémon are psychics and fairies, he's become pretty attuned to people's emotions. He legitimately thinks it's just really good intuition, but Opal has her theories.

Like Sabrina, we have a pretty good grasp on Avery's powers. Telekinesis... And that's it. He's tried so hard to develop his telepathic powers, or gain the ability to teleport, but to no avail. He even swallowed his pride at one point and went to Olympia for help, but after a week of extensive training, she told him that he most likely will never gain any other powers, which of course Avery did not like at all. He started trying to intensify his telekinesis out of spite and anger to prove he wasn't useless and, well... The results weren't pretty.